The House for Lost Things - Part Five

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NOTE: All pictures here are strictly for viewer's pleasure. Those of any people may or may not be the writer's idea of what a character looks like and were chosen to reflect the mood of the scene or an attribute or emotion of the individual, rather than the character.

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My body feels chilled when I open my eyes the next morning. I am lying in my bed with a blanket tucked around me and my head pillowed on Master’s coat. I do not remember coming to bed. Master must have moved me from the couch during the night.

Squinting around in the dimly lit chamber, I stretch and sit up, wiggling my toes. My slippers are not beside the bed. That means that I did not come here on my own. I yawn and move aside the blanket.

I stand up beside the bed. The cold stone floor seems to almost turn my feet to blocks of ice on contact. Standing on my tiptoes, I make the small bed up, folding the blanket. Then, I slip Master’s coat on over the dress I’m still wearing and head for the stairs.

I tiptoe down the stairs, past Master’s closed door and toward the kitchen. I use a dish to see my reflection in order that I might straighten my mussed hair. I shake out the folds of my dress and then set about preparing tea.

The kettle is hissing with the effort of boiling water for Master’s tea when I hear his voice and footsteps coming down the hall.

“Good morning, young Mister Andrew,” he says.

“Good morning, Sir,” I hear the new young man reply.

Something in my chest tightens with excitement and raw fear. Picking up a cloth and doubling it over, I lift the kettle off of the fire and set it on the counter, fetching the tea tray.

We’ve a new person among us now. Things will change, but in what manner?

I suppose we all fear the unknown, but after one has been locked away in a Mansion for eight years...anything out of the ordinary is exciting. But it is also something to be feared and kept at a distance. Master’s footsteps continue down toward the place he always takes his tea.

“Are you thirsty, Andrew? Would you like some morning tea? Esme makes the best tea you’ve ever had.”

I could almost hear the grimace in Andrew’s voice as he replied, “No thank you, Sir. I’m not one to take tea in the morning.”

Master’s voice remains amiable, “Very well then. Follow me to the study. I’ll have my tea and then Esme and I will show you about before we begin our work for the day.”

“Work?”

I pour the tea water in the teapot, adding spices from the jars in the cabinet above. The sweet scents fill my nostrils as they disappear into the water. I place the lid back on the teapot and steam begins to drift, like tendrils of smoke, from the spout.

Setting the teapot on the tray, I pick it up and hurry out of the kitchen to join them on their way to the study. Master doesn’t seem to notice me as I fall into step behind him. He is busy informing Andrew of our “work” for the Mirror and the people of Wales.

Andrew turns his head, upon hearing my footsteps. His look is neither pleased nor displeased, but very serious and uneasy. I smile grimly and slow, coming up close to Master. We make it all the way to the study before Master notices me.

“Good morning, Esme,” he smiles and moves aside so I can take his tea to the desk.

“Good morning, Master,” I smile back a little and take the tray over to the desk.

After leaving the tray on the desk, I go to the window and pull open the curtains for them. Master’s chair squeaks against the floor as he pulls it back to sit. The sound of its scraping hurts my ears.

No sooner have I poured his cup of tea, then Master invites Andrew over and the two begin to talk

Andrew

again. Andrew does not seem pleased.

“So when do I get to go home?” he asks Master after a time.

For a moment, the three of us are silent. I stand, facing Master, near his side, twisting my hands in the skirt of my dress.

None of us get to go home.

“You don’t,” Master shrugs. “Only the Mirror may send us back. Unfortunately, it would seem that people are the only thing that never leave this place.”

Andrew’s eyes spark angrily and he exclaims, “But I must leave this place! I am to be married soon and I will be missed.”

Master leans back in his chair, setting down his cup. It clatters lightly against its saucer.  Master’s jaw tightens a little and his smile, along with anything content or jovial in his expression, vanishes.

“Well, Mister Andrew,” Master replies crisply. “I’m afraid your bride will be long dead before you see her again.”

I glance Andrew’s way. His brow is furrowed and his eyes have narrowed slightly. His shoulders quake a little and his hands have folded into milky fists. Biting my lip, I turn myself away from him.

It is our lot.  

The morning and the introduction to the Mansion grounds pass by in a rather tense manner. I cleaned up Master’s tea things and tagged along with them as Master and Andrew combed through the magnificent but cold house we call “home”.

After a short while, I merely leave Master and Andrew alone and go to the front room to begin piling our new found treasures into piles of like things. There seemed to be much more than usual today, so much so that I could hardly see the stone floor.

I glanced toward the Mirror, still, reflecting the room about me.

Stay away from it, I warned myself.

I continue to make piles here and there. Piles of books, piles of household items, piles of clothing, piles of things I don’t even recognize. I’ve nearly finished when Master and Andrew come in. Many of my piles reach halfway up the walls and are nearly as wide as they are tall.

Andrew looks around himself and Master agrees, “You wouldn’t believe some of the things that people lose.”

The two of them enter the room and Andrew looks toward the Mirror.

“Is that it?” he asks, pointing a finger at the obvious reflector.

Master nods, “A beautiful creation in its own.” Andrew starts toward it. I jump at the loud clapping sound of Master’s hand, seizing Andrew’s arm. He shakes his head and warns, “Careful, boy. It would be wise for you to stay away from the Mirror.”

“Why?” Andrew’s eyes narrow and he looks from Master to the Mirror.

“If you aren’t careful, you could be sucked into someone else’s side of the Mirror,” Master tells him. “And that would be worse than being stuck here.”

“Why?” Andrew repeats, frowning deeply.

“Because no one has ever made it all the way back,” Master shrugs.

I know he is fibbing. No one knows what happens to those who get sucked into the Mirror. Not Master, not I, and certainly not Andrew. Only the Mirror itself would know that.

I shiver and turn away from them to hear Andrew say, “The only way things can get through is if someone is looking for them?”

“In the exact spot they were lost,” Master affirms.

“But there’s no way for us to get out?”

“None,” Master answers.

Andrew shakes his head in disgust as I pick up a stack of children’s books and take them to Master. Master smiles grimly at me and lifts the weight from my arms.

“Why does the Mirror trap people within it?” Andrew’s voice is filled with disgust.

Master doesn’t say anything, but heads toward the Mirror. When he doesn’t answer Andrew, I hesitate. Andrew looks down at me, frowning still.

“Perhaps,” I say softly. “It is angry with us or afraid of us.”

“Why would a Mirror have feelings?” Andrew snorts.

Shrugging, I go to get more books for Master and tell him, “Well, someone must have lost the Mirror, too. Perhaps, it wants us to understand itself?”

Andrew crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head again. Master stops and looks back at me. I lift my head and look  back at him. His gaze is filled with an expression I’ve not seen before. Something between suspicion and admiration.

Then, he turns away.

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