Rust

It was the year 1675 in one of the wettest mountains in the land. The skies were mostly grey, with a pallid sun, trembling in the cold sky in certain places at certain times. The days were cold, the nights colder and there was no time when the teeth did not chatter as the north wind blew against the mountain.
A black carriage carted by a pair of yet a shade darker steeds drove into an ominous gate, which stood darker still. The wind howled and blew away the aureate autumn leaves, whose edges had closed upon themselves; like an infant cuddling against its mother, and which lay near the drumming hooves of the horses.
It clamorously announced its arrival, with its heavy rolling wheels, grinding against the grey and cold cobbled pathway in the mordant silence and stopped before a flight of stairs that led up to a prodigious, heavy wooden door that stared dauntingly down at the new arrival. The horse nickered and rose violently.
The carriage shook a little and was still again, appositely concealing itself in the shroud of silence and dreariness that seemed to veil everything in the vista.
“Oh whisht now! Hush it!” the coachman huffed, tightening the reigns around the horses but the beasts refused to heed.
“Confound it!” the little man fumbled, “What’s gotten into you?” he whipped them.
The beasts subsided.
The carriage door opened and Ursula stepped out, a little color upon her cheek, she looked about with sad green eyes and took in the grey panorama.
“Could you hold Eric for a moment, sir?” she asked the coachman, gently placing the small infant, from her arms into the coachman’s.
“What a beautiful boy!” The coachman said, grinning with his crooked teeth, “Must take after you, ma’am,”
Ursula blushed, “No, no, he is not my…child,” she said, “he is my brother,”
The coachman bit his tongue, “Pardon me, miss,” he said, “I myself thought that you were too young to be his mother,” he ruffled his hair and then placed the infant back into Ursula’s arms, once she’d dismounted the carriage, “But it seemed only probable….forgive me,”
Ursula smiled softly, as she smoothed the child’s brow, “Please don’t apologize,” she said, “you are not at fault.”
The coachman grinned nervously, somewhere a gong resounded.
“I must leave now miss,” he said, “I must deliver beaten rice from the mills. Good-day!” The man touched the hem of his hat and was gone.
“Good-day,” Ursula smiled with a lot of effort.
Once the carriage had departed and Ursula was standing alone on the vast cobbled floor, which stretched far into the distance and joined a garden that stretched farther still, among alabaster statues of Greek Gods and fountains that shot water to great heights, her smile faded. She looked around and found herself alone, with the huge mansion door still looking down upon her. Tears threatened to fall off her eyes, but she stopped them, taking heavy breathes, she calmed herself down.
She tried to carry her trunk by herself, but with the infant in her arms, it was impossible to do so. She struggled to hold them both, tucking the child safely in the crevice of one folded arm, and holding the heavy trunk from the other, but her frail body could not carry the weight. She looked around in dismay, hoping to find some sign of help, but all in vain. Suddenly her eyes drifted to the thousand windows of the huge mansion, and for a moment, that seemed to last forever, her eyes clashed against a man’s, who was solemnly looking down at her. Ursula stood there petrified and could not bring herself to avert her gaze, when suddenly, like a dream, the face disappeared from the window.
Slightly discomfited and strangely embarrassed, she felt blood rise to her cheeks. The heavy mansion doors opened slowly, grating loudly, as they turned on their thick hinges. Ursula looked up and found an old man, well built for his age and of a stringent, stoic face, descend the stairs with two tall, broad youths following after him. Reaching the pavement at the foot of the stairs, they threw tight smiles at Ursula who recoiled at their strange marauder like aura and mumbled a soft good morning in her thin broken voice.
“A very good morning, mei senorita,” said the old man, raising Ursula’s hand to his lips and pecking it ever so softly, she could barely feel his touch, “I hope the journey was not very inconvenient.”
“Oh, no, sir,” she hesitantly smiled, “I barely noticed the ride,”
“Well,” the old man resumed with an air of disappointment, “that won’t do at all, mei belle. A county like Whistling Mounds must not remain unnoticed, it is meant for eyes to see and admire,”
“It’s quite unfortunate then,” Ursula said, her voice mellowing, “that I must visit the place in such dull humor, I ever have had a liking for beauty, but I fear that today I lack appreciation for it.”
“The child, miss?” One of the retainers’ asked, “May I carry the child?”
Ursula looked at the small infant, cradled against her arms, barely breathing and sighed heavily, “Oh no,” she said, holding the boy closer, “I shall not be parted from him, not today, even for a second, no. I thank you.”
“Will this be all miss?” The other boy asked, a strange kindness upon his face, as he effortlessly picked the trunk.
“Yes,” Ursula said, trying to smile, but failed miserably. She turned her eyes away from the men and looked towards the old man, who looked right at her, and for an instant, fleeting though it was, Ursula had the strange desire to empty out her heart to him, to cry upon his shoulder and tell him all of her miseries, but she only turned her eyes to the ground and wiped her tears off her face.
“If you shall follow me, Miss,” said the old man, turning towards the stairs, as the two youths took the lead, “I shall show you to your rooms right away.”
Ursula followed after the old man, her black gown fluttering behind her, sweeping the stairs that led up to the doors.
“You must pardon me, miss,” the old man said, stopping, so that Ursula could catch up, “for not introducing myself to you. I am, at least to the world, Alejandro Dominguez but to you I must be nothing but Daniel,” He then stopped abruptly and peered into Ursula’s face.
“Yes,” he mumbled as he resumed walking, “you do have your father’s eyes, he was such a handsome boy, your father! I dare say, your brother….Eric was it? Yes, Eric, will take after him. And a happy thing it is too,”
“You knew him?” Highly piqued, Ursula asked.
“Oh yes, yes, I did,” he mumbled and was lost in deep reverie till they entered the mansion and Ursula could not help but commend it’s splendor.
Her first step inside, found her in a hall, so large, so lavish, with rich amber curtains, so magnificent in their beauty that they appeared to have been made in gold, she almost forgot herself. A million candles fluttered in a grand chandelier that hung from a high, high ceiling, richly carved and ornamented. Murals of war were painted on alcoves, animal skins adorned the walls, a proud reflection of their owner’s skill, large pictures hung in golden and silver frames, a black, sleek pianoforte stood proudly towards one corner and oh the furnishings! Such chesterfields and lounges, settees and chairs and cabinets and oh the beautiful chintz! The deep red carpet, even the dado was luxuriously carved.
The room was aesthetical yes, but its magic was soon lost on Ursula, for the room was so dull. It was so dark, so unwelcoming, so forlorn, that Ursula could not bear the sight of it, being reminded of the recent tragedy that had befallen her, and begged Alejandro to take her to her room.
“I would have stayed, Daniel,” she pleaded, “and recommended it’s beauty, but I do fell faint. I beseech you, therefore, bid me my room.”
“Of course,” Alejandro replied, slightly disappointed, and turned towards yet another set of stairs, arising from the right corner of the hall.
“You are placed in the right wing of the mansion, Miss Burns,” he said as , “I hope that suits you?”
Ursula broke from her reverie and nodded, “Daniel,” she said as they began their way up, “If you do not mind me asking, do I stay here under your guardianship?”
Alejandro was fairly surprised at her question, he laughed aloud and began, “My guardianship! Oh, no, no, I have nothing of the sort to offer, and even if I did, I’d have no one to offer it to.”
“Oh,” Ursula murmured.
“But in case you’re wondering who your benefactor is,” Alejandro continued, “why, it’s my master himself.”
“Your master?” Ursula asked, smoothing her brother’s blanket, she touched his forehead and her heart almost stopped when she found him cold as death.
“Aye, my master,” not noticing Ursula’s preoccupation with her brother, Alejandro continued, “He knew your father, and knew him quite well.”
“Oh thank heavens!” Ursula exclaimed aloud when her brother opened his eyes into hers.
“Sorry?” Alejandro stopped, turning back to look at Ursula.
“Pardon me,” Ursula blushed, “It’s just that Eric has not been keeping well, ever since…ever since my parents passed away. I’m always worrying after him,” saying so she tugged the soft blanket under the infant’s chin, and ran her thumb through his pale face. The little infant moved his small arms and softly catching her fingers, began to suck at them.
“The poor puss,” Ursula smiled, “He is hungry now. Could you send some milk up to our room Daniel?”
“Right away miss,” Alejandro said with some reluctance, “Right away…”
The room Ursula had was quite dreary, dark curtains hung from a tall window, and that was the sole source of natural lighting in the room. Three candles threw a dull light around the room, and dark teak cabinets lined the walls. A large square mirror, with a richly carved frame hung from the right wall, and gleamed in the candle light. There was a small table and a velvet sofa set, next to which stood a large bed, lined with thick cushions.
The entire mansion, it appeared to Ursula, lacked life. She simply could not understand how anybody could live in a mansion such as this, it was so…uncongenial.
Her trunks were resting solemnly in a corner, and the two retainers were waiting outside the room. Ursula turned to them with a smile and said, “I wonder if you could draw the curtains?”
The two men looked at each other, but did not budge from their place. Ursula wondered if they had not heard her and began again, but was stopped by Alejandro, “Mon belle,” he said, glaring at the two servants, “your arrival was so sudden, that the windows are still not dusted, besides the room offers no view, let’s not open these panes.”
Ursula found the argument to be very much ill contrived, whatever reasons they had for not opening the windows however, she let them keep it to themselves and entered the room.
“I wonder, Daniel,” she said hesitantly, “If a cradle could be arranged for little Eric here?”
“Of course,” Alejandro said, looking strangely irked, “We still need to think for the child…Is there anything else you’ll be needing Miss Burns?”
“Some water, Daniel, that shall be all.” Ursula nervously said, feeling a little too much obligated towards the old man, “Please,” she continued in a soft, broken voice, placing the infant upon the bed, “Thank your master for all the kindness he has shown me, I am most wretched, most ill-mannered to trouble you all so, had I the power, I would free you all from this bond towards me. I am most grateful to you all, most, most indebted.”
One of the servants seemed moved by her speech and was beginning to say something, but stopped himself, “We shall take your leave then, Miss,” he helplessly uttered. Ursula smiled and closed the door after them, once they had left. She sat down on the couch as tears flooded her eyes and hours of misery exuded out through her soft sobs. So much had happened in a day, her parents were no more, and lay inside their cold graves. Her house was taken from her, her parents’ land abducted, her mother’s assets auctioned off ; come the next full moon, she was to marry Richard Sway, the town’s richest merchant, but with her lineage thus shamed under loans, which Ursula knew nothing of, Richard had broken all his ties with her, for fear that he should be accountable for Ursula’s family loans.
Ursula knew he had regretted it, she knew that Richard loved her truly and had hated to see her thus hurt, but he was a man of money, and Ursula’s gentle spirit did not grudge him his decision. And when all hopes had thus left Ursula and she knew not where to turn to, there drove into town a large, black carriage, with a messenger who informed Ursula of a distant benefactor, a man called Arthur Colt, who was to be her guardian, lest any misfortune such as this should befall her. In minutes, Ursula was seated within the carriage and had begun her long journey to the whistling mounds, a large county towards the colder North.
Ursula’s sobs subsided and she looked at her reflection in the mirror; how frail she looked, how weak. Her eyes were red and swollen from all her crying, her dark black hair fell untidily about her, her black gown was crushed and crumbled from the journey, her face was pale and tired. She rose on her thin legs and walked to the mirror, adjusted her hair and her gown and gently stepped out of the room, to look for Daniel. Eric had still not had anything since the previous morning, the child had been strangely quiet and had not cried even once through the journey, but had slept soundly in her arms. Ursula feared that some sickness had befallen him, ever since their parents’ death, the child had been strangely quiet and sullen. He had been sleeping right next to his mother, when she passed away in her sleep.
She stepped out to a moderately wide wooden corridor that would have served as the common hall for a normal house, opposite to her room was a wide alcove, enclosing a white pianoforte, a line of framed canvases adorned the hallway which turned and must have ended at yet another room, at the other end, just before the second set of staircase and diagonal to Ursula’s own room was another door, Ursula walked towards this, peeked inside and beheld the most lovely sitting room; the windows were slightly ajar, thin cotton drapes danced in the wind, the room was so simple and yet it pleased Ursula the most. Towards one dark, secluded, corner of the room, which was hidden from view by a book rack Ursula thought she saw some movement, and quickly exited the room. Once outside, Ursula could hear feet clambering up the stairs and voices murmuring to each other,
“What good will milk do?” Someone was saying.
“Get him milk,” someone else said, “Get him a cradle…I say let’s poison the little monster.”
Then there was laughter, daggers poking her heart, Ursula quickly turned towards her room, but it was too late, the two maids who had been talking had already seen her overhearing their talks. Exchanging glances, their smiles quickly faded and they hurriedly followed after Ursula, who bit her lips hard to stop herself from crying. She was not pitying herself, no, it simply hurt her to be at the mercy of others, even if she wanted to, she had no authority to talk back to the maids.
Ursula observed them as they went about their business, dusting her room, cleaning the windows, the mirrors, adjusting the bed. They were easily two of the most gorgeous women that Ursula had ever seen; they had lean, tall frames, their hips swayed gently as they moved, they had red lips, beautifully defined faces, deep blue eyes and silky golden hair that fell about their small shoulders and blushing cheeks. They talked to each other, and giggled as they glanced at Ursula who shifted nervously on her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Ursula suddenly said, “but the milk and the cradle for the child?”
“Oh, don’t worry Miss,” one of them haughtily said, “the cradle will be here soon, it cannot fly now, can it?”
“And the milk,” the other giggled, “The milk is not what your child needs.”
“He,” Ursula said, blushing deeply, “is my brother…”
“Oh,” the woman replied, biting her tongue and laughing boisterously, “I’m sorry.”
“But,” Ursula continued, “He must have some milk…he is barely a few weeks old.”
“Tut-tut!” the other woman said, slapping her companion on her shoulder, “Don’t tease her…What she means is that the child cannot have anything but his mother’s milk…We must take him to a woman, who has recently delivered, only she can feed him for a month or two, that is, if she agrees to sell her…milk. I hope you understand what I’m saying.”
Ursula’s face fell and she meekly nodded. ‘But can nothing be done?’ she was beginning to ask but bit her lip and remained quiet. If anyone was going to give ear to her troubles, it was not these two. How helpless she felt in this strange world, everything seemed upside down and she could merely be a witness, without the power to change things. Again, she felt sorrow take over her and she muffled an urge to scream out at the world.
Anyone would have been stirred to see her thus, how young she was, how weak she looked, and how she struggled to uphold her trembling body. But it didn’t matter anymore, Ursula told herself, she didn’t need anyone to take care of her, she would do something, she would take care of her brother and herself, she didn’t need anybody to help her.


This would be the first time that a human would be staying within the mansion, that is, a human other than Alejandro, who smelled nothing like a human at all. Then there were Beatrix and Gloria, the mansion’s blood slaves, rescued by Philippe himself from a brothel and kept by him as his price; also, there were Diane and Lauren, the County’s favorite wenches who had taken a strange liking to Philippe’s brother, Caesar, and had thrown themselves at his feet and begged him to take their blood, but they came to the mansion only at night and left before daybreak, so Philippe had never really lusted for them.
And how could he forget…Sophia, that sweet, fair, beautiful maiden; his master’s very own possession, ‘his pearl’. Oh, how he had wanted her blood, ever since his master had returned from the Far East with this beauty hanging on to his arm. But he dare not show his desire, for he knew, that if he gave the slightest signs of like towards Sophia, his master would see him dead. Sophia had been the only girl in the past hundred years that his master had drank of. He never took blood directly from a human, he would drink human blood, of course, but always which was served to him by Alejandro himself.
But Sophia had changed that, she was his master’s bosom lover, and so it seemed, from the way he cherished her.
And now Ursula had come, how timid she appeared, how sweet, as though all the life and grace in the world was bestowed in her bosom. Her every move was a delight to Philippe; Philippe, who had seen girls far more beautiful than she was, who had made love to the most beauteous of angels around the world, was captivated by the girl’s pureness. The way she innocently smiled, fluttered the thing which was closest to his now dead heart. She seemed so timid, so weak, as though she would break with the slightest of touch, but she seemed so dauntless of the world, that Philippe could not help but admire her. How childlike she was, how ignorant, Philippe could read all her movements, he could tell that she thought that as long as she had trust in herself the world could change. How naïve, she was, something in her demeanor made Philippe want to look after her, though it was not love, no, that emotion had been clawed right out of him centuries ago, but it was closest to affection.
Whatever convictions Ursula had in her mind, whatever actions she wished to execute, Philippe decided, he would back her with them, he would stay in the shadows and be her secret guardian.
“It’s almost a girl’s fantasy come true,” Philippe chuckled as he crushed a rose, “…A secret admirer, a powerful guardian…I wonder how she’d react.” he thought, as Alejandro called for him.
“Master’s Colt asked for you,” Alejandro said, “He’s in the right wing, in the living room.”
“The one next to Miss Burns’ quarters?” Philippe asked, fairly surprised.
Alejandro nodded, “Hurry up please…don’t tarry.”
“Relax, I say, my dear man!” Philippe laughed, turning on his heels, “Your Master shall not be happy to know, you’ve been playing wife!”
Alejandro shook his head in helplessness, Sir Philippe had been the one to train him in service of Master Colt. To anyone it might appear farcical, but Alejandro still respected him like a pupil did his teacher. After all, Sir Philippe was a hundred years older than he was. To the world it appeared that Sir Philippe and Sir Caesar worked under Alejandro, but it was quite opposite actually.
When Philippe reached the living room, his master was seated in one of the couches, just at the edge of sunlight, and was preoccupied by his finger, that was burning in its heat.
“The girls,” His Master began, barely looking up, “are not familiar with serving people. They cannot adjust with the…new arrival.” Saying so, he rose and walked towards Philippe, he was much taller than his servant was, and towered over him. “See that the human is no bother.”
“Of course, master,” Philippe said with a smile, “The girl is my responsibility.”
His master eyed him speculatively then continued, “Get the child to me…We shall see what can be done to save him.”
“Also Philippe…” his master undecidedly said, “See that the girl…the human…eats.”
‘So her chasteness has touched this stone too …’ Philippe smiled as he thought to himself, ‘my, my…had it not been for Sophie, I would have had a rival.’