by Darci Balogh
There were no corners in the room. It was a complete circle. And it was huge.
The walls were the same grey stone as the floor, though slightly less polished. They reached up at least 15 feet to a domed ceiling. Heavy wooden beams curved out from the center point of the ceiling like spokes in a wheel. A chandelier hung from the center point. Though it was not turned on, its crystals glistened in the dim morning light.
Windows surrounded them on three quarters of the circular wall. Where there were no windows a cavernous fireplace made of white stone filled the space. On each side of the fireplace was a closed door.
A small fire burned cheerily in the hearth, though it could have housed a much larger one. The fire surprised her. It was June after all. But when she stood and walked across the rug she felt the damp air on her exposed skin and understood the fire was meant to take the edge off of the chill.
Still in her traveling clothes, a pair of black leggings and a long, grey shirt, Tawnyetta hugged herself and rubbed her arms to warm her blood. She stood in front of the fire feeling its warmth and listening to the gentle crackling. Her feet were freezing. That's when she spied two thick, white bathrobes hanging from iron hooks by one of the doors, and two pairs of luxurious slippers on the floor beneath them. She wrapped herself in a bathrobe and slipped her feet into the slippers then padded over to the windows.
The windows were thick glass. Handmade glass. Irregularities created optical illusions, like looking through the bottom of a bottle. The tops of the windows were arched and reminded her of the stained glass in a church. They stretched almost the full length of the 15-foot wall. Strips of hand-hewn iron held together smaller panes, which made up the whole window. Hinged on both sides, an iron latch kept them closed, yet they were large enough for her to open and step through into thin air.
Tawnyetta ran her hand along the windowsill. Smooth wood stained almost black. Outside the weather was still wet. She could see the build up of moisture on the glass and feel a draft of cool air even though the windows were closed. A mist shrouded much of the view, but they appeared to be about four stories high. The edge of a well-manicured lawn was visible on the ground below, hinting at more majestic gardens just out of sight.
She was in a castle. Not a mansion or a hotel, but an honest-to-goodness castle.
A thrill shimmered through her body. Not from the cold. She leaned forward until her nose was almost pressed against the thick glass and peered into the mist. If she looked hard enough, she wondered if she could conjure up a dragon flying toward them.
Tawnyetta chuckled and a girlish giddiness came over her. She hurried back to the bed to wake Bridget.
"Bridge, Bridge, wake up" she said, gently pushing Bridget's shoulder.
Bridget only groaned and turned away, mumbling something incoherent. Tawnyetta located her purse placed neatly on top of her suitcase next to a carved antique dresser. She rummaged through it and found her cell phone. The face blinked red at her, 4:42 a.m. Could that be right? Could she be this wide awake this early in the morning? How did jet lag work exactly? She felt her phone vibrate in her hand then turn off. Dead battery. She shrugged. She was awake now. No reason to fight it.
Leaving Bridget to her sleep, Tawnyetta wandered around the room and studied the elaborate artwork that hung on the walls. The furniture was all dark wood, stained to be almost black like the windowsills. Elegant porcelain vases and knick-knacks were placed neatly on the end tables and the dresser. A set of leather bound books filled a slender bookshelf near two large sitting chairs that were placed facing the windows. In front of the chairs was a small coffee table that held a silver tray, two champagne glasses, and a bottle of champagne partially submerged in what must have been ice and was now water. There was a little note handwritten on fine white stationary.
Congratulations on your nuptials!
- The Staff at Claymore Castle
Tawnyetta cringed. She checked that Bridget was still fast asleep, then she reached down and plucked the note up, tucking it into the pocket of her bathrobe. It was probably best to lessen the number of reminders Bridget would have of Christopher over this Not a Honeymoon. She should rip this note up and flush it down the toilet.
The bathroom was huge, almost the size of a normal sized bedroom. It had been modernized, thank goodness, and was dripping with luxury. Polished marble floors with sumptuous white bath rugs, a shower with three walls of glass and one wall of the ancient grey stone. The same arched floor to ceiling windows as the bedroom.
What caught her attention the most was the two-person claw foot tub set against the wall of windows. There was no worry of anyone outside catching a glimpse of the bath tub four stories in the air. Tawnyetta ran her hand along the edge of the tub and over the fixtures. If they weren't antique, they had been made to seem so. Next to the tub was a basket woven with off white reeds and full of soaps, bath bombs, and bath salts in a variety of scents. A long soak would help relieve her soreness and kill some time while she waited for Bridget to wake up.
Minutes later Tawnyetta sank into a steaming bath that fizzed around her travel worn muscles. She had chosen the white clay, lemon, and sea kelp bath bomb out of the basket and it was divine. From her position in the tub she watched as the sun grew stronger and began to burn off the mist outside. It appeared to her that perhaps the drizzling rain was coming to an end.
A knock sounded on the bathroom door.
Assuming it was Bridget, Tawnyetta called out, "Come in."
To her surprise, in walked a young woman wearing a classic maid outfit, black dress, white apron, hair in a bun.
"Good morning, ma'am. I see you've drawn your bath," the maid said.
Tawnyetta's surprise at the maid's presence was equal to her surprise at understanding the girl's accent. Her mind must have cleared after getting some sleep last night. She had automatically lifted her arms and crossed them over her chest when the girl entered. She nodded mutely in response to her comment.
"I'm Anne." The maid gave her a little curtsy. "I am to tend to both of you ladies during your stay. I'll keep the fire up. I've brought you a morning coffee. And if you need anything at all be sure to ring for me. I'm happy to draw your bath for you, whenever you please."
"Oh," Tawnyetta managed to answer. "I didn't realize."
"That's no problem at all, ma'am. I just want you to know that I am at your service."
"Well thank you, Anne," Tawnyetta said, smiling.
"Breakfast will be in the dining room starting at seven, if you please."
Tawnyetta's stomach woke up. She realized she was starving and couldn't remember how long it had been since she last ate. "Thank you, I will be down. Or we will be down," she added.
"Or, if you please, I'll be happy to bring breakfast to your room?" Anne suggested.
Tawnyetta was tickled at the idea of room service, but she had more interest in exploring the castle.
"No, thank you, not today. I'm happy to come to the dining room."
"As you wish," Anne said. She gave a fast curtsy and left.
After her long soak in the tub Tawnyetta fixed her hair and got dressed. She had brought blue jeans with her, but it didn't feel quite right to wear them. She wasn't sure how formal the dining room was, so she found a pair of khaki slacks and a black, long sleeved cotton pullover and threw on a pair of short black boots. She couldn't be sure if the rain was coming back and even with the fire going the castle was a chilly place, probably from all of the stone.
She scribbled a quick note for Bridget, telling her she was going to the dining room. Then she wrote that Bridget could either join her there or ring for their maid, Anne, to bring her breakfast. She used several exclamation points after that last sentence.
The hall outside their room was not massive as she remembered it. It was actually a rather narrow, circular space that followed the lines of their room and led directly to a spiral staircase that presumably led down into the main section of the castle. They must be in a turret
of some kind.
As she made her way down the spiral staircase and paused to peek out each small window that she came upon, she felt as if she had been knocked in the head the day before and taken to a totally new place and time. Somehow, she had moved through a veil that existed between her regular life in America and Claymore Castle.
It was a strange feeling, but everything was so gothic and beautiful. She felt like a princess. Or, better yet, a princess that was escaping from her tower. She smiled again. Her imagination really was on overdrive this morning.
Three stories down she finally entered the massive hallway that she remembered from the night before. The spiral staircase ended, spilling her out into a grand area that stretched for what looked like 100 feet or more, with splendid mirrors and tapestries hanging all along the walls, just like castles of old she'd only ever seen in books. There were doors on the far end and two sets of doors on either side. Tawnyetta realized she had no idea how to find the dining room.
She walked silently through the great hall, her footsteps muffled by another thick rug. This one was red and green with those same golden swirls worked into the pattern. It stretched impressively the full length of the hall. She was glad for her long sleeve shirt as there were no fireplaces in this space and the air was cool and a little stale, like being in a cave.
She decided to try her luck on the first set of doors to her left. She put her hand gingerly on the handle and tried it. It wasn't locked and she pushed the door open carefully, uncertain what she might find on the other side.
The room was dim, though daylight shone through floor to ceiling windows on the outside wall. What light there was illuminated a large, high ceilinged space with inlaid marble placed decoratively in the center of the stone floor and very sparse furnishings. There were, however, human forms standing stock still throughout. For a moment Tawnyetta thought she had stumbled upon actual people, but quickly realized that they were statues. Or, more precisely, suits of armor standing at attention. Swords and other weaponry hung as decor on the walls, making the whole space feel a little bit like a museum. A weapons room. Definitely not the dining room.
Curiosity filled her, but she didn't want to intrude in an area she hadn't been invited. Besides, her stomach was growling and she wanted breakfast. She closed the door and made a mental note to ask about the room and if she could come here and look around.
She crossed the hall to the next closest set of doors and grabbed the handle more confidently than she had the first one. She tried the handle, jiggling it roughly. It was locked.
Tawnyetta was embarrassed and a little nervous that maybe she had just tried to go into another guest's room. She listened for any sign someone was inside, perhaps another maid or staff person who may be able to help her find the dining room. There was no sound.
A strange feeling came over her. It wasn't a sound exactly, more like a sense. A presence. Tawnyetta wondered how old this building was. Was it hundreds of years old? Or thousands? Surely countless souls had moved through this place over time. The weapons room flashed through her mind. It was probable that the history of this castle was violent. Could there be remnants of the Scottish nobility that had lived here before floating around, watching her?
The door handle she had just tried turned suddenly with a loud click. Tawnyetta jumped back as the door lurched open.
Chapter Four
Tawnyetta gasped as the door jerked open revealing a powerful looking man who towered over her from the doorway. Gloom filled the unlit space behind him. Fierce blue eyes shone from the darkness as he glowered at her, his face wrinkled with an ill-tempered expression.
She froze like a rabbit about to be chased, but with nowhere to run. There was nothing to duck behind, no door to disappear into, just her in the wide hall standing in front of this ominous man.
He stepped into the hall and peered at her with impatience. "What can I do for you, lass?" he asked in a thick, but understandable, Scottish accent. His voice was deep and gravelly. The question abrupt, irritated. After he stepped into the hall she could see him better, and she found him at once terribly attractive and absolutely intimidating.
Looming over her with his height as well as the breadth of his shoulders and chest, he waited for an answer. He had thick, dark hair, cut short. It was messy as if he had just taken off a hat. His strong nose and wide square jaw, which sported a short beard, was distinctly masculine, a bit unruly. He looked dirty as if he'd been working outside in the wet and the mud.
He must be one of the staff. She must have stumbled upon a staff only door. His brusqueness made it obvious she wasn't welcome. Heat rose into her cheeks at her mistake. How could she tell the difference in this place? There wasn't a 'Staff Only' sign anywhere.
She stood up straighter and gathered herself, refusing to cower in front of this intimidation. She narrowed her eyes and met his gaze directly.
"Excuse me," she said coldly. "I was looking for the dining room."
The man arched his brow and gave her a once over, sizing her up as if she needed his permission to have breakfast. Tawnyetta pressed her lips together and did not look away. After a long moment he tilted his head toward her ever so slightly, a gesture of politeness she guessed, though it was a little too late in her opinion. He swept his arm toward the next set of doors with exaggerated chivalry.
"The dining room is across the way," he said.
Tawnyetta didn't like his tone. It seemed polite, but carried a hint of sarcasm. He was teasing her.
"Thank you," she said and turned on her heels away from him. She stalked towards the doors he had pointed to and had almost reached them when she heard his voice again.
"You are welcome, lass," his thick brogue rolled each consonant with flourish.
Tawnyetta paused and looked over her shoulder. He was standing where she'd left him, a look of amusement on his face that fell just short of a grin. Despite his good looks, his boldness irked her. She scoffed lightly and escaped into the dining room.
Besides the impertinence of the gardening crew, Tawnyetta found the rest of the staff at Claymore Castle to be delightful.
The butler's name was Stewart. He was slightly more than middle-aged, slightly taller than average, slightly bald, and slightly round. Kind and not quite as formal as Tawnyetta would have expected a butler to be, except for his crisply laundered grey vest and black tails, Stewart treated her like royalty.
There was the maid, Anne, whom she had already met, and another maid named Erin. The two were practically indistinguishable in looks from one another, except that Anne had blonde hair and Erin had light brown. They were equally sweet and accommodating, willing to instruct Tawnyetta on the general goings-on of the castle, and forgiving of her lack of knowledge regarding proper etiquette.
The cook's name was Doreen. Stewart introduced Tawnyetta to her in the kitchen while giving her a quick tour of the castle after breakfast. Doreen was all one would expect in a castle cook, if one ever expected to meet a castle cook. She was large breasted, stout, joyful, with red hair pulled up into a messy bun, rosy cheeks, bubbly blue eyes and a loud laugh. She invited Tawnyetta to come visit the kitchen if she ever felt hungry or in need of a good joke.
Stewart informed Tawnyetta that the caretaker of the grounds was named Dougie and they also had a general maintenance and deliveryman named Shaun. Neither of them were available during her tour, but she assumed the man she had met in the hallway was one of them. Probably Shaun. He hadn't struck her as a 'Dougie'.
Stewart showed her the library, the ballroom, and a sitting room that was ten times the size of her own living room back home. She found out that the wide hall she had passed through to get to breakfast was called the Great Hall. All of these rooms were open to guests, Stewart explained. He also motioned up a narrow stairway they passed during the tour and told her that it led to the servant's quarters. On their way back to the Great Hall they passed another set of closed doors, which Stewart ignored completely.
Up
on seeing her questioning look, he paused and said, "These are private quarters."
"I see." She wondered who lived inside. Were they Stewart's quarters? She thought it might be a pushy, rude, American thing to ask, so she went on with the tour without giving it another thought.
They entered the room she had happened upon earlier and she learned that her guess had been correct. This was the weapons room. Every type of blade imaginable was on display in glass cases or hanging on the walls.
"This is a room of sport," Stewart explained. "The main floor area is kept open for that purpose."
Eyeing all of the swords that came in countless shapes and sizes, Tawnyetta asked, "You actually practice sword fighting here? Like fencing?"
"Yes, ma'am," Stuart noticed her reaction. "Do you fence?"
"A little," Tawnyetta responded. She looked around the room with great interest.
"You are welcome to use this space to practice," Stewart informed her.
She smiled, "That would be really cool."
"Yes," Stewart acknowledged her with a little bow. "Cool."
As she had suspected while taking her bath, this day was turning out to be sunnier and dryer than the night before. Stewart showed her the grounds immediately next to the castle and indicated that she was welcome to explore them at her leisure. Her formal tour ended there and Tawnyetta took her time looking around.
She was impressed. The mist had burned away completely to reveal three pathways of white pebbles leading toward three different, magical gardens.
The center path led directly into a well-manicured flower garden. It contained perfectly pruned shrubs and colorful flowerbeds laid out in a geometric pattern with what looked like an unused fountain in the center. Of the other two paths, one headed directly into a wooded area. The other led into a garden that wasn't as well landscaped as the fountain garden, but looked to be even more beautiful. The path took her up ancient stone steps, under an arch of green boughs, and into a wondrous garden like the kind she'd only seen in fairy tales. Ornamental trees, green lawns, and curving naturally overgrown flowerbeds beckoned her to continue wandering.
