Shades of Grey
Chapter 48: The Guest House

JZASACH— NOVEMBER 1843

Farrah’s home was huge: a large, red gabled three-storey cottage surrounded by a high wrought iron fence and made of a red metal similar to the rest of the buildings in the city, glinting in the sunlight. The front yard was filled with exotic plants of colours and textures I had not even seen in my mediocre studies of botany in year three with Lord Frayar.

“What strange plants,” I marvelled, examining a large magenta blossom with sparkling gold flecked petals. I reached out to feel it but the plant sneezed before I could, startling me.

“Oh yes, my father loves to collect strange and exotic plants. Bit of a hobby of his. Oh don’t touch that one. That’s the Sneezing Siberian Daisy. As you can imagine, it’s not very popular because it’s allergic to most people,” Farrah laughed, pulling my arm towards the door. “Shall we go inside?”

“Don’t you dare leave me out here!” Forma shouted in my head, snorting in protest.

“Uh, may I first tie up my horse? I’m sure she’s very thirsty,” I said, gesturing to Forma.

“Oh, right! So silly of me, I’m sorry! Follow me to the stable!”

Farrah moved in front of me and led us behind the home where a quaint little house similar in design to the main house stood next to a large barn which did not match the architecture of the house at all or that of the rest of the city for that matter. With its red wood panelling and tar-shingled roof, it was an uplifting little drop of normalcy.

“The barn is sort of, not fitting, I know,” Farrah said in an apologetic voice as we entered the large doors and she opened one of the stalls for Forma. “But my mother fell in love with it and she convinced my father to keep it when we moved in. I hate it.”

“I like it,” I said, looking around.

“Me too,” Farrah said quickly. I laughed to myself. Girls are quite amusing when love struck.

“Will it do for you horse?” she asked.

“Oh yes, I believe this will do just fine,” I said, locking the gate and removing the bridle from Forma’s head. She gave me a frustrated look.

“If I have to be a horse for any longer than three days, I will kill you,” she threatened.

“If I have to be a man for any longer than three days, I will kill you!” I retorted in a similar tone. “You’re the one that wanted to stop and take the girls up on all their offers!”

“Well,” Farrah said, interrupting our telepathic argument. “Would you like to see where you’ll be staying?”

“Yes, absolutely,” I replied, following Farrah as she skipped out of the barn and trotted happily over to the small guest house. I shot Forma a haughty grin as she snorted in frustration.

“Voila!” she cried as she ran past the picket fence and threw open the front door. “Welcome to our humble guest house!”

The foyer was simple enough in construction: a staircase lay infront of me with the living room on my right and a simply furnished bedroom on the left. The walls had mahogany wainscoating with red wallpaper adorned with gold flowers that mirrored a golden carpet. The furniture looked comfortable and well-maintained: a very decent place for a drifter aiming to restock his supplies.

“It’s very nice!” I said in an honest voice.

“You hate it,” Farrah misinterpreted in disappointment. “That’s alright. I’ll get Ariella to rearrange everything to your liking.” She turned and called to the house. “Ari—”

I quickly grabbed her wrist and turned her towards me, my face floating inches away from hers. The two of us shifted in visible discomfort.

“Farrah, it’ll do fine. I should be gone within the week so personalization is not exactly a matter of terrible precedence.”

I released her hand and she relaxed considerably.

“Oh. Alright. Would you like to come in and meet my parents?” she added, as if suddenly recalling that she would have needed their consent for me to stay with them.

“Certainly,” I replied, following her once again into the main house.

“Father? Mother? Hello?” Farrah called as we entered the back door, which led us straight into the dining room. Immediately I was greeted by a very large St. Bernard who did not hesitate to leap onto me and begin to shower me in friendly slobber until Farrah addressed him authoritatively.

“No! Mamie, down!” Farrah skilfully pulled the dog off of me and shooed him away. “I’m so sorry!” she cried, trying to wipe away the large amounts of dog saliva left over on my cloak. “Come into the kitchen and I will fix it.”

Farrah took my hand and led me across the hall into the kitchen where an older, thin olive-skinned woman washing dishes suddenly looked up at me with hesitantly assiduous eyes. I was about to introduce myself when I noticed several large scars running from her right eyebrow to the opposite end of her jaw. I averted my eyes promptly, trying not to stare.

“Who is your friend, Miss Farrah?” she asked, motioning to me.

“Oh, Ariella, this is, oh I’m so sorry; I completely forgot to ask you your name!” Farrah cried dramatically.

“That’s alright. My name is...”

I hesitated for second as I tried to remember the name I had given to the two patrolmen. Keeping track of aliases was clearly a skill I would have to strengthen.

“...Jacob Keller,” I said promptly when it came to me.

Ariella seemed to have noticed my hesitation and she stared studiously at me while Farrah gave me a wet cloth to wipe away the saliva.

“Well Mr Keller, welcome to Jzasach,” she said with reluctantly hospitable sigh.

“Thank you,” I replied respectfully, my voice fading as I noticed something in the floor by Ariella’s feet — long scratches in the floor boards, sloppily covered with a floor rug. I looked up at the doorframe and ran my fingers over several other scratches, hastily covered with a thick layer of paint. In fact, the more I looked the more scratches and gashes I began to see in the furniture, all of which were either clumsily patched up or hidden with a painting or a rug.

“Forma, there are scratches all over the house, as though their dog went mad or something!” I relayed.

“Do they have a pet dog?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then why do you sound suspicious?”

“I don’t know, I suppose I’m just accustomed to things not being what they seem.”

“We may just make a Hunter of you yet, Grey,” Forma replied with a light chuckle.

“Mother? Father?” Farrah called, venturing over into the living room and finally up into the sitting room where a handsome middle aged woman sat at the opposite end of the room by the window carefully crocheting something. I looked more closely at her and noticed three very large, linear scars running across the right side of her face and extending to the base of her neck; similar to the ones I had seen on Ariella. I then turned to the moustachioed man sitting in an armchair reading a book of substantial thickness and gulped at how large he was compared to the young men I had seen outside: his sturdy, muscular arms and legs seeming to stretch across the entire length and breadth of the room. I studied his strong, masculine face with greater scrutiny and I noticed that he had no scars at all. I blinked once to halt my observatory gaze.

“Forma, the women seem to have scratches on them, but the men don’t.” I frowned as I tried to arrange possible explanations in my head.

“Farrah didn’t have any scratches, nor did any of the girls we first met up with.”

“So, only middle aged women, house walls and furnishings sustain scars while the men are all curiously absent and what few we see are unusually large?”

“Maybe the rest are so large, they can’t fit through doorways anymore,” Forma chuckled.

The dog, Mamie, sat loyally by the man’s feet, lifting its great head only to growl at me, the stranger whom it had greeted happily only moments before.

“Down Mamie,” the man commanded.

“Farrah, who is this?” asked the woman, setting her crochet work down and approaching me courteously. I gulped as I saw that her scars were deeper than I had thought. I did my best to focus on her clear green eyes instead.

“My name is Jacob Keller, madam,” I said, kissing her hand like a gentleman, on which I also noticed a fair amount of scars and scratches. “I am passing through Jzasach on my way to Romania and I needed a place to stay. Your daughter thoughtfully, but hastily, offered your guest house as apt lodgings.”

“His horse is also tied up in the barn, if that’s alright,” Farrah added.

“Sure it’s alright. We’ll have to have a discussion about advertising the house to passing travellers later, Farrah, but it’s perfectly alright if you stay,” remarked her father as he stood to shake my hand, the top of his head just barely grazing the eight foot high ceiling. “My name is Arthur Hallington and this is my wife, Elizabeth.”

Mrs Hallington curtseyed, looking like a doll next to her impossibly tall husband.

“Good to meet you,” I replied. Mamie then gave a perfectly timed bark. “And you too, Mamie.”

“Dim-witted dog,” Farrah said with forced nonchalance. “She’s always getting into trouble.”

“I can see that!” I said with a laugh. When I saw that the entire family was staring at me with wide, horror-struck eyes, I felt the need to clarify. “The scratches around the house...I assumed they were from Mamie...”

They all visibly relaxed.

“Oh yes! Such a foolish dog, always running wild!” cried Mrs Hallington.

“Yes, it was my fault for bringing home such a monster,” Mr Hallington added with a nervous laugh.

I pretended to smile and laugh with them, but I could tell that they were hiding something.

“So, Jacob, how long do you plan to stay in Jzasach?” asked Mr Hallington.

“Oh, not long. No more than a fortnight,” I said casually. I then noticed a collective stiffening of breath from all three Hallingtons.

“Or, less...” I ammended slowly.

“Well, Jzasach can get quite old after a day or two,” cried Mrs Hallington.

“Oh yes, such a boring little town!” Farrah chimed in.

“I’m sure,” I lied.

There was a pause as the Hallingtons worked to try and redirect my attentions.

“Shall we go and see what Ariella has made for dinner?” suggested Mrs Hallington.

“Excellent idea, darling!” piped up Mr Hallington.

“I’m starving!” Farrah added.

They all looked expectantly at me.

“Erm…I suppose I’m hungry as well…”

“Righto!” cheered the trio as they ushered me out of the basement and towards the dining room, Mamie leaping happily behind us the entire way.

“Ariella, what have you made for us tonight?” asked Mrs Hallington with overzealous cheerfulness as we all entered the dining room. Ariella seemed to notice the force in her words and spoke cautiously.

“I’ve made a steak soup with garlic bread, Mrs Hallington.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Mr Hallington cried, sitting down at the head of the table.

I took my place across from Farrah on the side of the table and waited patiently as Ariella served us dinner, inhaling the marvellous aroma.

“It smells wonderful, Ariella,” I said politely.

“Thank you, Mr Keller,” replied Ariella with a prideful smile.

“Ariella is the best cook this side of the city!” Farrah exclaimed proudly.

“Oh, Miss Farrah exaggerates,” Ariella countered bashfully.

“Don’t be modest, Ariella!” interjected Mrs Hallington. “Many of my friends have fought for Ariella’s employment, but she’s been with our family since Farrah was little, so she’s not going anywhere anytime soon!”

Ariella grinned once more before retiring to the kitchen. Farrah immediately grabbed her spoon and began to slurp down her soup.

“Farrah, remember your table manners!” chastised Mrs Hallington. “We do have a guest!”

Farrah timidly daubed her mouth with her napkin, embarrassment clearly written on her face.

“So, Jacob, what’s your trade?” asked Mr Hallington suddenly, pulling my attention away from the sloppy Farrah.

“Erm…” I stumbled as I struggled to swallow the bite of soup I had taken just before he had asked me the question. “I’m a carpenter’s apprentice.”

“Really?” Mr Hallington said proudly. “You know, I’m a bit of a carpenter myself!”

My stomach dropped. Of all the possible trades to practice, he had to be in the first field that came to my mind…

“Is that so?” I said awkwardly.

“Well, perhaps the two of you could tackle the leaky roof in the spare closet of the guest house!” Mrs Hallington suggested.

“Brilliant! What do you say, Jacob?” asked Mr Hallington with a firm, masculine grasp of my shoulder.

“Absolutely,” I lied again, choking under the steel-like grip of Mr Hallington.

As the others began to redirect the conversation, I wondered how much lying I would be doing during my time here.

Probably as much as it took to discover the truth. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

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