FAITH
The hundred rooms of Hawthorn Manor were rumoured to be shrouded in mystery, their whispered secrets known only to the brave souls who dared to explore them. The Hawthorn family, too, were cloaked in darkness and intrigue, their reputation for enigma and danger preceding them. It was to this shadowed estate that I found myself, Rosaline Faith Minerva, orphaned and uncertain of my future.
My parents had been recently laid to rest in the garden of our family estate, alongside generations of Minerva kin. I stood by their graves with a purse strapped to my side, the wind howling a mournful melody through the trees.
"Miss Minerva? The coach is waiting for you," called out my butler, Jonathan, and my cook, Martha, their sombre expressions weighing heavily upon me. I walked toward them, a sense of foreboding growing within me. I knew that once I left, I may never return.
As I approached the waiting coach, a young man stood beside it, his bag in hand. I recognised him as the recruit that Jonathan brought in months ago. My mother had recently passed at the time so I never got the chance to know him.
"Jean will be leaving for Hawthorn Manor with you," Jonathan said, his voice echoing through the quiet of the cemetery. "He will stay with you as long as you need him to. Miss Martha and I will keep watching over the house until you're ready to return."
I nodded, not because I agreed but because I didn't have the energy to protest. The only reason I was leaving for Hawthorn was that the Minerva house seemed lifeless, now that everyone except me is dead. I was the only living Minerva left. It would be torture to live in a house that was once considered overcrowded. I tried, but if I kept it up any longer, I would die of loneliness, and there was nothing the staff of the house could do about it.
That was when I received the letter from the Hawthorn house. It was written in the finest ink, and the handwriting was unmistakable. William Hawthorn. He wrote to me about his concerns about my father's passing and invited me to live in Hawthorn. He was offering to console me after my family and I had consoled him when his parents died.
Liam's letter was desperate. It arrived in Sabone just days after my mother's passing, begging me to leave the dreary island and join him in Cadone. Maybe he worried that, without my mother to confide in, I would drown my sorrows in the ocean. Or maybe he just wanted his childhood friend by his side. Either way, I knew I couldn't stay in Sabone any longer. The town had played a part in my father's death and my mother's illness and I didn't want to become their next victim.
I boarded a train to Cadone without looking back. Liam and I had grown up together at a boarding school in Sabone, and he often left for Cadone after we were finished for the semester. He was a lover of science and had grown to be one of the best inventors in Cadone.
He would write me letters about the bustling city, how it was different and bigger than our cramped island. When he turned twenty, he left for good to take up his place as the master of Hawthorn Manor and the head of the little that was left of the Hawthorn family in the highlands of East Cadon. In his letters, he told me of his experiences as a young master and how he quickly rose through the ranks to become the greatest inventor in Cadone in just seven years. He told me little about the Hawthorn family, except that they were peculiar and unlike any other noble family in Cadone.
As we travelled towards Hawthorn Manor, Jean told me more about the family and their reputation. The manor was the third-largest in all of Cadone, with over a hundred rooms. But the Hawthorns were reclusive and hardly left the manor. When they did, it was always a big deal.
We arrived at the gates of the manor, I couldn't help but stare in awe at the ancient and macabre beauty of the place. The sun seemed to avoid its darkness, and I shuddered at the thought of what secrets it held. It seemed void of life, or maybe my views of life had turned bleak and everything seemed less alive now.
Suddenly, I heard someone call my name, and before I knew it, I was enveloped in the arms of a tall man who lifted me off the ground. The unexpected contact felt awkward and nice at the same time. Neither of us were huggers. Especially not him, at least not the reclusive Liam I knew as a child, and though he wasn't a child anymore, he still had that familiar smell of a mix of paint and lead that I could never forget. It was faint, but it was there. As we pulled away, I realized he was a man now. The Liam I knew was lean as a twig, and he always had his hair cropped short. Now, he was different. Tall and handsome. His dark hair was longer now, and his chest broader. He looked like a different person. I couldn't help but stare up at him in wonder.
"Liam?" I asked, unsure.
"Faith,"
We said at the same time. A small smile spread across his face before he took a step back to get a good look at me.
"Wow! You're—" He didn't get the chance to complete his sentence before Jean came stumbling in with our bags lumped to his side. There was an older man by his side whom I must have missed when I walked in.
"This is Jean. Thank you for letting me stay here for a while. Sabone was starting to lose its appeal. He will be here with me if you don't mind" I said, taking one of the bags off Jean's shoulders.
Liam gave Jean a sweeping glance. There's a moment of silence between both men before Liam puts out a hand for a handshake. Liam is taller, but Jean's broad shoulders make him look like a bigger person.
"Of course, there are way too many rooms in this place anyway" he added as Jean took his hand. "Welcome to Hawthorn. Come, I'll introduce you to the family"
We walked through the garden, and I couldn't help but marvel at the sight of the beautiful flowers and just how much it contrasted with the gloomy aura around the house. There was moss growing on the walls, and a million dry leaves littered all over the pathways. It was obvious that the manor had not been managed well. Jonathan would have a fit the moment he stepped in.
"It's a whole lot quieter than it used to be when we were kids," I tell him. Liam nods, but he doesn't extend the conversation. The Hawthorn family has faced as much loss as the Minerva. Back when my father had business relations with the Hawthorns, he would bring me over to visit, and we would complain about how crowded it was despite the Hawthorn manor having a hundred rooms.
Liam pushed the main door open, and we walked into the large foyer. For some reason, it was much colder inside than it was outside. The stairs leading up to the two sections of the house were spread in front of us, and I could hear footsteps from the higher floors.
"Sir, I have arranged the rooms as you have asked" A young boy, no older than 18, said, rushing down the stairs.
"Great. Please, take these bags up for them. Faith, this is Harry. He's my assistant. Harry, Faith Minerva, and her companion, Jean" Liam introduced us as Harry took our bags. "Have Mary prepare dinner." He added as Harry walked towards the stairs.
"Seems like everyone is busy at the moment. You must be tired. Cadone is a long way from The Sab. You should rest. I'll gather everyone so we can meet at dinner" he said as he put his two hands together. My eyes land on the gold watch around his wrist, which didn't seem to be moving in the right direction, but I don't comment on it.
"That sounds great" I look up to find Harry standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for us. I wave to Liam before walking up the stairs and following slowly behind Harry as he hummed a familiar tone.
My eyes dart in every direction of the narrow hallway, and I take in as many details as I can. From the dusty vases, the withered flowers that no one bothered to change, to the patterned wallpaper that had done its time and finally the portraits of the Hawthorn family scattered in every direction. Some appeared as old as time, others much older. I would often stop to stare before picking up the pace when Jean and Harry got too far.
"It's beautiful in an odd sense," I say to no one in particular, but Jean grunts beside me. He's not a man of many words.
"And dirty. Jonathan would go mad at the sight of this place" he mutters under his breath but loud enough for Harry to hear. He turns around to give us a disapproving scowl before carrying on as if nothing happened.
"I'll have you know, the Hawthorn manor has stood for many generations. Too many. This part of the house has been abandoned for a long time. Only the master lives in this quarter. The rest of the family stays in the west wing. Master Liam has ordered everything to stay in its place and not be touched." His words come out cheerier than he meant them to be, and it was obvious.
"Still wouldn't kill you to clean up once in a while" Jean murmurs, but this time, I'm the only one who hears.
We arrive at a door, and Harry stops. "Your room, Miss Minerva" he announces as he opens the door. I step into the large space, and I can't help but marvel at the vintage beauty. It was a mixture of wild and vivid colours. Everything looked simple yet erratic. There was nothing in the room except a queen-sized bed, a large wardrobe, and a dressing table. It was empty, but the random colours made it look cramped.
"It's a special one. Designed by the Late Lady Josephine Lennox while she lived in Hawthorn. She was quite the artist. Would have loved you" a different voice stated from behind me. I don't need to turn around to know it's Liam.
"It's… wow" is the only coherent thing I can say.
"Wait till you see her paintings. You can change it up to suit your liking."
"I could just get a different room. I wouldn't want to disrupt—"
"It's been abandoned for sixty years, Faith. No one else will use it. It's yours now. Look around, you might find something interesting. I have to go. I'll see you at dinner." He says before walking out of the room. I realise Jean and Harry are no longer here.
I saunter around the room, taking in every odd bit of it before my eyes catch something scribbled on top of the dressing table.
"JIL. Josephine Imane Lennox"
The moment the name leaves my mouth, something crashes in the halls.