The young woman’s gray eyes slowly scanned Cleo from the tip of her head to just below her knees. Finally her eyes came to rest once again on Cleo’s face. There was no hint of a smile on her face. “Enter,” she said. “Darren will be with you soon.” Cleo stepped into the house and the young woman in Victorian dress closed the door behind her.
Cleo had a sudden thought just as the young woman began to walk towards a doorway leading into some other room in the house. Unwilling to let the thought pass, Cleo asked her, “How do you know who I am. I mean, you didn’t ask my name. And what is your name, please.”
The young woman stopped, then slowly turned around, her lips forming words but manifesting neither disapproval nor a smile. “You are as Darren described. You are the only one expected tonight. You must be Cleo.” So saying, she turned about and took one step towards the room she intended to enter, then stopped. Without looking back she said to Cleo, “My name is Susan. Darren will appear here soon. Sit down if you’d like.” Susan pointed to a high backed chair near one of the wood paneled walls of the entryway and then walked to the entrance of a room on the right side of the hallway leading beyond the entry.
Frowning still, and wondering about Susan, Cleo took that moment to study what parts of the house she could see from her vantagepoint. The entryway as she noted earlier extended into a hallway that ran 10 meters into the center of the house, terminating at the foot of a two-meter wide crimson carpeted stairway that rose upwards between solid wood handrails and then terminated at the base of the upper story. From the top of the stairway, a walkway extended left and right to what must be more rooms, perhaps bedrooms, upstairs. An elaborately carved wooden banister bordered the upper walkway about waist high compared to a woman of average height like Cleo.
Downstairs, the hallway leading to the stairway was bordered on the left by what appeared to be a double-doored entrance to a room, followed by a single door entrance to the next room. On the right side, she could see the same grouping of doors. Symmetry, she commented to herself silently. Symmetry is so important to a house of this kind, and it certainly could be found here. She imagined herself in a Victorian dress, entertaining guests, managing her husband’s home, and romance. Just like the mystery books she read as a youth. This house even had dark wood paneled walls, just like the mansions in these stories, and elaborate antique chandeliers hanging from the very high ceiling, no single electric lamp of which was illuminated. In fact, where was the light coming from?
Dull brass wall sconces and upright candelabra sparsely placed in the entry and hallway were filled with tall candles, their wicks lit and burning softly, fueled by their yellowish wax. This left the area barely touched with light, but not so dark as to make it impossible to see. Very easy on the eyes, she noted as her vision became adjusted to the perpetual dusk. Cleo continued to examine what she could see of the area, its carvings, tapestries and small portraits of very pale-faced people in clothes from long ago. So intent was Cleo on her surroundings that she failed to notice his appearance, nor did she see from where he arrived. It was his distinctive voice that snapped her out of her preoccupation with the house and captured her attention immediately.
“Hello, Cleo,” welcomed Darren. “I’m so glad you could be here tonight.”
Cleo quickly rose from her chair, purposefully walked to Darren, and placed an affectionate kiss on his unexpectedly cool cheek.
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