1 New Beginnings
As the carriage rumbled along the worn-out road, Isabella's gaze fixated on the vanishing crescent moon, its pale glow fading into the morning sky. Jolted by the carriage wheels, she felt a shiver crawl up her spine, her eyes transfixed on the bleak and lifeless expanse above. They approached a sprawling Gothic mansion, standing tall against a backdrop of ominous trees, their gnarled branches etched with grotesque demons and twisted angels. The figures seemed to leer, their fading gazes fixed upon the dying flowers below, victims of the chilling winds that whispered of winter's end. Clutched in Isabella's hand was a letter from her mother, the last connection to a world now tainted by sorrow.
Since early December, when no one came to collect her from school, Isabella had known something was amiss. The lonely halls of the boarding school had tested her sanity, the echoes hinting at a lurking darkness beyond her dormitory walls. The news of her father's demise in the letter had only deepened her despair. Her mother, consumed by grief, remained locked away in her Parisian bedroom, leaving Isabella adrift in a sea of emptiness that had once felt so distant during the winter term's final weeks. The letter, now worn and marked with tear stains and creases, revealed the truth about her current destination—her uncle's abode, her new home for the foreseeable future. The house, with its foreboding Gothic facade, exuded an unwelcoming aura, a sentiment shared by its surroundings. Every element held a sinister essence—the trees swathed in a deep, verdant hue that turned to a deathly brown in the distance, the feeble sunlight struggling to pierce through the enigmatic forest canopy, casting a silver pallor upon the withering grass and dying flora.
A surge of inspiration propelled Isabella to grab her satchel, reaching for paper and pencil within. Leaning against the satchel's back, she resolved to write a letter to her distant mother.
"Beloved Mother,
I hope you find solace in your heart. The unimaginable weight of Father's passing weighs heavily on me, and sadness fills every fiber of my being. I carry your letter ceaselessly, and now, I arrive at Uncle Edward's estate. Though this place appears menacing, I trust that its true nature is yet to be revealed, and you will soon join me here.
With love, Isabella"
Folding the completed letter, she slipped it into an unmarked envelope from her satchel's front pocket. She decided to send it first thing in the morning, once she had acclimated to the eerie ambiance of this unfamiliar abode and acquainted herself with her uncle, the enigmatic Lord Edward. As she stowed away the letter, the carriage screeched to a halt before the house's imposing steps. A man in a black tailcoat awaited on the stairs, his disheveled white hair tufted haphazardly. Descending with an almost ghostly grace, he opened the carriage door, motioning for Isabella to disembark onto the dampened driveway.
"Good morrow, madam. Lord Edward regrets his inability to personally greet you and extends his profound apologies," the man spoke, his eyes locked with Isabella's, laden with suspicion.
Isabella eyed him warily before stepping out, her light blue dress instantly fading into the dreary atmosphere. The air grew heavy, infused with an indiscernible, almost metallic, energy. Fatigued, she squinted at the man towering above her.
"And who might you be?" she inquired after a pause.
"I am Duncan, madam, Lord Edward's humble manservant." Before Isabella could utter another word, he abruptly pushed her aside and began shouting.
"You imbecilic fool! No, no, I'll handle it. Your payment has already been settled; don't linger for a tip. Be gone!" Duncan's voice boomed, his frustration palpable.
Isabella's gaze fell upon her suitcase, now burst open and strewn across the ground. The driver, distancing himself from the case he had retrieved from the carriage roof moments ago, grumbled to himself while ascending to his seat. As the horse surged forward, Isabella stood motionless, surveying her surroundings once more. Duncan scrambled to salvage whatever clean clothes remained within the now soiled and soot-covered case. Rain began to drizzle, casting a sheen upon the leather as tears mixed with the drops. Clutching the letter tightly, she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.
"You should seek fresh attire in the attic. Olivia's old clothes ought to be there, somewhere," Duncan suggested.
"Olivia?" Isabella inquired.
"Lord Edward's daughter, madam. She departed this world abruptly many years ago, poor soul." Isabella's discoveries multiplied within a single day. She had been oblivious to the existence of this cousin, Olivia, until this very moment—an overwhelming revelation. As Duncan, this peculiar manservant clad in a black tailcoat, busied himself gathering her soiled garments, Isabella contemplated him. How obedient he seemed, how peculiar. He possessed a knowledge of her uncle, her own flesh and blood, that surpassed her own. Moreover, he had known her cousin, this girl Olivia, with whom, in a different life, she might have forged a deep bond.
Once Duncan had restored the garments to the suitcase's dominion, he repeated the gesture he had performed when Isabella alighted from the carriage. Leading her toward the mansion's open double doors, she ascended the steps hesitantly, Duncan following close behind.
"The attic door awaits you on the top floor, down the hall, and up the final flight of stairs. I shall be down here tending to these garments should you require any assistance," he stated, nodding toward the soiled clothes. His tone grew darker as he added, "Please refrain from disturbing Lord Edward until this evening, madam."
