Fairydale a dark gothic.., p.5
Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance, page 5
"Miss Darcy O'Sullivan, I assume," she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave.
I force a smile.
"Pleased to meet you," I take a step forward, extending my hand to her.
Her smile is equally as strained as she reluctantly takes my hand in a half-hearted shake.
"She's not wet," she whispers, her gaze finding Mr. Vaughan.
"So she isn't," he replies tersely, and I get the sensation that there's a hidden meaning to their exchange.
I don't get to dwell on that, though, as I'm ushered inside the house and to a large living room. Another man and a girl I assume to be around my age are already there, almost as if they'd been waiting for us.
"Miss Darcy, this is August, and his sister Grace," Mr. Vaughan states in a bored tone as he motions towards the two.
"Welcome to Fairydale," the young man gives me a hesitant smile. He has black hair and dark blue eyes, both features quite similar to my own, and I can't help but wonder if it's something we both inherited from our father.
I have yet to see a picture of Leo Pierce, but I remember my mother and we'd looked nothing alike. She'd had strawberry blonde hair that had a reddish hue in the summer, and pale, gray eyes—entirely unlike my dark hair and deep blue eyes.
"Pleased to meet you," I shake August's hand before I try to do the same with Grace. She's around my height, her hair a dark brown while her eyes are a light green.
Her upper lip twitches as she meets my gaze, and releasing a loud huff, she turns, snubbing my salute.
"I expected something different," she adds dryly, barely looking at me. "Didn't you say she was a city girl? Then why is she so...boring?"
I blink, taken aback by her words.
I'm not the only one struck speechless by her rude comments, as her mother gasps, while Mr. Vaughan mumbles something about minding her manners.
"Well, I expected Fairydale to be more...happy. We don't always get what we want," I reply immediately, a little more sarcastic than intended.
I'm already in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers. I can't let them see me as weak or they will attempt to take advantage of me. Especially since a feeling of unease had settled in the pit of my stomach the moment we'd entered Fairydale.
Her eyes widen at my retort, and she looks about to give me one of her own, but whatever she sees behind me—likely in her mother's expression—makes her stop right as she's about to open her mouth.
I wonder if her dislike of me has anything to do with the will. No one would like it if they had to suddenly split their assets with a stranger. Based on the reception so far, no one seems too thrilled to see me, regardless of what Mr. Vaughan had told me before.
"Grace, you should apologize to Darcy," Mrs. Pierce lightly admonishes her daughter.
"It's fine," I intervene. "I know I'm not very fashionable," I add with a small smile. "I'm a teacher, not a billboard model."
To an extent, her comment has its merit since both my hair and clothes, unlike hers, don't follow the latest fashion. Her hair is cut short and fashioned in a Grace Kelly style whereas mine is long and plaited in a simple braid that goes down my back. Her clothes are richly patterned, while mine are a monotonous color. But that is because I've never had an incentive to follow modern fashion. I don't go out. I teach, and then I go back to my books. Why would I put in so much effort in a style that no one saw?
That doesn't mean I don't appreciate fashion. I just don't have the circumstances to allow myself to indulge in it.
Grace's mutinous expression hasn't subsided, and I have no doubt she doesn't want anything to do with me.
"You're so gracious, dear," Mrs. Pierce comes to my side, grasping my arm. A current of electricity courses through me—an uncomfortable pricking sensation that makes me wince.
Without even thinking, I wrench my arm out of her grasp.
"Sorry, I'm a little sweaty from the journey. If you could direct me to a shop so I can buy some clothes for my stay, that would be lovely."
"Miss Darcy had her luggage stolen at the train station and needs some new clothes," Mr. Vaughan explains.
"Nonsense," Mrs. Pierce interjects, her expression animated. "Grace can lend you some of hers, can't you dear? You two look to be the same size." Her tone is sweet, yet there's an unmistakable command to it as she gives Grace a hard look.
The girl hesitates before she nods.
I glance between the two of them, certain there are some unspoken cues I cannot understand because Grace seems entirely put off by that yet she's completely subservient to her mother's wishes.
"I'd rather buy new ones," I smile. Of course I am not comfortable borrowing anything from the girl shooting me daggers with her eyes.
"Don't worry about it, dear," Mrs. Pierce touches my arm again and it takes everything in me not to flinch. "You can buy new stuff later. For now, let Grace lend you some."
A little more back and forth and I realize she won't take no for an answer so I agree to borrow a few pieces until I can buy some.
"Why don't you go upstairs so Miss Darcy can change and then we can all have dinner together. I'm sure you're famished after such a long journey, aren't you dear?"
"Indeed," I muster a reply. Her exceedingly jovial tone is not only grating, but comes across as entirely artificial.
Following Grace upstairs, my eyes are drawn to the beauty of their home. The wealth is evident, from the size of the house, to the materials used and the furniture.
She pushes a door open on the third floor, reluctantly inviting me inside.
"Thank you," I murmur, though she doesn't reply.
Her room is enormous, and probably three times the size of the room I share with Allison at Saint Russell's. And she has it all to herself... I blink, taking in my surroundings and noting there's an ensuite bathroom as well as a sitting room right by the sleeping area. It's the type of bedroom I'd only seen in magazines, and seldom in movies.
As I gawk at the beauty that is her room, Grace goes to her closet, rummaging for a short while before removing a few pieces—two dresses, a matching set of a blouse and a pair of trousers and something to sleep in.
"That's too much," I protest. I won't take more than a day's worth of clothes since I plan to get my own as soon as I get to a store.
"If I don't give you proper options my mother will have my ass," she says in a deadpan voice, pushing the clothes towards me.
I nod slowly.
"You can go there to freshen up and change," she motions to the ensuite bathroom.
I give her my thanks and I head inside.
Taking my clothes off, I wash myself lightly before I put on one of the dresses Grace gave me—a floral white one with a cinched waist. The fit is fantastic, as is the soft material. I spend a couple of minutes simply watching myself in the wall-sized mirror and marveling at the way the dress flatters my body.
Depending on the allotment of the will, maybe I'll be able to buy myself some similar ones in the future.
My cheeks redden at the thought. As Allison rightly said, once I have the money I'll be able to do anything I want. The thought of that kind of financial freedom is the only thing spurring me further despite the unease I still feel at being here.
Already, I am quite disillusioned with my half-siblings as neither seems too thrilled about my presence. August had been more circumspect, but I could sense his hesitance too. Grace may have been rude, but she'd hinted at what everyone was thinking.
I'm not welcome.
Taking a deep breath, I go back to the room to find a scowling Grace tapping her foot impatiently.
"Took you long enough," she mumbles, her eyes skittering over my body before she's out of the door.
Pursing my lips, I follow her downstairs to the dining room where everyone is already seated.
It doesn't escape me to notice that Mr. Vaughan is sitting at the end of the table—where the head of the family should have been. And though Leo Pierce had died, shouldn't that role befall to August?
Odd. But then so is his interaction with Vicky Pierce, their body language too familiar for a simple employer-employee relationship.
Alas, it is not my business to speculate on their personal relationship. I'm here for the reading of the will after which I will return home.
Plastering a smile on my face, I take a seat at the table, right between August and Vicky Pierce.
It doesn't take long for two servants to bring the food, placing an appetizer in front of me.
"Tell us more about you, Darcy," Mrs. Pierce speaks first.
"There's nothing much to tell," I say as I give them a short summary of what I do and what my credentials are. I don't go into further detail than what is already on paper and they are undoubtedly familiar with.
"I must say. It was a shock to hear that my dear Leo had another child," she sighs.
"You mean that he cheated on you?" Grace brazenly asks.
"Grace!" Both August and Mrs. Pierce intoned at the same time.
"You know it wasn't like that. We were separated at the time, and he moved to Boston while I stayed here," she says as she wipes the corners of her mouth in a delicate manner. "I can't condemn him for finding someone else when we didn't think we were going to get back together."
Mrs. Pierce goes on to relate what had happened during that time, and as I glance around the table, no one seems to truly pay attention as she prattles on—almost as if this was a rehearsed speech prepared only for my sake.
"Please don't think I hold anything against you, Darcy. You're a part of Leo just like my August and Grace. And we're very happy to have you here," she reaches to touch my hand at the same time I pick up my glass of water.
"Thank you," I murmur, taking a sip and slowly leaning away from her.
I don't know what it is about her, but I've never had such an adverse reaction to someone before. She seems nice—if not a little fake—but she strikes me as a regular trophy wife, not an axe murderer.
"I have one question," I turn towards Mr. Vaughan. "What was the cause of death? Your letter didn't mention why he died."
Everyone is quiet, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing that echoes in the spacious room.
"A heart attack," Mrs. Pierce says at the same time as Mr. Vaugh responds with, "Brain damage."
More silence.
Glancing around, my eyes flutter in confusion.
From the corner of my eye, I spot August tightly holding on to the knife, almost bending the tip. Mrs. Pierce's lips are pressed into a tight line, while Mr. Vaughan narrows his eyes at me.
"It was both a heart attack and brain damage," he speaks slowly, almost as if he's imparting the information to everyone present. "He had a heart attack after which we tried to resuscitate. We got a pulse but he'd been too long without oxygen to his brain so he was declared brain dead."
Nodding slowly, I bring the glass to my lips, taking a sip of water as I covertly watch the four strangers around the table. In what I think is an unprecedented moment, their eyes are set on each other, their expressions naked, malice and greed dripping from them. As if I'd been dumped in a forest teeming with wolves fighting for dominance, for the first time I'm struck by a thought. Whatever the contents of the will, I'm not the only enemy in the house.
Almost as if recognizing the mounting tension at the table, Mrs. Pierce diffuses the situation by shifting the conversation to the late Leo Pierce and sharing some anecdotes of him.
Soon, the dinner is finished, and Mr. Vaughan lets me know that he will drive me to my house.
"My house?" I exclaim, taken aback.
"The key I sent you, Miss Darcy. It belongs to a property north of here that Leo owned. Vicky and I have prepared it for you since we didn't want you to feel uncomfortable living with strangers," he explains. "You'll have the privacy you need since the following days could prove to be rather demanding," he says as he details the upcoming schedule. Tomorrow is the funeral while the reading of the will would take place the day after tomorrow.
"Oh, thank you. That is very thoughtful of you," I thank both Mr. Vaughan and Mrs. Pierce. And after saying goodbye, I find myself once more in the back of the car as Mr. Vaughan drives towards the destination—12 Astor Place.
It's soon evident that by the northern part of the town, he meant at the other end.
We drive for close to ten minutes, and for a small town, that is a long distance.
Despite the darkening sky, the more we drive, the clearer the view of the famous Fairydale hill is, as is the view of the majestic Hale manor Mr. Vaughan had mentioned.
He hadn't been lying when he'd described the manor resembling a castle. Though built in a neoclassical style, its grandeur and sheer size make it qualify for the title.
Even from afar, its imposing built and the accompanying scenery make for a striking picture. As we approach further, sparks of excitement spread through my body, my belly tightening with anticipation.
Besides the tourist attractions in Boston, I haven't seen many historical buildings. I certainly haven't visited any in depth. But hopefully, before my sojourn here ends, I will be able to visit the grounds of the manor.
I'm so enraptured by the sight of the manor as night falls, that I barely register the car coming to a stop.
"We're here," Mr. Vaughan suddenly mentions.
Shaking myself back to the present, I slowly get out of the car. I take in my surroundings, goosebumps appearing all over my skin at the bleakness of the location. Hale manor might seem like the cradle of sophistication up on its lonely hill, but here it's anything but that.
There are only two buildings as far as I can see—12 Astor Place, and another building across the street. Other than that, a field stretches on both sides of the make-shift road.
It's not even paved.
Good Lord, but I'd been so focused on admiring the manor that I hadn't realized we'd left the more civilized area. This is right at the outskirts of the town.
"This is rather far from town, isn't it?" I ask hesitantly.
"Not at all." Mr. Vaughan comes by my side, his features stern. "The town is fifteen minutes of walking in that direction," he points towards the direction we'd come from. "That's the Hale manor, and there's a cliff that leads to the ocean."
I purse my lips in consternation.
"And that?"
I turn to point at the building on the other side of the road. Different in architecture, its sharp angles, pointed arches and stained glass suggests a gothic style.
"That's the Old Church. Don't worry about it. It's locked. No one uses it anymore, but no one wants to repurpose it either. It dates to the seventeenth century," he adds and I remember him telling me about it.
I nod absentmindedly, though inside, I can't help but be put off by the entire thing.
"Is there no other place in town I can sleep at for a couple nights?"
Though the house in front of me is lovely, the fact that I'm so far away from town and across the street from an old church that looks more creepy than beautiful despite its assuredly fascinating history doesn't make me look forward to my stay here. A shiver travels down my back the more I think of it.
The Hale manor doesn't look as close either, despite the optical illusion given by its location. And that situates me...in the middle of nowhere. In a foreign town. Surrounded by strangers.
No. Not a good idea. And I tell Mr. Vaughan exactly that.
"I can't possibly stay here alone."
"This is the house your father wanted you to have, Miss Darcy. It's not a coincidence that I gave you the key. It will be yours in a few days' time."
I blink, not expecting to hear that.
"Are you sure?"
He nods.
"I've been Leo's man of affairs for decades. He wanted you to have a place to stay here in Fairydale since it's your home, too."
He smiles then—a rehearsed smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze is on me, waiting for me to agree with him.
"Is there no hostel?" I rephrase, though the chances of a town this small having a hostel are slim at best.
Why can't he understand that the area is creepy? That I'm a single woman in the middle of a field. How could I possibly accept to stay here when I doubt there isn't even a telephone for miles?
Given the position of the house, I'm most certain a pastor must have lived here with his family in the past—when the Old Church was still operational. And I don't think I want to sleep in a house that...
"What are you so scared of, Miss Darcy?" He interrupts my thoughts, asking me in a gravelly voice—one that makes the hairs on my body stand up.
Instinctively, I take a step back as I hug my arms to my chest.
"I'll be alone," I grumble. "What if someone tries to break in? What if..."
He puts a hand up, interrupting me.
"So you're concerned about safety?"
I nod fervently.
"Come," he says in a tone bordering on exasperation as he tells me to give him the key. I do so and I watch as he opens the door, the floors immediately creaking under his weight.
I visibly wince at the sound. Saint Russell's may have been an older building, too, but at least there I'd been surrounded by people.
Flicking the light in the hallway, Mr. Vaughan beckons me inside.
The interior is more modern than the outside, but it's clear no one's lived in the house for years—maybe decades.
"Look," he points to the door and the many locks on the wall. "If you secure it, no one will be able to come inside. Besides, despite those nasty rumors about crime, Fairydale is a very peaceful town. Our residents have never been accused of anything. It's the outsiders that get in trouble with the law," he explains matter-of-factly, but there's a small twitch in his cheek as he regards me.
"I see," I reply softly.
What else can I say? That I will not, under any circumstance, sleep in this place? I could try, but everything about his countenance tells me he isn't amenable to arranging anything else for me. And that means it's either this place, or...nothing.
