FAITH
My head snaps towards the door, and I step out of the room. My attention is drawn to a young woman standing by a toppled picture. Her blindfolded eyes and the cane in her hand give her away as visually impaired, and her cautious movements as she taps her way around the room speak of someone navigating a space they can't see.
"Is anyone there?" she calls out, her back to me.
"Are you alright?" I ask, approaching her.
Startled, she spins around, and I instinctively reach out to steady her, but she recoils at my touch.
"Who are you? What do you want?" she demands, her voice trembling.
"I'm Eleanor. I'm here to visit the Hawthorn family. Liam's a friend of mine," I explain, hoping to put her at ease.
"Liam? You know Liam?" she asks, sounding less defensive.
"Yes, we went to school together," I reply.
"Oh, Liam..." she trails off, lost in thought. "I'm Eleanor" she introduces herself, offering her hand. I study her features for a minuscule moment. She was young. Too young. No older than 19.
I take her hand gently and shake it. "Nice to meet you, Eleanor. I heard a noise and came to investigate. Is everything okay?" I gesture toward the fallen picture.
"Oh, that...I was trying to find my way back to my room and accidentally knocked it over," she explains, looking embarrassed.
"Do you need any help?" I offer.
"No, I'll be fine. Thank you, though. We don't get visitors often," she says, her voice softening.
"This place seems pretty quiet," I comment, looking around.
"It has been a while since it wasn't" She responds, tightening her grip around her cane. I bend over to pick up the broken frame, careful not to prick my fingers on the glass. The woman in the portrait is smiling, but her smile never reaches her eyes. Her face is familiar as if I had just spoken to her moments ago. My eyes travel from Eleanor to the woman in the portrait. Same ginger hair, same soft rounded features. The resemblance is uncanny, save for the eyes. The woman is much older than Eleanor.
I look up to meet Eleanor's eyes, but she's already fixing the loosened cloth around her eyes.
"Did you come for this?" I ask, wiping down the dirty portrait.
"What?"
"Oh," I breathe out, placing the picture on the mantle. I can't see her eyes, but I immediately get the feeling she's looking at me. I want to ask about the woman in the portrait, but I don't. It was too early for questions, and I was already worn out from everything I did earlier.
"I should get back to my room." She says with an awkwardly raised hand before turning around and disappearing down the hall.
I walk back into my room, shut the door, and fall into bed. It's harder than I was used to. Good, I didn't want to be around anything I was used to. Hawthorn Manor is a new start for me. I did not plan to move on, I don't want to grieve anymore. I didn't plan on living here forever, I just hoped the bustling city noise would be loud enough to numb out the intrusive thoughts that kept me trapped in the dark.
I fell asleep trying not to think of my parents. My thoughts would wander from the things I would do in Cadon to wondering what Jonathan was doing back at the Minerva house. I skipped dinner, but I'm sure someone came knocking at some point, calling me down for dinner, to which I mumbled "Not hungry". I probably shouldn't have done that because when hunger came knocking, it was darker than black, and not a single sound could be heard.
I roll out of bed, sticking my hand out to make my way in the dark and giving my eyes the chance to adjust to the unfamiliar environment. My toe collides with the edge of the wardrobe, sending a splitting pain through my body. I drop to the ground, massaging my foot while groaning in pain. This could never happen in Minerva, I knew the nooks and crannies of that place with my eyes closed. I mitigate the pain for an extra minute before reaching out for the handle of the wardrobe to lift myself. The wardrobe opens in the process, revealing a shiny object. A mirror.
The moonlight catches on the surface of the mirror, instantly illuminating the room enough for me to make my way to the curtains. Pushing it open, a cool draft blows into the room. The moonlight is dim, but at least I can navigate the room without sacrificing another toe.
I return to the wardrobe. Except for the large blue mirror, It's practically empty because I haven't unpacked my bags yet. Beside it, is a lamp. I take it out, hoping to heaven that it still works. The Hawthorn manor is ancient, but they could have at least installed some lights. This isn't the Stone Age. I give the lamp a turn, and it flickers on.
"Thank Goodness" I breathe.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me of the reason I woke up in the first place. With one final glance at the odd-looking mirror, I close the wardrobe and begin my quest to find food. I have no idea where the kitchen or anywhere else other than my room is, and I doubt anyone would be awake this late to help, but that didn't stop me from leaving my room.
The halls are harder to navigate in the dark. The pictures on the wall didn't make it easier. I tried to distract myself from my grumbling stomach by staring at the portraits I admired when we first arrived, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was being watched by them instead. The manor has been occupied by the Hawthorn family since the fourth Queen of Cadon, Charlotte, passed. We are currently in the era of her great-granddaughter, Queen Anaisse. Even the royal family had great respect for the Hawthorn family. A few names could be found in the history books of the seven isles of Ilea linking back to the Hawthorn family. The Hawthorn family was a family of inventors, and each generation had a great inventor or scientist waiting to shine. Charles and Heather Hawthorn were part of the team that cooperated on steam trains and airships. Adora Hawthorn who was mentored by her father, Charles, can be found with too many inventions credited to her. I dare not forget the extraordinary Liam Hawthorn who is now making his name.
I try to recall as much as I learned from history as I walk through the halls. Some names are unfamiliar while some I have little to no knowledge about. My history lesson ends when I reach the bottom of the staircase, and I finally see some light coming from the other side of the house. Seems like the lights don't work on one side of the house.
The eerie silence has me turning back at every sound. The only comfort that I wasn't alone in this gigantic house was the faint sound of someone snoring in the distance. Making my way to the kitchen, I pass by many closed doors, stopping to admire the architecture of the place. It felt like walking through a castle, I guess it was. Setting the lamp on the isolated kitchen island, I begin my food search.
It didn't take long to find something edible amidst the layers of spice cabinets and snack drawers. After moments of searching, I settle for the unopened pack of crackers accompanied by a jar of peanut butter. I decided to take it up to the room with me in the unlikely event that someone walks in. I would hate to explain why I was up at 3 am rummaging through the kitchen like a rat.
Speaking of rats, something critters outside, and my head snaps in the direction of the sound. Holding the pack of crackers in one hand, I place the jar under my arm, tensing up to secure it tightly and turn to pick up the lamp. My heart sinks to my stomach at the dead lamp. It went out.
"Dammit!" I curse as quietly as I can, putting down the items in my hands on the counter before trying to revive the lamp. After multiple flicks, it sputters out again. My next thought is to leave without it and make my way back to the room in total darkness.
Somehow, the walk back up is much more uncomfortable than the walk down. There's a chill in the air that wasn't there earlier. The hairs on my skin stood at attention, and goosebumps littered my arms. I didn't wear a sweater, I didn't even change from the clothes I arrived in. Something that would have never happened if I hadn't been so exhausted.
"What do you mean there's someone in the room? There hasn't been anyone in that room for sixty years?!" I hear someone whisper from the other side of a door, and I stop in my tracks. It's a man, but his voice is unfamiliar.
"There's someone— she came in today. The young master brought her" A woman replies. It dawns on me that their conversation is about me. Who could be up this late?
"That bloody bastard thinks he can do whatever he wants with my house?!" The man sneered. The accent in his speech is not Cadonian. In fact, it didn't belong to any country on the Western Isles. My curiosity was piqued by his brash claim. His house? Is he a family member?
"Technically, it's his house…" The woman's voice trailed off.
"We have to get rid of her" My breath hitches at the sound of that.
"And how do we do that?"
"I don't know. I need to access that room if I want to leave this place so you better figure it—" There's a pause. "Someone's awake"
My first instinct is to hide. I retract my foot, but something bumps into me. I jump away, letting out the most blood-curdling shriek that I didn't know my vocal cords could make. The items in my hand fall to the ground.
"Bloody hell, Faith! Are you alright?"
My vision adjusts to the darkness and I recognize the voice at the same time. Liam turns on a hand torch, instantly lighting up the hall when he points it up to the ceiling.
"Liam?! What in the world is wrong with you? You scared the hell out of me? What are you doing here?" I ask breathlessly, rising to my feet.
Liam sighs, taking a step back to place the torch on a mantle, before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. His brows crease, and his eyes dart from one side of the hall to the other as he tried to think of a response.
"I came to check on you" He replies, smoothly. It's an obvious lie but I don't comment on it. Liam crouches down to pick up the fallen items, letting out a light scoff as he studied the label before handing it to me. "I told Harry to bring up some snacks for you before he went to bed. I guess he forgot"
I take the jar from him, eyeing him cautiously, still jarred from the earlier encounter. My eyes drop to his hands, catching the blood on his knuckles right before he shoves them back into his pockets. "Thank you"
"You should go back in. The halls can be a little scary at night if you're not used to it. The electricity on this side comes and goes but it should be back on by morning. You can keep the torch" he says, handing it over too.
"Alright, Good night" I respond, turning the other way. I throw a final glance to the door where I had overheard the conversation, making a mental note to ask for a room change in the morning. I came to Hawthorn for a distraction, not for trouble. Liam waits in the hallway until I'm back in my room before his footsteps resound through the quiet house. Which begs the question, why was he wearing riding boots in the house, at 3 am?