Blood & Butlers

by S. J. Frey

  When Darren walks out of sight, Amy gasps and grabs my arm, squeezing it gently. “Oh, my stars. Is he your boyfriend?” She gushes.

  I want to choke on air. Amy smiles and starts to laugh as I stare at her dumbfoundedly. There would be no way I would be with someone like Darren. He’s too stiff and proper. I have a theory that he was brainwashed at some point, perhaps during his childhood. The poor guy probably didn’t know how to have fun.

  Other shoppers are starting to stare at us as we continue to stand in the middle of the aisle. I quickly grab her arm and pull her towards a meat cooler. Once we are out of the way, I indulge Amy in all the details. The will, the manor, Reginald, and even Darren. Her eyes grew large, like big blue saucers. Her smile grew bigger and bigger with each passing word.

  “Oh, wow! To think you were a princess this whole time!” She laughs.

  I smile and start to chuckle, “I hardly doubt that.”

  “You seem to be in better spirits,” a male voice calls out.

  Darren startles me. I peer up at him as he held the grocery bags. I give a side glance to Amy and smile. “Yeah, I am now.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t you have your friend join us for dinner? I made sure to grab enough ingredients,” he offers, holding up a white plastic bag.

  I'm not sure if I like this idea. I’m still trying to get used to the manor, and I’m sure Amy would be overwhelmed.

  Before I have a chance to object to the idea, Amy already answers for me.

  “I would love to come for dinner."

  Darren gives a small nod of his head and turns to me, “Good. Let us return home so your friend can get settled in.”

  I'm in defeat and just follow behind them as we all left the store. When we arrive at the manor, Amy couldn’t hide her excitement as we walk through the threshold. She looks at all the paintings and points out a boar’s head by the staircase that I didn’t notice.

  Darren excuses himself to make dinner and leaves us in the foyer. We watch as he vanishes through a door to the left of the staircase, and when the door opens, I catch a glimpse of a table, but the door shut too fast to see anything else.

  Amy is silent for a moment and looks over at me with a mischievous grin, “I don’t like him, he’s too uptight,” she comments.

  I shrug my shoulder. “Darren's nice, but he’s a little strange.”

  An impulse takes over me as I turn to Amy. Maybe staying here instead of a hotel was the best option. I don't have to worry about bedbugs as I previously fretted. From what I can see, Darren did an excellent job keeping the place clean. And with Amy staying here, it will make me feel more at ease. “Why don’t you stay here with me? It will make being here a little more bearable. I could use a familiar presence while I figure things out.”

  Amy looks worried and touches my arm, “Are you going to sell the manor?” She asks.

  I dart my eyes away from her gaze. “I’m not sure yet. A lot happened in one day. I just packed up and sold one house, and now I must do it all over again. I just need time to process that first before I can take on another task like that.”

  Amy looks relieved and lets go of my arm. “Yeah, I would take some time. Who knows, maybe this place will grow on you. How about we get ready for dinner? I want to shower and change from my long drive,” she yawns and walks away towards the staircase.

  I follow her up the stairs and make a left as she makes a right. I get halfway to my room when I stop and realize that I never told her what room to go to. I turn around and watch her disappear into a room. Amy can be extremely picky and probably wants to explore different room options. If she didn’t like any of them, she would let me know

  I didn’t see Amy until dinner time, and dinner was anything but boring. We ate our food in the dining room. I didn’t have a chance to admire the long, dark table or the paintings as Amy took overall conversations, so there were no awkward pauses throughout the night. Darren joined us for a few minutes and smiled at the stories of our college shenanigans. However, I could tell he wasn’t genuinely interested. Hearing the same drunk tale, but at different locations, can only be interesting the first three times.

  When dinner is over, Amy and I go our separate ways as the day’s energy is completely drained from our bodies. The mattress is soft like a cloud and relaxes my muscles, but nothing can stop my racing mind. Every time I close my eyes, I keep thinking that I am back in a motel room and not in this fancy manor. This all had to be some sort of joke. How can someone be so respected by colleagues and claim that they care when they made no effort to keep communication with their family? Only to leave a manor behind for their kid?

  The events leading up to today have me so stressed that I see stars. I keep tossing and turning in my overly sized bed and can’t get comfortable. After lying down for a few more minutes, I decide that I need some fresh air. Maybe then my tired mind can relax.

  The old, wood floor creaks loudly under my feet, making me wince with every step I take. It is well after midnight, and I’m sure everyone is asleep. I would hate myself if I woke Reginald or Amy. Darren, on the other hand, he deserved it. How he slammed the door in my face before letting me speak and insisted that I stay in the manor. It might not have been against my will, but it was still irritating. Even though he made a fantastic dinner, I’m still angry with him.

  Luckily, I have Amy here with me, so staying in this monstrosity wouldn’t be horrible. She is more than eager to stay in the manor, which didn’t surprise me. She always talked about her wealthy family and the large home she grew up in. This manor probably reminds her of her home, and here I thought she might be overwhelmed.

  The floors are as cold as they are noisy. My toes feel like they will gain frostbite and fall off any second. I agree with myself that maybe going outside my warm room is a bad idea. Looking at the large stained-glass window in the hallway only proves how cold and rainy it is outside. The notion of going out for fresh air is now terminated, I have no intentions of getting sick.

  My stomach turns slightly, letting the gasses rumble throughout my core. It is growling with such vigor that I immediately forgot about my cold feet. “Maybe a snack and then right back to bed,” I whisper to myself.

  I try hard to ignore the creepy stares from the large paintings of children with halos and wings watching my every move. Whatever they are, they're scary looking in the dark. When I start selling things from the manor, those paintings are the first to go. These hallways are barely lit by the single lightbulbs that are scattered along the wall. This manor has many old antiques that it could be a museum. Everything here has to be about a hundred years old or at least looks that way. It didn’t matter. As soon as I get things in order, I’m selling this bleak reminder of my father. There is no way I need a manor to myself. Hopefully, some celebrities will buy it, and that will be the end of it.

  It takes me a while to catch my barring’s and find the grand staircase that leads to the foyer. The large, oriental rug warms my feet the second I step on it as I try to figure out where the kitchen is. Darren was going through the layout so quick today that I didn’t have a chance to ask questions. Everywhere I look is dark and the only light I can see is the lightning flashing through the windows periodically.

  I am about to give up and go back to bed when the light from under the kitchen door grabs my attention. Curiosity got the best of me, and I slowly walk to the door. The closer I go to the door, the louder I can hear voices.

  Darren’s voice is a clear giveaway. He has this raspy accent that was from Ireland or Scotland. When I asked him early today where he was from, he didn’t answer me. He had a bad habit of ignoring questions about his personal life and anything else I asked about for that matter. It is starting to become annoying.

  The closer I get to the door, I can hear him arguing with someone. The other voice is from a female. I didn’t recognize her as she has a thick accent, as well. It sounds something similar to Darren’s but has a little twang to it. Australian perhaps?
>
  “This is not up for debate.”

  “We need her, Darren! If he takes over, we are all good as dead!”

  “She will be in danger.”

  “She will be in danger no matter what choice she makes,” the woman retorts.

  There’s a short silence, and Darren sighs.

  “You know I’m right, Darren,” she urges.

  There is more silence, and I can hear only soft murmurs as I lean my ear closer to the door. The floor creaks beneath me, and instantly I want to run back to bed.

  After a long, agonizing moment of silence, there are footsteps, and the door opens slowly. Darren is standing before me as the light from the kitchen floods around him, making him seem like some heavenly being. However, the annoying expression and a slight smile on his lips show me more of a devil. Does he get some sick thrill of catching me off guard?

  Clearing my throat, I stand up straight while fixing my NYCU shirt from bunching up in the front.

  “Can I help you with something, Miss?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

  My eyes dart over his shoulder to nonchalantly see who the female voice belongs to, but there is no one else in the kitchen.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “Sorry. I got hungry and was hoping to get some crackers or something.” I don’t know why I should be nervous about being caught; it wasn’t like I did something wrong.

  Darren smiles and holds the kitchen door open for me. I walk past him and into the blinding white light. When my eyes finally adjust to the lighting, I see that the kitchen is modern, unlike the rest of the manor. A stainless-steel fridge stands off to the right of the kitchen with a matching stove on the opposite side. Along the wall, there is a long black marble countertop to offset the pure white cabinets.

  A wooden island sits in the middle of the room with three chairs on either side. This kitchen looks like it could be used on one of those cooking shows.

  “Sit down, Elizabeth. I’ll make you a snack,” Darren says smoothly as he seems to glide around the kitchen, knowing exactly where everything is.

  I compel myself to sit down onto one of the wooden chairs as I watch him get to work. I'm too transfixed by what he is doing that I didn’t realize a sandwich, on a plate, is placed in front of me. I star at it intently for a moment and see it is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crust cut off. I think I’m more tired than I thought I was if I couldn't pay attention to him making a simple sandwich.

  Slowly I pick up a half and take a bite, letting the sweet, gooey peanut and jelly mixture slowly slide down my throat. Until it got stuck. I cough softly, trying to get it to move, but the lump doesn’t budge. Darren is quick to provide me with a small glass of milk, to which I am grateful.

  Quickly I take a gulp of the liquid, and instantly the peanut butter dislodges from my throat. I let out a huff now that I can breathe again.

  “Thanks,” I sheepishly smile.

  Darren grins. “You’re welcome.” Slowly he turns back to the sink and gets to work cleaning the dishes.

  As I pick up my sandwich again, I stare at his back, watching his shoulders move as he works. My gaze eventually turns to a door on the other side of the room that looks like it leads to the outside. I wonder if the woman he was talking to left through that door. Or maybe I am just hearing things?

  “So, who was that lady?” I question.

  Instantly he stops washing the dish he has in his hands, and his shoulders tense slightly.

  “What do you mean?” He asks, not turning around to my gaze.

  Oh. So now he wants to play dumb.

  “I heard you talking to a woman…” my voice trails off as I try to get him to confess.

  “You must be mistaken, Elizabeth. I was here by myself. Preparing a list for more grocery shopping tomorrow. You must be imagining things,” he says evenly, never once shifting around to look at me.

  I knew what I heard. Darren was definitely talking to a woman. I am sure of it. If he was, why would he hide it? Maybe it was his girlfriend? If it is, who were they talking about being in danger?

  I decide to leave the conversation alone for the time being. I don’t want to start any issues on my first night here.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I shrug.

  Finishing my sandwich, I sigh, “You know you don’t have to call me Elizabeth. Lizzy is just fine.” I hate being called Elizabeth, it makes me sound like an old lady.

  Darren shut off the water and grabs a towel to dry off his hands.

  “Well, ‘Elizabeth’ is your birth name; therefore, I shall call you as such. I’ll never understand the fascination with young girls to butcher their namesakes to something completely different,” he teases as he turns to look at me.

  Blinking, I finish my milk and take the plate to the sink. “Young girl? You’re not that much older than me, you know,” I challenge.

  Darren watches me from the corner of his eye as I gather up the sponge, he was just using so I can wash my dish. He is quiet for a long time before his face broke into a strained, crooked grin.

  “I guarantee I am much older than you are,” he states.

  I ignore him as I rinse off the dish and put it on the dish rack to dry.

  “You know, this is supposed to be my job,” he taunts as he grabs a towel to dry the dish I just washed.

  As he picks it up, I sigh, “My mom was always working, so I did the dishes as long as she did the laundry. I hate folding clothes. However, when she was working late, I had to do everything on my own anyway. I’m not used to having a butler wait on me hand and foot like this.”

  Darren nods. “I’m sorry about your mother. My mother died when I was a boy. My father tried to raise me, but one day he decided to leave, and I found myself all alone. Or, from what I was told. I was too young when it all happened, and I don’t remember much.”

  I look at him and see the teasing smile he had is now replaced with a look of pure sadness. The expression stays only for a moment because his eyes glance at mine, and a small smile erupts on his face.

  “Seems like we have something in common.” He adds. He is trying to joke, but I'm not buying it. For a split second there, I caught his moment of weakness, but I wouldn’t dare bring it back up.

  “Yeah, but at least you knew you had a father for a brief time. My father left us before I was born. The only thing I really know of him is that he was well-liked apparently, and he must have been rich because look at this place!” I say, waving my hands around my head at the vast kitchen ceilings.

  Darren silently agrees and slowly puts the towel down and places the dish back into the cabinet above his head. “Yes, but your father was a good man, Elizabeth. Always remember that.”

  I don’t know what it is, but the way he talks about his own father abandoning him makes me feel a little uneasy. Like, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about mine at all because now it’s awkwardly silent.

  I didn't get the chance to say anything else stupid as Darren breaks the silence by pointing to the clock on the wall.

  “I believe it’s time we go to bed. A young lady shouldn’t be up so late, it will cause wrinkles around your eyes if you don’t get enough sleep.”

  His mood swings on this emotion boat are starting to make me seasick. And who even says things like that anymore? He sounds like a little old lady, but his words held some truth. I am exhausted, and now that I had my snack, I am ready for bed. It was best if I left our conversation the way it is, I didn’t want to make it even weirder between us.

  “Good idea. I’m drained from moving boxes and traveling so much. I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” I smile.

  “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

  “Goodnight, Darren.”

  It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness in the foyer so I can make my way back to my room. As I close the door behind me, I yawn loudly and rub the heels of my hands into my eyes gently. There is too much to do and not enough time to complete everything. I fear I won't have ever
ything finished in time for me to return to the city.

  The manor is too big, and I only broke the tip of the iceberg going through my father’s study. There are still many rooms, and I just half hoped that they are empty. My body starts to ache with the desire to lay back down on the delicate mattress. It was probably made of goose feathers or something fancy like in the rest of the manor. Whatever the case, it's comfortable. My brain finally allows my eyes to close and wander into a more profound slumber.

  I still can’t shake the feeling that Darren is still hiding things from me. I know I’ve only been here a day, but there is something about Darren that bothers me, and I just can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I’m just tired and reading into everything too much. Mom used to poke fun of how much of a worrier I was, but I can’t ignore the rock that is currently in my stomach.