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Chapter 1: How I Got Here

This was most definitely the biggest day of my life.

Everyone has one. That one thing that changes your life so deeply, you look at yourself as if for the first time. It might have been when you finally decided you didn't care what anyone thought of you in High School, and suddenly you were much happier and even more popular.

It might have been when you first saw the person you loved. That beautiful moment where you see them, they see you, and you know something clicked.

For me, I had had no clue it would happen. After all, nothing big had ever happened to me.

My name was Amy Hawthorn. I was a normal kid. Too normal. You know, like the kid in your history class that sat in the middle of the rows, did almost perfect on her work, had a few close friends, and would end up being part of an atomic family with two kids and a loving husband. The girl that everyone kind of wants to be, because she doesn't seem to have any problems. Sure her life was dull, but it was simple. Easy. Right.

It wasn't until grade eleven that it happened. I had been going through the back country to my cottage, all by myself for the first time. I had my license for less then six months, and I still had a curfew. So I started out around two, and I was supposed to get to the cottage by five. That left me about two hours until I would get into any trouble for driving. Safe, right?

Well, it seems it wasn't, or else I wouldn't be stuck in a smoking car that wouldn't move. I didn't know what was wrong with it. I made a mental note to read a car instruction manual later. I would've called CAA, but my cell phone was in my room, in my house. My father had a thing about nothing technical in the wilderness. Although he brought his waffle maker with him. I think it was just a way of making me have to have 'family time' instead of writing on the computer.

That's what I do. Write. When I have a story, I can only think about it. That used to get me in trouble at school. My teachers would ask me about Pythagoras's Theorem, and I'd start saying a monologue about why life in the Victorian age wasn't fair. I made sure to stop spacing out in class that much after that.

It wasn't late, probably about quarter to four. I had gone on this road countless times as a kid, but I didn't remember ever seeing a house or building of any kind. I was up the creek without a paddle. Or cell phone, which would be a lot more helpful then a paddle. Oh dear, I'm babbling. Another thing about me, I babble when I get nervous, or excited. It can be pretty embarrassing, especially when boys would be involved.

I like boys. They really are awesome. I can talk with them, joke with them, and argue with them. About half of my friends are guys.

It's flirting that I have the problem with. I've never really openly flirted with a guy. I had seen others – mainly my friend Madison – flirt so furiously, it was like they were hypnotizing guys. I had always been the boy's friend. The one they go to when they had any girl related problems. I was their 'buddy'. Never their girl. After all, that would be too weird.

A loud mechanical 'pop' brought me out of my thoughts. Right, almost dead car. Could there be a fire in it? Didn't cars blow up when there was fire. . .

“Oh crap!” I yelled and rushed out the door, leaving my bag and booking it. I was halfway up the next hill before I stopped and listened. I couldn't hear anymore popping, but I definitely wasn't going back now.

So, where was I supposed to go? I could try to go to my cottage, but without the GPS, I probably would get lost. My sense of direction was . . . improvable, to say the least. I could walk forward to try and go to the nearest town. There must be someone out here, right?

Yes, the plan was forming. All I needed was a phone, after all. I'll walk until I find something, anything. It wasn't a very complex plan, really.
*
I'm going to move to the prairies. I promised myself an hour later. I'm going to the prairies, where there are . . . no. . . . Hills.

My head felt a bit numb. I missed my car. I was supposed to be at the cottage 45 minutes ago. Wouldn't my parents come looking for me? I was going their way, we would have to cross paths soon, right?

The next hill, I kept telling myself, I'll see them over the next hill. It became my mantra.

I didn't see them.

Instead, I saw – about twenty minutes later – a pathway. It had probably been a driveway at one point, but not now. Vines and branches covered the old paved road. Trees and shrubs engulfed the entrance, so only someone close and going by slowly would be able to tell the difference between it and the other woods.

I walked over the threshold of the small road. It seemed to twist like a snake, around trees and rocks. I tripped over roots and branches that littered the ground. I was a natural klutz, a danger to everyone and everything around me.

The path stopped suddenly at a last twist. I rounded the corner and had to gasp.

If I had asked for a phone, I had definitely gotten one. The home was at least three stories tall. It was desperately old, but not quite in disrepair. It had vines all over the walls, but it was artistic; beautiful. The front door had a platform type of stairs, like semicircles stacked one on top of the other. Large columns ran up on either side of the huge wooden doors. There were large plates of glass – you couldn't call them windows, too big – all over the three stories, but they all had the same burgundy curtains drawn.

It looked surreal. A different era. I looked down. No, still in jeans and a polo. There was a closed garage too, so I probably hadn't gone time traveling.

This wasn't the sort of place you'd knock on to use the phone. This looked scary. The old man's house that the rumors were made about when you were a kid. I shivered, but that was also caused by the cool breeze from the onset of evening. And this would probably be the only building I would see before nightfall.

So yes, I was scared. I'd never been a girl guide for this exact reason. With them, not only did you have to knock on stranger's doors, but you had to make them buy cookies from you! My imagine would always go wild, scenarios of stalkers and monsters making me run from anything to do with door to door sales. And here I was, going to ask someone to let me into their beautiful and expensive home to use the phone.

I stepped up to the door hesitantly – to say the least. I was expecting dogs, bulls, security, something. I had no clue what rich people used nowadays.

There was an old fashioned knocker on the door. I lifted it slowly – the hinges were very rusted. The weight dropped back on the door with a loud metallic noise. I knocked a few times and stood back on the front step, waiting.

I was about to turn around. The Wizard of Oz played in my mind, the part where the cowardly lion tried to make a getaway before seeing the Wizard. There was no noise. Silence. Then, as if responding to my cowardliness, the door slowly slid open. The hinges – unlike the knocker – opened the door silently.

Inside, it looked like a palace. I had been wrong about the number of stories. There were only two. The first had a huge ceiling and in my immediate view was a huge staircase, made of what looked like marble. The second floor was far up, and looked to have been divided into two wings.

I stepped into the house, amazed by the room. There were huge tapestries hung on the walls, and carpet on the floor. It was like I had just been pushed into a beautiful fairytale.

The door shut behind me with a loud 'thud'. I whirled around quickly, scared by the noise.

“Welcome, to Gracey Manor, Miss.” I heard a chirpy voice say from behind me. I shrieked and turned quickly.

Their in front of me – I swear, she hadn't been there a second ago – was a small girl in a maid's uniform. Her dark brown hair was in two neat braids. She was about a foot shorter then me, but with her excellent posture, she looked taller then she was. She was very pretty, her face angular in all the right ways. Her eyes were soft dark brown, just a tone lighter then her hair. She looked around twelve, maybe older.

“I'm begging your pardon for frightening you, Miss. My master said to come as quickly as possible to assist you. There's a storm coming soon, he says, so we should all buckle down. I can show you to one of our guest rooms, where you can wait for the master to finish his writings. He's a very busy man, the master.” The girl shook her head thoughtfully. Master? Who would ask to be called Master? Maybe he was one of those old megalomaniac billionaires that spent the rest of their days bossing their staff around.

“It's uh, alright. I just need to use the phone to call my parents. It's very nice of you, but I'm going to my cottage and I don't need-”

The young girl interrupted, “No no, the master wants to talk with you. He's been expecting someone for a while. We've been overdue for a visitor for a long time now. What the master wants, I get for him. That's my job Miss, and I must do as I am asked.” I could hear a great loyalty to the man she served. I could tell I wouldn't get out of this easily.

“Fine, I guess. Thank you very much. It's very kind of the uh, master.” The maid nodded and started for the stairs quickly. I hurried after her.

“I'm Amy, by the way. Amy Hawthorn.” I said as we climbed the stairs.

“I'm pleased to meet you Miss. Hawthorn. You may call me Pauline, if it so pleases you. I'm very glad to make your acquaintance.” Pauline stated.

I stared at her for a second or two before I answered, “Uh yeah, you too.” Who says that? She sounded as old as the house.

We walked along a long and well decorated hallway. There was actually a suit of armor! It looked almost alive, and pretty creepy. Pauline led me to my room. I thanked her as she ran to talk to her 'master'.

My room, like the rest of the house, was beautiful. The bed was huge, full of pillows and blankets. There was a large stone fireplace in the corner, with a divan in front of it. All along one wall were bookshelves, full of big leather bound books. The whole room looked like something out of one of my stories.

I lay down on the bed. It was unbelievably comfortable. Maybe it was made of feathers. Or clouds. Whatever it was, I liked it.

Pauline came back a few minute later. She curtsied low, and I tried to too, but I didn't quite get it.

“The master would like to have a word with you, if that is alright with you, Miss. Hawthorn.” I nodded and walked out into the hallway with her. Down the stairs and to our right, we walked from corridor to corridor until we got to a set of dark wooden double doors.

Pauline knocked once and walked in, me trailing behind.

“Master, Miss. Hawthorn is here to see you.” She called out. I saw a large desk in front of a tall chair. There was a bright fire behind them, so if someone was sitting in the chair – I thought I could pick out a slight silhouette – I wouldn't be able to see anything except the shadow.

“Thank you Pauline, you may go.” I heard a low and slightly gruff voice order. Pauline curtsied and turned, closing the door behind her.

There was a silence for a long moment. I shuffled from one foot to the other. The 'master' was – as far as I could see – sitting back in his chair, totally at ease.

“Well, since you called me, do you have something you'd like to talk to me about?” I asked a bit too sharp.

The man rose from his chair, and I felt my heart stutter.

He walked near the fireplace, and I got a good look at him. His hair fell over his eyes and ears in casual disarray, a wonderful light brown. His eyes were the exact color I always though hazel was supposed to be. Exactly the right amount of brown in the center, with just the right shade of jade green on the outer parts, where the two colors met making a beautiful pattern. His features were angled, like Pauline's. His jaw, chiseled. Nose, straight. Lips, just full enough. I couldn't remember anyone so attractive. I could feel my throat constrict slightly. There was something about him . . . something so familiar, but so alien.

He smiled warmly at me, his gorgeous eyes lit up. He wore a high collared dress shirt with a black suit jacket and slacks. He looked exactly like a gentleman.

“Of course, Miss. Hawthorn. I wanted to know how you came to find my home.” His voice was like silk, it felt like it almost touched my skin, making me shiver slightly.

“I um,” I coughed, trying to get the nervous out of my throat, “I was going to my cottage and my car broke down. I walked for almost two hours when I saw your driveway and I thought you might have a phone that I could use to tell my parents I was okay and so I could find a way out of here. Not that your home isn't nice. It's beautiful, actually. But you know, my dad can get panicky if he doesn't know where I am exactly, and I would never want to impose on you so. . . I'm babbling, so I'm going to shut up now.” I closed my mouth with an audible snap.

The man chuckled, a very nice sound, “I see. Or, I think I do,” I laughed with him, “I'm being ungracious though. My name is Oliver Gracey. I own this house. It's nice to meet you.” He gave me a low bow, which brought him even closer to me. I nodded my head to him awkwardly too.

“But now, I can't permit you go right now. There's a storm soon approaching. It's supposed to be the biggest one this year. I must insist you stay the night, at least for my sanity. I could never let something like that happen to a young lady such as you.”

It was like the perfect gentleman of my books was right here, talking to me. My heart stuttered again. He was so . . . so . . . sweet! I let out a soft sigh.

“That would be . . . amazing, Oliver. Thank you. But do you have a phone I could use?”

Oliver shook his head, “One of the perils of the country, I suppose. We don't have any phone lines around here. I'm sure your parents will be alright without you. I can make sure to send someone to them after the storm, if you wish.”

“I uh, wish for that greatly, Oliver. Thank you again.” I smiled as genuinely as possible. I could see Oliver's eyes soften. There was something in them. . . something searching for something in mine.

“Yes, well, it's the right thing to do. Are you able to get from here to your room?” He asked. I almost forgot to answer; his voice was so soothing, so nice. . .

“Um, not really.” I blushed.

“No worries, Miss. Hawthorn. I can show you there right now. I'm about to retire myself.” Oliver got up and walked next to me. He opened the door for me, then took my arm in his, leading me down the hallway. His coat was made of stiff material that felt very fuzzy. It felt oddly cold though, as if it had been stuck in a refrigerator or something.

“Is the room to your liking?” Oliver asked me as we walked.

“Yes, it's very nice. I've never had a fireplace in my room before.”

“Ah, then you have definitely been deprived. I'll send Pauline with some food later. Nothing better then roast chicken and corn after dark, eh?” He asked.

“Um, definitely. That's very kind of you, sir.” We walked for a few more minutes before I recognized the hallway that led to my room.

“Ah, here we are. I hope you have pleasant dreams, Miss. Hawthorn. Good night.”

“You too, Oliver.” I called as he walked away silently.

I walked into my room and collapsed onto the bed. Could these people really be real? The way they spoke, the way they moved, it was surreal. And that man, Oliver. He was . . . gorgeous. Polite, formal, handsome . . . if I took anything from this experience, it was him.

A knock on my door brought me out of my daydreaming. Pauline came in with something blue tucked in her arms.

“I brought you a nightdress, Miss. Hawthorn. I hope it's to your liking.” she curtsied and left the room, putting the clothes on the bed. I got up slowly to get my pajamas.

It was like a very ill fitting dress. It was made for all sizes, I guessed. It was sky blue and very silky, running like water under my fingers. The dress went down to my knees. There was embroidery on the very top, and it had a square cut at the top. The sleeves went down to my wrists, and had elastic around the end, which made the sleeves ruffle out at the very bottom.

I put my jeans and shirt on top of the dresser by the bed. I crept into the soft bed – under the mountain of blankets – and drifted slowly into unconsciousness.
*
There will never be a day in my life that I wake up to the smell of bacon and scrambled eggs and it is bad. It is not physically possible. There is something about slowly waking up to something so mouthwatering that just stops you from feeling bad. Maybe something chemical in your brain. No matter what, bacon and eggs were exactly what I needed today.

That was exactly what I woke up to, right on my lap as soon as I woke up. I couldn't help but smile at the perfectly done eggs and crispy bacon. I was about to dig in when I saw a slight movement above me.

I looked up and shrieked. Just a short yelp, really. There was a butler in my room, standing stalk still.

He was exactly what butlers were supposed to be. Older, but not decrepit. He had a face that showed he had once been a very handsome young man. His eyes were such a light blue, they were almost white. He wore a suit with long coat tails and even had a small chain attached to a big pocket watch. He was someone you immediately trusted with everything. He was loyal to the core. But there was definitely a darker side to him. You could see it in the lines of his face and the age in his eyes.

“Hello, Madam. My name is Nathaniel. I am head of the household here at Gracey manor. I'm very sorry to have not been here to see upon your arrival. I trust that you have been treated justly?” His eyebrows quirked up slightly when he asked her.

“Yes, the maid was very nice, thank you. You can call me Amy, if you'd rather. Amy Hawthorn.” Nathaniel bowed low to the ground, like a butler should.

“Well then Miss. Amy, I came to tell you that your stay may be . . . extended for a while. The storm has caused a large amount of damage to the surrounding woods. The road has far too much debris to be safe to go near. We've sent some messengers to the town for some food and such, but the master has urged that you stay until the roads have at least been cleared. We can contact your parents soon, once the messengers return.”

“That. . . I guess, yes. Tell Oliver that I'm very very appreciative of his hospitality. It's amazingly nice of him to do this for me.” I said through a mouthful of food.

“I will Miss. Amy. Is there anything else you require?” He asked.

“Oh no, thank you.” I answered automatically.

“All right. Good bye, Miss. Amy.” He bowed to me and left, closing the door behind him. I continued eating until I couldn't even think of food – there had been way too much to start with.

Pauline came in to clean, then left. I stayed in bed for about an hour, just resting. Not asleep, not awake. Just . . . drowsy.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” I heard someone exclaim, shocked. I looked up from the bed and saw Oliver at my doorway – Pauline must have forgotten to close the door when she had left.

“It's fine, it's fine. I was going to get up in a few minutes anyways.” I murmured as I got up. I heard Oliver gasp quietly. I looked down. I was proper, everything covered. . .

Except that the nightdress was pretty see through. I hadn't noticed last night due to the lack of light. I blushed and sat back down on the bed, the blanket around me again.

“I'll uh, wait downstairs. Come down when you're ah, ready.” Oliver muttered. His hands were running through his hair rapidly. He looked pretty funny like that.

“Okay.” I agreed as he walked out and shut my door.

If someone asked me where I'd want to be trapped right at this exact moment, I'd say here. Right here, in the house, with these people. Nowhere seemed more appealing then staying here and learning about these people. Oliver, Nathaniel, Oliver, Pauline, Oliver. . .

I got dressed quickly in the clothes from yesterday – everything washed and folded. I closed the door behind me and made my way down to what I hoped was the dining room.

The place was huge. Everything had an elegant and very old look. It wasn't dusty though. Perfectly clean. Then again, who knew how many maids Oliver had?

I turned to the left and went down a wide hallway. There were suits of armor on each side, looming in on me. I had the prickling feeling on the back of my neck from when someone watches you. I sped up my pace. This had to be the armory with everything in here. Not only armor farther into the hall. There were swords, clubs, shields, everything you could possibly want or need metal. I kept looking back behind me, nervous. They're not alive. I kept telling myself. They can't hurt you.

I finally got to the end of the armory. I could hear some voices from the corridor to my left, so I turned there.

I faced the old oak - at least I think it was oak - double doors with as much courage that I could muster. There really wasn’t anything to be frightened of. Oliver was the perfect gentleman, Pauline was friendly, and Nathaniel got things done. Yet, I had a wary sense that I was missing something crucial.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts and walked in with my head held high.

Description
Chapter 1: How I Got Here

This was most definitely the biggest day of my life.

Everyone has one. That one thing that changes your life so deeply, you look at yourself as if for the first time. It might have been when you finally decided you didn't care what anyone thought of you in High School, and suddenly you were much happier and even more popular.

It might have been when you first saw the person you loved. That beautiful moment where you see them, they see you, and you know something clicked.

For me, I had had no clue it would happen. After all, nothing big had ever happened to me.

My name was Amy Hawthorn. I was a normal kid. Too normal. You know, like the kid in your history class that sat in the middle of the rows, did almost perfect on her work, had a few close friends, and would end up being part of an atomic family with two kids and a loving husband. The girl that everyone kind of wants to be, because she doesn't seem to have any problems. Sure her life was dull, but it was simple. Easy. Right.

It wasn't until grade eleven that it happened. I had been going through the back country to my cottage, all by myself for the first time. I had my license for less then six months, and I still had a curfew. So I started out around two, and I was supposed to get to the cottage by five. That left me about two hours until I would get into any trouble for driving. Safe, right?

Well, it seems it wasn't, or else I wouldn't be stuck in a smoking car that wouldn't move. I didn't know what was wrong with it. I made a mental note to read a car instruction manual later. I would've called CAA, but my cell phone was in my room, in my house. My father had a thing about nothing technical in the wilderness. Although he brought his waffle maker with him. I think it was just a way of making me have to have 'family time' instead of writing on the computer.

That's what I do. Write. When I have a story, I can only think about it. That used to get me in trouble at school. My teachers would ask me about Pythagoras's Theorem, and I'd start saying a monologue about why life in the Victorian age wasn't fair. I made sure to stop spacing out in class that much after that.

It wasn't late, probably about quarter to four. I had gone on this road countless times as a kid, but I didn't remember ever seeing a house or building of any kind. I was up the creek without a paddle. Or cell phone, which would be a lot more helpful then a paddle. Oh dear, I'm babbling. Another thing about me, I babble when I get nervous, or excited. It can be pretty embarrassing, especially when boys would be involved.

I like boys. They really are awesome. I can talk with them, joke with them, and argue with them. About half of my friends are guys.

It's flirting that I have the problem with. I've never really openly flirted with a guy. I had seen others – mainly my friend Madison – flirt so furiously, it was like they were hypnotizing guys. I had always been the boy's friend. The one they go to when they had any girl related problems. I was their 'buddy'. Never their girl. After all, that would be too weird.

A loud mechanical 'pop' brought me out of my thoughts. Right, almost dead car. Could there be a fire in it? Didn't cars blow up when there was fire. . .

“Oh crap!” I yelled and rushed out the door, leaving my bag and booking it. I was halfway up the next hill before I stopped and listened. I couldn't hear anymore popping, but I definitely wasn't going back now.

So, where was I supposed to go? I could try to go to my cottage, but without the GPS, I probably would get lost. My sense of direction was . . . improvable, to say the least. I could walk forward to try and go to the nearest town. There must be someone out here, right?

Yes, the plan was forming. All I needed was a phone, after all. I'll walk until I find something, anything. It wasn't a very complex plan, really.
*
I'm going to move to the prairies. I promised myself an hour later. I'm going to the prairies, where there are . . . no. . . . Hills.

My head felt a bit numb. I missed my car. I was supposed to be at the cottage 45 minutes ago. Wouldn't my parents come looking for me? I was going their way, we would have to cross paths soon, right?

The next hill, I kept telling myself, I'll see them over the next hill. It became my mantra.

I didn't see them.

Instead, I saw – about twenty minutes later – a pathway. It had probably been a driveway at one point, but not now. Vines and branches covered the old paved road. Trees and shrubs engulfed the entrance, so only someone close and going by slowly would be able to tell the difference between it and the other woods.

I walked over the threshold of the small road. It seemed to twist like a snake, around trees and rocks. I tripped over roots and branches that littered the ground. I was a natural klutz, a danger to everyone and everything around me.

The path stopped suddenly at a last twist. I rounded the corner and had to gasp.

If I had asked for a phone, I had definitely gotten one. The home was at least three stories tall. It was desperately old, but not quite in disrepair. It had vines all over the walls, but it was artistic; beautiful. The front door had a platform type of stairs, like semicircles stacked one on top of the other. Large columns ran up on either side of the huge wooden doors. There were large plates of glass – you couldn't call them windows, too big – all over the three stories, but they all had the same burgundy curtains drawn.

It looked surreal. A different era. I looked down. No, still in jeans and a polo. There was a closed garage too, so I probably hadn't gone time traveling.

This wasn't the sort of place you'd knock on to use the phone. This looked scary. The old man's house that the rumors were made about when you were a kid. I shivered, but that was also caused by the cool breeze from the onset of evening. And this would probably be the only building I would see before nightfall.

So yes, I was scared. I'd never been a girl guide for this exact reason. With them, not only did you have to knock on stranger's doors, but you had to make them buy cookies from you! My imagine would always go wild, scenarios of stalkers and monsters making me run from anything to do with door to door sales. And here I was, going to ask someone to let me into their beautiful and expensive home to use the phone.

I stepped up to the door hesitantly – to say the least. I was expecting dogs, bulls, security, something. I had no clue what rich people used nowadays.

There was an old fashioned knocker on the door. I lifted it slowly – the hinges were very rusted. The weight dropped back on the door with a loud metallic noise. I knocked a few times and stood back on the front step, waiting.

I was about to turn around. The Wizard of Oz played in my mind, the part where the cowardly lion tried to make a getaway before seeing the Wizard. There was no noise. Silence. Then, as if responding to my cowardliness, the door slowly slid open. The hinges – unlike the knocker – opened the door silently.

Inside, it looked like a palace. I had been wrong about the number of stories. There were only two. The first had a huge ceiling and in my immediate view was a huge staircase, made of what looked like marble. The second floor was far up, and looked to have been divided into two wings.

I stepped into the house, amazed by the room. There were huge tapestries hung on the walls, and carpet on the floor. It was like I had just been pushed into a beautiful fairytale.

The door shut behind me with a loud 'thud'. I whirled around quickly, scared by the noise.

“Welcome, to Gracey Manor, Miss.” I heard a chirpy voice say from behind me. I shrieked and turned quickly.

Their in front of me – I swear, she hadn't been there a second ago – was a small girl in a maid's uniform. Her dark brown hair was in two neat braids. She was about a foot shorter then me, but with her excellent posture, she looked taller then she was. She was very pretty, her face angular in all the right ways. Her eyes were soft dark brown, just a tone lighter then her hair. She looked around twelve, maybe older.

“I'm begging your pardon for frightening you, Miss. My master said to come as quickly as possible to assist you. There's a storm coming soon, he says, so we should all buckle down. I can show you to one of our guest rooms, where you can wait for the master to finish his writings. He's a very busy man, the master.” The girl shook her head thoughtfully. Master? Who would ask to be called Master? Maybe he was one of those old megalomaniac billionaires that spent the rest of their days bossing their staff around.

“It's uh, alright. I just need to use the phone to call my parents. It's very nice of you, but I'm going to my cottage and I don't need-”

The young girl interrupted, “No no, the master wants to talk with you. He's been expecting someone for a while. We've been overdue for a visitor for a long time now. What the master wants, I get for him. That's my job Miss, and I must do as I am asked.” I could hear a great loyalty to the man she served. I could tell I wouldn't get out of this easily.

“Fine, I guess. Thank you very much. It's very kind of the uh, master.” The maid nodded and started for the stairs quickly. I hurried after her.

“I'm Amy, by the way. Amy Hawthorn.” I said as we climbed the stairs.

“I'm pleased to meet you Miss. Hawthorn. You may call me Pauline, if it so pleases you. I'm very glad to make your acquaintance.” Pauline stated.

I stared at her for a second or two before I answered, “Uh yeah, you too.” Who says that? She sounded as old as the house.

We walked along a long and well decorated hallway. There was actually a suit of armor! It looked almost alive, and pretty creepy. Pauline led me to my room. I thanked her as she ran to talk to her 'master'.

My room, like the rest of the house, was beautiful. The bed was huge, full of pillows and blankets. There was a large stone fireplace in the corner, with a divan in front of it. All along one wall were bookshelves, full of big leather bound books. The whole room looked like something out of one of my stories.

I lay down on the bed. It was unbelievably comfortable. Maybe it was made of feathers. Or clouds. Whatever it was, I liked it.

Pauline came back a few minute later. She curtsied low, and I tried to too, but I didn't quite get it.

“The master would like to have a word with you, if that is alright with you, Miss. Hawthorn.” I nodded and walked out into the hallway with her. Down the stairs and to our right, we walked from corridor to corridor until we got to a set of dark wooden double doors.

Pauline knocked once and walked in, me trailing behind.

“Master, Miss. Hawthorn is here to see you.” She called out. I saw a large desk in front of a tall chair. There was a bright fire behind them, so if someone was sitting in the chair – I thought I could pick out a slight silhouette – I wouldn't be able to see anything except the shadow.

“Thank you Pauline, you may go.” I heard a low and slightly gruff voice order. Pauline curtsied and turned, closing the door behind her.

There was a silence for a long moment. I shuffled from one foot to the other. The 'master' was – as far as I could see – sitting back in his chair, totally at ease.

“Well, since you called me, do you have something you'd like to talk to me about?” I asked a bit too sharp.

The man rose from his chair, and I felt my heart stutter.

He walked near the fireplace, and I got a good look at him. His hair fell over his eyes and ears in casual disarray, a wonderful light brown. His eyes were the exact color I always though hazel was supposed to be. Exactly the right amount of brown in the center, with just the right shade of jade green on the outer parts, where the two colors met making a beautiful pattern. His features were angled, like Pauline's. His jaw, chiseled. Nose, straight. Lips, just full enough. I couldn't remember anyone so attractive. I could feel my throat constrict slightly. There was something about him . . . something so familiar, but so alien.

He smiled warmly at me, his gorgeous eyes lit up. He wore a high collared dress shirt with a black suit jacket and slacks. He looked exactly like a gentleman.

“Of course, Miss. Hawthorn. I wanted to know how you came to find my home.” His voice was like silk, it felt like it almost touched my skin, making me shiver slightly.

“I um,” I coughed, trying to get the nervous out of my throat, “I was going to my cottage and my car broke down. I walked for almost two hours when I saw your driveway and I thought you might have a phone that I could use to tell my parents I was okay and so I could find a way out of here. Not that your home isn't nice. It's beautiful, actually. But you know, my dad can get panicky if he doesn't know where I am exactly, and I would never want to impose on you so. . . I'm babbling, so I'm going to shut up now.” I closed my mouth with an audible snap.

The man chuckled, a very nice sound, “I see. Or, I think I do,” I laughed with him, “I'm being ungracious though. My name is Oliver Gracey. I own this house. It's nice to meet you.” He gave me a low bow, which brought him even closer to me. I nodded my head to him awkwardly too.

“But now, I can't permit you go right now. There's a storm soon approaching. It's supposed to be the biggest one this year. I must insist you stay the night, at least for my sanity. I could never let something like that happen to a young lady such as you.”

It was like the perfect gentleman of my books was right here, talking to me. My heart stuttered again. He was so . . . so . . . sweet! I let out a soft sigh.

“That would be . . . amazing, Oliver. Thank you. But do you have a phone I could use?”

Oliver shook his head, “One of the perils of the country, I suppose. We don't have any phone lines around here. I'm sure your parents will be alright without you. I can make sure to send someone to them after the storm, if you wish.”

“I uh, wish for that greatly, Oliver. Thank you again.” I smiled as genuinely as possible. I could see Oliver's eyes soften. There was something in them. . . something searching for something in mine.

“Yes, well, it's the right thing to do. Are you able to get from here to your room?” He asked. I almost forgot to answer; his voice was so soothing, so nice. . .

“Um, not really.” I blushed.

“No worries, Miss. Hawthorn. I can show you there right now. I'm about to retire myself.” Oliver got up and walked next to me. He opened the door for me, then took my arm in his, leading me down the hallway. His coat was made of stiff material that felt very fuzzy. It felt oddly cold though, as if it had been stuck in a refrigerator or something.

“Is the room to your liking?” Oliver asked me as we walked.

“Yes, it's very nice. I've never had a fireplace in my room before.”

“Ah, then you have definitely been deprived. I'll send Pauline with some food later. Nothing better then roast chicken and corn after dark, eh?” He asked.

“Um, definitely. That's very kind of you, sir.” We walked for a few more minutes before I recognized the hallway that led to my room.

“Ah, here we are. I hope you have pleasant dreams, Miss. Hawthorn. Good night.”

“You too, Oliver.” I called as he walked away silently.

I walked into my room and collapsed onto the bed. Could these people really be real? The way they spoke, the way they moved, it was surreal. And that man, Oliver. He was . . . gorgeous. Polite, formal, handsome . . . if I took anything from this experience, it was him.

A knock on my door brought me out of my daydreaming. Pauline came in with something blue tucked in her arms.

“I brought you a nightdress, Miss. Hawthorn. I hope it's to your liking.” she curtsied and left the room, putting the clothes on the bed. I got up slowly to get my pajamas.

It was like a very ill fitting dress. It was made for all sizes, I guessed. It was sky blue and very silky, running like water under my fingers. The dress went down to my knees. There was embroidery on the very top, and it had a square cut at the top. The sleeves went down to my wrists, and had elastic around the end, which made the sleeves ruffle out at the very bottom.

I put my jeans and shirt on top of the dresser by the bed. I crept into the soft bed – under the mountain of blankets – and drifted slowly into unconsciousness.
*
There will never be a day in my life that I wake up to the smell of bacon and scrambled eggs and it is bad. It is not physically possible. There is something about slowly waking up to something so mouthwatering that just stops you from feeling bad. Maybe something chemical in your brain. No matter what, bacon and eggs were exactly what I needed today.

That was exactly what I woke up to, right on my lap as soon as I woke up. I couldn't help but smile at the perfectly done eggs and crispy bacon. I was about to dig in when I saw a slight movement above me.

I looked up and shrieked. Just a short yelp, really. There was a butler in my room, standing stalk still.

He was exactly what butlers were supposed to be. Older, but not decrepit. He had a face that showed he had once been a very handsome young man. His eyes were such a light blue, they were almost white. He wore a suit with long coat tails and even had a small chain attached to a big pocket watch. He was someone you immediately trusted with everything. He was loyal to the core. But there was definitely a darker side to him. You could see it in the lines of his face and the age in his eyes.

“Hello, Madam. My name is Nathaniel. I am head of the household here at Gracey manor. I'm very sorry to have not been here to see upon your arrival. I trust that you have been treated justly?” His eyebrows quirked up slightly when he asked her.

“Yes, the maid was very nice, thank you. You can call me Amy, if you'd rather. Amy Hawthorn.” Nathaniel bowed low to the ground, like a butler should.

“Well then Miss. Amy, I came to tell you that your stay may be . . . extended for a while. The storm has caused a large amount of damage to the surrounding woods. The road has far too much debris to be safe to go near. We've sent some messengers to the town for some food and such, but the master has urged that you stay until the roads have at least been cleared. We can contact your parents soon, once the messengers return.”

“That. . . I guess, yes. Tell Oliver that I'm very very appreciative of his hospitality. It's amazingly nice of him to do this for me.” I said through a mouthful of food.

“I will Miss. Amy. Is there anything else you require?” He asked.

“Oh no, thank you.” I answered automatically.

“All right. Good bye, Miss. Amy.” He bowed to me and left, closing the door behind him. I continued eating until I couldn't even think of food – there had been way too much to start with.

Pauline came in to clean, then left. I stayed in bed for about an hour, just resting. Not asleep, not awake. Just . . . drowsy.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” I heard someone exclaim, shocked. I looked up from the bed and saw Oliver at my doorway – Pauline must have forgotten to close the door when she had left.

“It's fine, it's fine. I was going to get up in a few minutes anyways.” I murmured as I got up. I heard Oliver gasp quietly. I looked down. I was proper, everything covered. . .

Except that the nightdress was pretty see through. I hadn't noticed last night due to the lack of light. I blushed and sat back down on the bed, the blanket around me again.

“I'll uh, wait downstairs. Come down when you're ah, ready.” Oliver muttered. His hands were running through his hair rapidly. He looked pretty funny like that.

“Okay.” I agreed as he walked out and shut my door.

If someone asked me where I'd want to be trapped right at this exact moment, I'd say here. Right here, in the house, with these people. Nowhere seemed more appealing then staying here and learning about these people. Oliver, Nathaniel, Oliver, Pauline, Oliver. . .

I got dressed quickly in the clothes from yesterday – everything washed and folded. I closed the door behind me and made my way down to what I hoped was the dining room.

The place was huge. Everything had an elegant and very old look. It wasn't dusty though. Perfectly clean. Then again, who knew how many maids Oliver had?

I turned to the left and went down a wide hallway. There were suits of armor on each side, looming in on me. I had the prickling feeling on the back of my neck from when someone watches you. I sped up my pace. This had to be the armory with everything in here. Not only armor farther into the hall. There were swords, clubs, shields, everything you could possibly want or need metal. I kept looking back behind me, nervous. They're not alive. I kept telling myself. They can't hurt you.

I finally got to the end of the armory. I could hear some voices from the corridor to my left, so I turned there.

I faced the old oak - at least I think it was oak - double doors with as much courage that I could muster. There really wasn’t anything to be frightened of. Oliver was the perfect gentleman, Pauline was friendly, and Nathaniel got things done. Yet, I had a wary sense that I was missing something crucial.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts and walked in with my head held high.