Drury Manor: Volume 1, Page 2

that exact moment. A thick man glided into our presence. His hair was longer and thicker than Trevor’s, but the same dark shade of red. He wore the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt rolled above the forearms, and I noted that the same coarse red hair grew on his arms.

  “Milton!” exclaimed this newcomer. He promptly moved toward my uncle and embraced him, grasping him at the elbows when they parted, beaming at him. He turned toward me, the smile never wavering, never faltering. “And this must be young Henry!”

  The stranger pumped my hand, grinning at me, always grinning. The wolfish smile never left his lips during that entire exchange. He asked me pointed questions in rapid-fire succession, as if I were the most fascinating person he had ever met in his life. So this was Esau Drury, the master of the estate. Over our host’s shoulder, Uncle Milton wore a sullen expression with which he silently reminded me to mind my manners and not say or do anything insulting. For some reason, Trevor scooted from the room, unnoticed by either adult.

  At no point did Esau inquire as to the accident, and I surely did not volunteer the information. I never wanted to speak of it again if I could help it. Uncle Milton had said in the car that his sending me to stay at Drury Manor was not meant as punishment, but I knew better. Did he think I was stupid?

  “Come, come!” Esau exclaimed after prying enough information from me to write a small biography. “Helen should have supper on the table any second! I bet you’re famished after your long trip!” His eyes gleamed and he patted me on my shoulder. I doubt I could have explained it at the time, but there was something behind his forced enthusiasm that I could not bring myself to trust. It was too unnatural to be real. There was something else behind those glassy eyes that did not quite match the exuberance he tried so hard to portend.

  Esau guided us from the sitting room back up the corridor and through the foyer. I fell into step behind the grown-ups, hands in my pockets, dragging my feet along the floor as Esau chatted with Uncle Milton in delighted whispers. I knew they were old friends, but from the way they leaned toward each other and the excitement level as they reconnected, I would have thought they were brothers who had finally found each other again after a lengthy separation.

  In the foyer, I stopped short at the foot of the winding staircase. It spiraled up to a landing on the second floor, decorated by an intricately carved wooden handrail and polished bars. I traced its path with my eyes up to the second story.

  A young girl crouched on the top step of the staircase, peering down at me from between two of the iron bars that supported the railing. Her skin was pale to the point of translucency, and her blonde curls looked like whirlwinds about her head. She could not have been more than five or six years of age, and she wore an immaculately pressed baby-blue dress that fell to her ankles. Her black pupils struck a sharp contrast against the whites of her eyes.

  I was mesmerized. For several seconds we regarded each other. Neither of us smiled or waved. We merely gazed, transfixed, into each other’s eyes, until a rough hand grabbed my arm, hard enough to hurt.

  “Come on, then!” Uncle Milton said.

  Esau waited at the far end of the foyer. My lagging about the staircase had caused them to leave me behind, and forced them to come back for me. Uncle Milton’s nostrils flared as he pulled me along, and Esau stood patiently with that same cheery smile plastered to his face. I just wished he would stop grinning like that; it unnerved me.

  We went through a different door this time, which brought us into the dining area. A white linen tablecloth spanned the length of the long table, which could have comfortably seated twenty or more guests. Someone had artfully arranged the expensive china and silver pots on the tabletop, and tall candles burned at even intervals. Despite the table’s seating capacity, at the moment there were only five of us: me, Uncle Milton, Esau, and an older couple who looked to be in their sixties.

  Esau took a seat at the head of the table, the older couple to his right, and indicated that Uncle Milton and I should sit to his left. Uncle Milton took the first available chair, and I seated myself next to him. A long row of empty chairs stretched away to my left.

  “Milton, Henry, I would like you to meet Spencer and Doris,” Esau said, gesturing one furry arm toward the older couple. Uncle Milton exchanged pleasantries with our new acquaintances. I nodded and tried to smile. That was it for the introductions. Esau did not bother to elaborate on who these two were nor did he explain to them who we were.

  Trevor arrived a few moments later, with a serving lady right on his heels. Helen, I presumed. He seated himself next to me while the server began to pass out cups of soup. I looked into my bowl, found it to be almost entirely broth, with pieces of celery floating in it.

  “Is anybody else joining us?” I asked, after everyone began eating.

  Esau cocked his head to one side. “It’s just us, I’m afraid.”

  “What about the young girl?”

  “What girl would that be?”

  “The one I saw in the foyer. The one that was watching me.”

  Esau drummed his fingers on his glass and regarded me for a moment. Then he chuckled. “Have we taken on another guest?” He looked around at the other assembled guests. Slight nods of heads and confused expressions were his only response.

  “The blonde-haired girl in the blue dress. She was sitting on the steps just now.” I stole a glance at my uncle. “Didn’t you see her when you grabbed my arm?”

  Uncle Milton stiffened and shook his head. He was giving me a very clinical and detached kind of look, and then he met Esau’s eyes, and something passed between them, some kind of knowing but unspoken exchange. It was a look that said, essentially, “Now you see it for yourself.” What exactly had Uncle Milton told Esau about me? How much had he revealed?

  “There are no young girls in this house,” Esau said at last. There is a certain kind of patronizing tone that adults often use when speaking to children, the kind that makes me want to punch people in the face. That particular tone crept into Esau’s voice as he answered me.

  Looking over, I noticed that Trevor seemed upset. A deep frown creased his face, and I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought he might have been fighting back tears. The conversation at the table picked up, the soup bowls were cleared, and we were on to salads.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered to Trevor while the adults were engrossed in meaningless conversation.

  He looked up at me. His bottom lip quivered.

  “They don’t like you,” he said.

  “You mean them?” I gestured to the adults seated around us.

  He shook his head.

  “No. Them.” He pointed overhead, toward the second floor, and again I could just make out the sound of the pitter patter of many small feet.

  3

  After supper, Helen began clearing dishes and the adults went into a parlor to smoke their pipes. Trevor and I found ourselves alone at the long table. I watched Helen stack the plates, and noted that she never once made eye contact with me. In fact, she went out of her way to avoid meeting my gaze. She was an older lady, not quite elderly, but definitely approaching that stage. Her face appeared at once stern but serene, as if she had only harsh words to say but was content to keep them to herself.

  Uncle Milton had coached me on the way up about the importance of complimenting the people who would be serving me. I wanted to ask Helen if she was the one who prepared the food. The roast tenderloin and vegetable medley had been fantastic, as much as I hated to admit it. But the old woman’s demeanor prevented me from speaking to her. It took several trips for her to clear all the serving dishes, during which time Trevor and I sat at the table in utter silence.

  I turned my head to follow Helen’s movement as she came and went through the doorway behind me. Unable to take the extreme quiet a moment longer, I chose a moment when she was gone to ask Trevor the question that was burning me up inside. Trevor sat there staring down at his lap. I leaned toward him.

  “I don’t g
et it. Hasn’t anybody seen that little girl wandering around the house before?” I said.

  He looked up at me and bit his lip. “They can’t see her.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “You have a problem,” Trevor said.

  “Just one?”

  “I’m serious,” he replied. “When the orphans don’t like somebody, they make life... difficult for that person.”

  “I’m sick of hearing about these stupid orphans.”

  Something crashed overhead. It sounded like glass. Trevor’s eyes darted to the ceiling. Fear crept into his face. “They heard that. Don’t make them angry on top of everything else.”

  I wanted to change the subject. “What are we supposed to be doing now? Just sitting here waiting for the adults to finish smoking?”

  I’m not sure at what point Helen returned, but I sensed her before I saw her. I spun around to find that she had been staring at the back of my head, an unreadable expression on her face. When my eyes met hers she quickly averted her gaze. I wanted to ask her what her problem was, but she so clearly wanted nothing to do with me that I decided to let it go. I waited for her to collect the silverware and disappear again before I tried to rouse Trevor from his self-imposed silent spell.

  “Do you know what my uncle told your father about me?” I asked. Trevor shook his head in the negative. It seemed it would take a great deal of