I am Sunsh
As always...this is not a homework assignment. Just some creative fun on YA....so have some fun, my friends!
1. I think it was the work of a deranged interior decorator.
2. When you're going through hell, don't slow down.
3. Now THAT'S entertainment.
4. What would Matt Dillon and Sunshine do at a time like this?
5.She's a witch! A witch, I tell you!!
6. Noooooooooo....that would NOT be okay.
Answer
I'm sorry this is so long! You know how it is, though, right? I get started and the story isn't done, so I keep going. Anyway, I hope you like it!
I immediately knew it was a mistake to agree to go with John to the dinner party. The dark scary mansion on the hill gave me some small clue this was not a smart idea. I almost got out of the car when we reached the gates. But all John had to do was smile and wink at me with those clear blue eyes, and I felt calmer. I trusted him. After all, I trusted him enough to agree to marry him. In retrospect, I may have been just a bit hasty.
Our car coasted up into a large roundabout in front of the house. Two other vehicles were already parked there. I heard John give a small scoff. "Glenna Wickham. Should have known."
"Who is she?" I asked, not recognizing the name, and naturally being curious.
Waving his hand and dismissing the whole matter, John climbed out of the car and opened my door for me. He's sweet like that. We walked up to the large front entrance and John rang the bell. The door opened slowly and a man in tux and tails, the butler apparently, admitted us.
"John Morgan and Miss Katherine Lewis," he intoned as he led us into a large open drawing room. I wondered vaguely how on earth he knew my name, but realized John must have sent an RSVP earlier. There in the room stood seven people, four women and three men dressed in wonderful finery. Instantly I liked the short, rather round man near the windows. His pipe and white beard reminded me of Santa Claus, which I suppose was why I liked him. The other two men appeared amiable as well, though the blond wore several rings on both hands. As for the women, Mrs. Claus gently sat on the window seat. A blonde in a bright blue dress walked over to the blond man and took his arm in what I can only assume was a possessive gesture, and a tall willowy redhead did the same with the other man. I felt almost tempted to take John's arm, but I resisted the urge. The fourth woman smiled brightly and stepped forward. "John Morgan. Glad you could make it."
John gave a nodding bow. "Mrs. Rochester. Thank you for inviting us."
"Indeed." Mrs. Rochester's smile never wavered. "Allow me to introduce you. This is Mr. Nicolas and Mrs. Klara Rassini," she gestured to Mr and Mrs Claus. "Mr. Gerald and Mrs. Lisa Porter," pointing to the two blonds. Lastly she turned to the pair, the female of which seemed to be somewhat glaring at me. "Mr. Henry D'Auber, and I'm sure you already know Miss Glenna Wickham."
John gave each of them a small bow in turn. I began to ponder just what I was missing, but Mrs. Rochester interrupted my chain of thought.
"Now that you are all here," she clapped her hands in delight, "we can begin. If you will follow me."
Being that this was a dinner party, I had in mind she was leading us to the dining hall, and yet knew that was not the case as we went up a staircase and into the darker regions of the house.
As if she had guessed my thoughts, Mrs. Rochester called over her shoulder, "Dinner will be at eight. For now, to business."
Business? I thought this was just a dinner date! I could barely contain my confusion as we seated ourselves around a long oval table. It was only then I realized there was something odd about this particular room's decor.
There wasn't any.
No paintings, no pictures, no furniture for that matter besides the table and chairs at which we sat. The walls and floor were made of the same dull grey stone.
"What a dreary room," I muttered to John.
"I think it was the work of a deranged interior decorator," he muttered back, a ghost of a smirk playing over his expression. "Decor a la Mrs. Rochester."
I shushed him, worried the others would hear him. Luckily, no one noticed as Mrs. Rochester sat and daintily cleared her throat to get our attention.
She politely asked, "Would anyone care for a drink?" I jumped in surprise as a silver tray held by that most singular butler was abruptly and silently placed on the table. The tray held nine glasses, which contained a soft amber hued liquid. I was not sure what it was. Perhaps a cognac or something of the sort. But I was willing to try something new.
"None for us, thank you," Mrs. Claus gently slapped Santa's hand as he reached for a glass.
"Klara," he pleaded under his breath.
She simply shook her head.
The rest of us, however, happily accepted the drinks. When I sipped it, it tasted rather like honey, and I realized it was not quite cognac. I did not particularly like it, and so I politely pretended to sip at it for a bit before I put it on the table.
"Now, to business." Mrs. Rochester smiled warmly, and yet I felt a bit of a chill. "I have called you hear to announce the location of the Viennese Drake."
Five of the people in the room gasped at this. The rest of us - myself, Lisa Porter, and Henry D'Auber- did not, as we had no idea what on earth she meant.
"You have succeded, then?" John asked, eagerly leaning forward.
"The Viennese Drake? What is it?" I asked, voicing the thoughts of we poor confused souls.
Glenna Wickham looked down her nose at me with an expression that could have cooled magma. "It is not a what. It is a who."
I could only raise one eyebrow, as this left me rather speechless. Who? What? Wait, excuse me?
"The importance of the matter," Mrs. Rochester intoned, "is that he has been found."
"But how?" Mrs. Claus managed to gasp.
"Who cares? This calls for a toast!" Santa reached again for the glass, and again was rebuffed, this time by Mrs. Rochester as well. She whispered to him, and though I could not hear all the words, I thought I heard the term "amnesiatic".
"As most of you know," Mrs. Rochester continued, "the Viennese Drake was last seen in South America. Most expeditions stayed in that locale, which I knew, of course, was a mistake. It was entirely illogical. Being a chased man, he would not stop. After all, when you're going through hell, don't slow down. Once at Cantares, a small village in Peru, I managed to pick up his trail. He was, rather surprisingly, a quick traveler, and I caught up with him..." She leaned forward... "On this very continent!"
Another four gasps and three totally confused people. I had no idea what was going on, who they were talking about, and why John had such a look of earnestness playing about his features. Perhaps I had agreed to marry him too soon.
"But this is a continent! Where?" John let out a strange, strangled gasp. I had never heard that emotion in his voice before - an odd mix of both the good and the bad types of anxiety.
Mrs. Rochester turned slowly to him. "Now, if I simply gave it away, what fun would that be? I think we must make it a game. A dinner party without any sort of amusement would be frightfully dull. I have made it a sort of scavenger hunt, with an immense reward at the winning. Now THAT'S entertainment."
"Noooooooooo.... that would NOT be okay," Glenna Wickham fairly snarled, her face a pale, angry purple. "I was the one who found he had gone to Peru! Without me, you would not have even realized that much!"
"Nonsense, darling," Mrs. Rochester smiled politely. "You believed he had, from there, gone to Central America, which unfortunately was false. I was able to look at what scant evidence you had found and realize he had left a false trail. Thus the finding is to my credit."
Miss Wickham was understandably perturbed. "She's a witch! A witch, I tell you!! How can she do this to us, after all we went through? No games! Just tell us!"
"I am inclined to side with Miss Wickham," Santa said. "We have been through quite enough, don't you think?"
At this point I decided I had had enough. As far as I knew, they had been speaking Martian for the last few minutes. "Would you excuse me," I asked Mrs. Rochester as politely as I could manage. "Where is the ladies' room?"
"Charles, show her," she said absentmindedly, keeping her attention with the argument going on around her.
"This way, if you please," the butler spoke. I stood and followed him out of the room. I tell you, I was pleased to have left. I was not entirely comfortable with knowing there was more to John than he had at first admitted. I looked down at my purse. I had the car keys. Hmm... I shook my head. What was I thinking? I was going to leave John? No. I loved him.
I sighed softly.
"Is there anything wrong, Madam?" the butler asked.
"No," I answered. But then I realized something. The butler had an accent. "Thank you for your assistance, sir. If I may ask, what is your name?"
He hesitated, as if having to remember. "Charles James, Madam."
That wasn't enough to prove my suspicions. "Are you by any chance related to the James of Plymouth County?"
"No, Madam."
Was he going to only say yes and no? That would not be enough!
"Are you positive?"
"Unless it be very distantly, I am not aware of the relation."
I nodded. That was enough, and I had detected underneath a thorough American accent the light traces of Austrian. Almost German, but lighter. More melodic. I smiled. This, assuredly, was the Viennese Drake. Of course, having found this out, what on earth was I to do? What would my heroes do? What would Matt Dillon and Sunshine do at a time like this? Hmmmmm...
Perhaps it wasn't subtle to ask him right out, but nevertheless I tried. "Do you know anything about what they are discussing down there? I'm afraid it's all gone right over my head. Who is the Viennese Drake?"
I saw the butler give a small jolt, but regain his composure almost immediately. "As far as I know, Madam, he is a legendary man. Many claim to have seen him, but none have proof."
"But what is he so legendary for? I mean, why do they all seem to think so highly of him?"
"He is, as you might say, a 007 of his kind."
"Oh. Do you believe he exists?"
"No, Madam. Here you are."
I looked up and realized he had led me to the ladies' room. I smiled. "Thank you, Mr. James."
"Will that be all you require, Madam?"
I thought for a moment. "Perhaps you could bring John here for me. I seem to have forgotten my pills in the car, and he has the keys."
Which, yes, was a lie, but I don't regret saying it.
"Yes, Madam."
He returned the way we had come as I went into the ladies' room. Once inside I leaned against the door and caught my breath. I had no idea why my heart was pounding so fast, but it could be I had just realized I had just met a very interesting person.
I slapped myself. Stop that! You're engaged to John!
Thinking of John, I began to ponder. Why was he so gung-ho about finding this Viennese 007? As far as I knew, John was an upper middle class businessman, not at all the type to be drawn into games of intrigue. I realized I did not really know John at all.
When he arrived, I still had not decided whether or not to tell him. A well-put question would solve my delimma, and I sturdied my strength and just flat out asked it.
"Why, John, are you so intent to find this man you are looking for?"
His beautiful eyes shone in surprise. "What, Kate?"
I shrugged. "I sat at a table at which you discussed many things I do not understand. I assume that is the only reason you allowed me to sit there. Because I could not understand it. But I really would like to know. Why does this man mean so much to you?"
He smiled warmly, but it did not entirely reach his eyes. In that moment I sensed something in John. Something dark and unpleasant. And knew I could never marry him, no matter what his answer. When it came, it was a lie as I had expected. "We wish to be benefactors, and having found him we can do that."
I smiled in return, but knew it was over. I did not want John to know I planned to ditch him. "You are such a good man." The words tasted muddy in my mouth, but I kept up pretenses. "Please, go back to the dinner party. I'll be with you in a moment. I've only forgotten my pills in the car."
He smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "Very well, darling. Don't worry about anything. You'll soon forget, anyway." He kissed me, and though his last statement left me in a state of anxiety, I did not pull away. Though he did not know it, that was to be our last kiss.
When I reached the front door, the "butler" opened it for me. "Do you require my assistance, Madam?"
I smiled softly at him. "I might. That depends."
His left eyebrow rose slightly, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him.
"I know things," I said. "I know who you are, but other things need answering. Why are they after you, and being that they are after you, why on earth are you hiding here?"
He frowned. "I knew I had said too much. What did I say that let you know?"
"It was not what you said, but how you said it. Though you hid it very well, I heard your accent. That," I smiled, "and most butlers do not talk to guests as much as you did."
The corners of his mouth turned up in a very becoming way. "I see."
"Now that we've agreed on the finer points, could you answer my questions?"
He did not need to be reminded what they were. "For years I have been... observing Mrs. Rochester and her business associates. They have, to say the least, been rather nefarious in their dealings, and I have reported this to my office. As this cannot of course put me in good standing with them, they have attempted to find me. Knowing this, I have put down trail after trail, each time leaving some explanation of how I could have discovered their schemes from another country. Thus, they never suspect I am, in fact, right here. Now, to you. How can I be of assistance?"
I turned my head slightly in the direction of the house. "I cannot marry John. But I cannot simply break it off. The consequences of that would be disastrous if I were to stay around. I cannot simply run, either, as you know as I know now what contacts John has at his disposal. So..."
He nodded in understanding, but instead asked something I did not expect. "Did you drink the cognac?"
After a pause, I said, "Only a sip. Why?"
He sighed. "It seems you do have a problem. Had you imbibed the glass, all that you have learned tonight would be forgotten by tomorrow. As it is... Perhaps you should have finished your glass."
"That explains the amnesiatic." I shook my head. "My world has turned completely upsidedown. I would happily drink that glass, but knowing what I saw in John... Even though I would not remember, who knows when he might show it again? I would much rather have your help now, and be sure."
"After you have gotten your pills, we will discuss it."
I smiled. "I have no pills."
Both his eyebrows rose, but he smiled. "I see. Clever of you. Very well. As far as I see it, the best hiding spot is right under their noses, as long as you leave several trails showing them you are elsewhere. Wait here a moment."
He closed the door and left me standing there. It was dark now, and I felt incredibly spooked. Finally he returned, with a large bag. I didn't ask what was in it, because he immediately said, "Give me your keys."
I did so, unhesitatingly. He went to our car and sat in the driver's seat. The darkness outside made it difficult for me to tell what he was doing, but soon he emerged. He opened the bag and began placing whatever was inside it across the passenger's seat, opening the glove compartment as well. When he had finished, he shut the car and walked back to me.
"Hurry," he said, pulling me inside. "We have five minutes."
Having only the slightest idea what was going on, I followed him through a secret servant's passage down into the house. Suddenly he stopped and motioned for me to be silent. He crept further down the passage, leaving me there.
Let me tell you, I was not comfortable with that at ALL! I began to worry about being encased in the walls for the rest of my life... however short that would be... but when I stopped listening to the loud beating of my heart, I realized I could hear faint voices to the other side of the wall.
"Please, everyone, take your seats," Mrs. Rochester spoke.
"Kate is not back from the car," John said.
"She can join us in a minute. You'll show her in, won't you, Charles?"
"Yes, Madam," I heard the man I knew as the Viennese Drake answer.
From there, I heard them begin on dinner. I began to wonder what was going on, when suddenly I heard what sounded like someone dropping a cabinet down a staircase.
Among the rest of the startled cries, I heard Mrs. Rochester exclaim, "My word, what was that?"
Throughout the confused and concerned babbling, I heard John asking where I was. I almost yelled out to him, but forced myself to remain quiet. I was sad to do this, but then I remembered that soulless expression he had had. I shuddered and kept silent.
"What happened?" Mrs. Rochester suddenly asked.
"An accident," the Drake said, causing all the anxious chatter to die down immediately.
"Oh God," John gasped. "Kate?"
I assume the Drake nodded solemnly, but I could of course not see it.
A loud uproar ensued, and then faded as everyone left the room and rushed outside to look at what I can only assume was the car aflame. After a few moments of utter silence, I jolted as the Drake whispered in my ear, "Follow me."
We continued down the passage, emerging into a small dusty room. "Pardon the mess," he muttered. "I chose to leave my room as it was and tend to my duties instead. Wait here. I'll return shortly."
A bit more comfortable than I had been in the passage, I waited. An hour went by, and I grew more tense by the second.
"So, what happened?" I asked immediately as the Drake returned.
"They believe you dead."
I paled, but nodded. It was the best way out of my predicament I could see.
"Your car, naturally, was incinerated in the explosion..." he tried to put this delicately, but it did not work. "As were you. They found your... well..."
"Charred remains?"
He blinked in surprise at my bluntness, but nodded.
I shrugged. What else did I expect? "Now what?"
"You begin your new life."
"Any chance I could do that as a 007 of my kind?"
He smiled, and I found myself grinning back. "You are, as I have said, clever. We'll talk to headquarters in the morning. Until then, you have to hide. No one ever comes up here, and so you will be fine."
I started to protest. After all, think about it!
He shook his head. "Mrs. Rochester will undoubtedly find many tasks for me to do tonight. I doubt I will get a chance to sleep anyway. You won't see me at all."
He left, and I sat on the bed, pondering. Life would hold all manner of surprises now. I grinned. Then again, who said that was a bad thing?
I'm sorry this is so long! You know how it is, though, right? I get started and the story isn't done, so I keep going. Anyway, I hope you like it!
I immediately knew it was a mistake to agree to go with John to the dinner party. The dark scary mansion on the hill gave me some small clue this was not a smart idea. I almost got out of the car when we reached the gates. But all John had to do was smile and wink at me with those clear blue eyes, and I felt calmer. I trusted him. After all, I trusted him enough to agree to marry him. In retrospect, I may have been just a bit hasty.
Our car coasted up into a large roundabout in front of the house. Two other vehicles were already parked there. I heard John give a small scoff. "Glenna Wickham. Should have known."
"Who is she?" I asked, not recognizing the name, and naturally being curious.
Waving his hand and dismissing the whole matter, John climbed out of the car and opened my door for me. He's sweet like that. We walked up to the large front entrance and John rang the bell. The door opened slowly and a man in tux and tails, the butler apparently, admitted us.
"John Morgan and Miss Katherine Lewis," he intoned as he led us into a large open drawing room. I wondered vaguely how on earth he knew my name, but realized John must have sent an RSVP earlier. There in the room stood seven people, four women and three men dressed in wonderful finery. Instantly I liked the short, rather round man near the windows. His pipe and white beard reminded me of Santa Claus, which I suppose was why I liked him. The other two men appeared amiable as well, though the blond wore several rings on both hands. As for the women, Mrs. Claus gently sat on the window seat. A blonde in a bright blue dress walked over to the blond man and took his arm in what I can only assume was a possessive gesture, and a tall willowy redhead did the same with the other man. I felt almost tempted to take John's arm, but I resisted the urge. The fourth woman smiled brightly and stepped forward. "John Morgan. Glad you could make it."
John gave a nodding bow. "Mrs. Rochester. Thank you for inviting us."
"Indeed." Mrs. Rochester's smile never wavered. "Allow me to introduce you. This is Mr. Nicolas and Mrs. Klara Rassini," she gestured to Mr and Mrs Claus. "Mr. Gerald and Mrs. Lisa Porter," pointing to the two blonds. Lastly she turned to the pair, the female of which seemed to be somewhat glaring at me. "Mr. Henry D'Auber, and I'm sure you already know Miss Glenna Wickham."
John gave each of them a small bow in turn. I began to ponder just what I was missing, but Mrs. Rochester interrupted my chain of thought.
"Now that you are all here," she clapped her hands in delight, "we can begin. If you will follow me."
Being that this was a dinner party, I had in mind she was leading us to the dining hall, and yet knew that was not the case as we went up a staircase and into the darker regions of the house.
As if she had guessed my thoughts, Mrs. Rochester called over her shoulder, "Dinner will be at eight. For now, to business."
Business? I thought this was just a dinner date! I could barely contain my confusion as we seated ourselves around a long oval table. It was only then I realized there was something odd about this particular room's decor.
There wasn't any.
No paintings, no pictures, no furniture for that matter besides the table and chairs at which we sat. The walls and floor were made of the same dull grey stone.
"What a dreary room," I muttered to John.
"I think it was the work of a deranged interior decorator," he muttered back, a ghost of a smirk playing over his expression. "Decor a la Mrs. Rochester."
I shushed him, worried the others would hear him. Luckily, no one noticed as Mrs. Rochester sat and daintily cleared her throat to get our attention.
She politely asked, "Would anyone care for a drink?" I jumped in surprise as a silver tray held by that most singular butler was abruptly and silently placed on the table. The tray held nine glasses, which contained a soft amber hued liquid. I was not sure what it was. Perhaps a cognac or something of the sort. But I was willing to try something new.
"None for us, thank you," Mrs. Claus gently slapped Santa's hand as he reached for a glass.
"Klara," he pleaded under his breath.
She simply shook her head.
The rest of us, however, happily accepted the drinks. When I sipped it, it tasted rather like honey, and I realized it was not quite cognac. I did not particularly like it, and so I politely pretended to sip at it for a bit before I put it on the table.
"Now, to business." Mrs. Rochester smiled warmly, and yet I felt a bit of a chill. "I have called you hear to announce the location of the Viennese Drake."
Five of the people in the room gasped at this. The rest of us - myself, Lisa Porter, and Henry D'Auber- did not, as we had no idea what on earth she meant.
"You have succeded, then?" John asked, eagerly leaning forward.
"The Viennese Drake? What is it?" I asked, voicing the thoughts of we poor confused souls.
Glenna Wickham looked down her nose at me with an expression that could have cooled magma. "It is not a what. It is a who."
I could only raise one eyebrow, as this left me rather speechless. Who? What? Wait, excuse me?
"The importance of the matter," Mrs. Rochester intoned, "is that he has been found."
"But how?" Mrs. Claus managed to gasp.
"Who cares? This calls for a toast!" Santa reached again for the glass, and again was rebuffed, this time by Mrs. Rochester as well. She whispered to him, and though I could not hear all the words, I thought I heard the term "amnesiatic".
"As most of you know," Mrs. Rochester continued, "the Viennese Drake was last seen in South America. Most expeditions stayed in that locale, which I knew, of course, was a mistake. It was entirely illogical. Being a chased man, he would not stop. After all, when you're going through hell, don't slow down. Once at Cantares, a small village in Peru, I managed to pick up his trail. He was, rather surprisingly, a quick traveler, and I caught up with him..." She leaned forward... "On this very continent!"
Another four gasps and three totally confused people. I had no idea what was going on, who they were talking about, and why John had such a look of earnestness playing about his features. Perhaps I had agreed to marry him too soon.
"But this is a continent! Where?" John let out a strange, strangled gasp. I had never heard that emotion in his voice before - an odd mix of both the good and the bad types of anxiety.
Mrs. Rochester turned slowly to him. "Now, if I simply gave it away, what fun would that be? I think we must make it a game. A dinner party without any sort of amusement would be frightfully dull. I have made it a sort of scavenger hunt, with an immense reward at the winning. Now THAT'S entertainment."
"Noooooooooo.... that would NOT be okay," Glenna Wickham fairly snarled, her face a pale, angry purple. "I was the one who found he had gone to Peru! Without me, you would not have even realized that much!"
"Nonsense, darling," Mrs. Rochester smiled politely. "You believed he had, from there, gone to Central America, which unfortunately was false. I was able to look at what scant evidence you had found and realize he had left a false trail. Thus the finding is to my credit."
Miss Wickham was understandably perturbed. "She's a witch! A witch, I tell you!! How can she do this to us, after all we went through? No games! Just tell us!"
"I am inclined to side with Miss Wickham," Santa said. "We have been through quite enough, don't you think?"
At this point I decided I had had enough. As far as I knew, they had been speaking Martian for the last few minutes. "Would you excuse me," I asked Mrs. Rochester as politely as I could manage. "Where is the ladies' room?"
"Charles, show her," she said absentmindedly, keeping her attention with the argument going on around her.
"This way, if you please," the butler spoke. I stood and followed him out of the room. I tell you, I was pleased to have left. I was not entirely comfortable with knowing there was more to John than he had at first admitted. I looked down at my purse. I had the car keys. Hmm... I shook my head. What was I thinking? I was going to leave John? No. I loved him.
I sighed softly.
"Is there anything wrong, Madam?" the butler asked.
"No," I answered. But then I realized something. The butler had an accent. "Thank you for your assistance, sir. If I may ask, what is your name?"
He hesitated, as if having to remember. "Charles James, Madam."
That wasn't enough to prove my suspicions. "Are you by any chance related to the James of Plymouth County?"
"No, Madam."
Was he going to only say yes and no? That would not be enough!
"Are you positive?"
"Unless it be very distantly, I am not aware of the relation."
I nodded. That was enough, and I had detected underneath a thorough American accent the light traces of Austrian. Almost German, but lighter. More melodic. I smiled. This, assuredly, was the Viennese Drake. Of course, having found this out, what on earth was I to do? What would my heroes do? What would Matt Dillon and Sunshine do at a time like this? Hmmmmm...
Perhaps it wasn't subtle to ask him right out, but nevertheless I tried. "Do you know anything about what they are discussing down there? I'm afraid it's all gone right over my head. Who is the Viennese Drake?"
I saw the butler give a small jolt, but regain his composure almost immediately. "As far as I know, Madam, he is a legendary man. Many claim to have seen him, but none have proof."
"But what is he so legendary for? I mean, why do they all seem to think so highly of him?"
"He is, as you might say, a 007 of his kind."
"Oh. Do you believe he exists?"
"No, Madam. Here you are."
I looked up and realized he had led me to the ladies' room. I smiled. "Thank you, Mr. James."
"Will that be all you require, Madam?"
I thought for a moment. "Perhaps you could bring John here for me. I seem to have forgotten my pills in the car, and he has the keys."
Which, yes, was a lie, but I don't regret saying it.
"Yes, Madam."
He returned the way we had come as I went into the ladies' room. Once inside I leaned against the door and caught my breath. I had no idea why my heart was pounding so fast, but it could be I had just realized I had just met a very interesting person.
I slapped myself. Stop that! You're engaged to John!
Thinking of John, I began to ponder. Why was he so gung-ho about finding this Viennese 007? As far as I knew, John was an upper middle class businessman, not at all the type to be drawn into games of intrigue. I realized I did not really know John at all.
When he arrived, I still had not decided whether or not to tell him. A well-put question would solve my delimma, and I sturdied my strength and just flat out asked it.
"Why, John, are you so intent to find this man you are looking for?"
His beautiful eyes shone in surprise. "What, Kate?"
I shrugged. "I sat at a table at which you discussed many things I do not understand. I assume that is the only reason you allowed me to sit there. Because I could not understand it. But I really would like to know. Why does this man mean so much to you?"
He smiled warmly, but it did not entirely reach his eyes. In that moment I sensed something in John. Something dark and unpleasant. And knew I could never marry him, no matter what his answer. When it came, it was a lie as I had expected. "We wish to be benefactors, and having found him we can do that."
I smiled in return, but knew it was over. I did not want John to know I planned to ditch him. "You are such a good man." The words tasted muddy in my mouth, but I kept up pretenses. "Please, go back to the dinner party. I'll be with you in a moment. I've only forgotten my pills in the car."
He smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "Very well, darling. Don't worry about anything. You'll soon forget, anyway." He kissed me, and though his last statement left me in a state of anxiety, I did not pull away. Though he did not know it, that was to be our last kiss.
When I reached the front door, the "butler" opened it for me. "Do you require my assistance, Madam?"
I smiled softly at him. "I might. That depends."
His left eyebrow rose slightly, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him.
"I know things," I said. "I know who you are, but other things need answering. Why are they after you, and being that they are after you, why on earth are you hiding here?"
He frowned. "I knew I had said too much. What did I say that let you know?"
"It was not what you said, but how you said it. Though you hid it very well, I heard your accent. That," I smiled, "and most butlers do not talk to guests as much as you did."
The corners of his mouth turned up in a very becoming way. "I see."
"Now that we've agreed on the finer points, could you answer my questions?"
He did not need to be reminded what they were. "For years I have been... observing Mrs. Rochester and her business associates. They have, to say the least, been rather nefarious in their dealings, and I have reported this to my office. As this cannot of course put me in good standing with them, they have attempted to find me. Knowing this, I have put down trail after trail, each time leaving some explanation of how I could have discovered their schemes from another country. Thus, they never suspect I am, in fact, right here. Now, to you. How can I be of assistance?"
I turned my head slightly in the direction of the house. "I cannot marry John. But I cannot simply break it off. The consequences of that would be disastrous if I were to stay around. I cannot simply run, either, as you know as I know now what contacts John has at his disposal. So..."
He nodded in understanding, but instead asked something I did not expect. "Did you drink the cognac?"
After a pause, I said, "Only a sip. Why?"
He sighed. "It seems you do have a problem. Had you imbibed the glass, all that you have learned tonight would be forgotten by tomorrow. As it is... Perhaps you should have finished your glass."
"That explains the amnesiatic." I shook my head. "My world has turned completely upsidedown. I would happily drink that glass, but knowing what I saw in John... Even though I would not remember, who knows when he might show it again? I would much rather have your help now, and be sure."
"After you have gotten your pills, we will discuss it."
I smiled. "I have no pills."
Both his eyebrows rose, but he smiled. "I see. Clever of you. Very well. As far as I see it, the best hiding spot is right under their noses, as long as you leave several trails showing them you are elsewhere. Wait here a moment."
He closed the door and left me standing there. It was dark now, and I felt incredibly spooked. Finally he returned, with a large bag. I didn't ask what was in it, because he immediately said, "Give me your keys."
I did so, unhesitatingly. He went to our car and sat in the driver's seat. The darkness outside made it difficult for me to tell what he was doing, but soon he emerged. He opened the bag and began placing whatever was inside it across the passenger's seat, opening the glove compartment as well. When he had finished, he shut the car and walked back to me.
"Hurry," he said, pulling me inside. "We have five minutes."
Having only the slightest idea what was going on, I followed him through a secret servant's passage down into the house. Suddenly he stopped and motioned for me to be silent. He crept further down the passage, leaving me there.
Let me tell you, I was not comfortable with that at ALL! I began to worry about being encased in the walls for the rest of my life... however short that would be... but when I stopped listening to the loud beating of my heart, I realized I could hear faint voices to the other side of the wall.
"Please, everyone, take your seats," Mrs. Rochester spoke.
"Kate is not back from the car," John said.
"She can join us in a minute. You'll show her in, won't you, Charles?"
"Yes, Madam," I heard the man I knew as the Viennese Drake answer.
From there, I heard them begin on dinner. I began to wonder what was going on, when suddenly I heard what sounded like someone dropping a cabinet down a staircase.
Among the rest of the startled cries, I heard Mrs. Rochester exclaim, "My word, what was that?"
Throughout the confused and concerned babbling, I heard John asking where I was. I almost yelled out to him, but forced myself to remain quiet. I was sad to do this, but then I remembered that soulless expression he had had. I shuddered and kept silent.
"What happened?" Mrs. Rochester suddenly asked.
"An accident," the Drake said, causing all the anxious chatter to die down immediately.
"Oh God," John gasped. "Kate?"
I assume the Drake nodded solemnly, but I could of course not see it.
A loud uproar ensued, and then faded as everyone left the room and rushed outside to look at what I can only assume was the car aflame. After a few moments of utter silence, I jolted as the Drake whispered in my ear, "Follow me."
We continued down the passage, emerging into a small dusty room. "Pardon the mess," he muttered. "I chose to leave my room as it was and tend to my duties instead. Wait here. I'll return shortly."
A bit more comfortable than I had been in the passage, I waited. An hour went by, and I grew more tense by the second.
"So, what happened?" I asked immediately as the Drake returned.
"They believe you dead."
I paled, but nodded. It was the best way out of my predicament I could see.
"Your car, naturally, was incinerated in the explosion..." he tried to put this delicately, but it did not work. "As were you. They found your... well..."
"Charred remains?"
He blinked in surprise at my bluntness, but nodded.
I shrugged. What else did I expect? "Now what?"
"You begin your new life."
"Any chance I could do that as a 007 of my kind?"
He smiled, and I found myself grinning back. "You are, as I have said, clever. We'll talk to headquarters in the morning. Until then, you have to hide. No one ever comes up here, and so you will be fine."
I started to protest. After all, think about it!
He shook his head. "Mrs. Rochester will undoubtedly find many tasks for me to do tonight. I doubt I will get a chance to sleep anyway. You won't see me at all."
He left, and I sat on the bed, pondering. Life would hold all manner of surprises now. I grinned. Then again, who said that was a bad thing?
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