Chronicles of Mystery

The Delaways

 "Your shoes.... On the carpet !!" She hissed hoarsely.

The light finally enlightened the one who was just a house maid about to gut those who had left dirt on her carpet. She was a rather young woman, dressed simply in a black dress with a white collar and an apron of the same color, immaculate, with a kerchief on her head, endowed with the sensuality of a broomstick.

The girl was lean and angular, stern in appearance and seemed to demand that everything be above reproach. She had prominent veins and a pale face, like a white tapestry in which thin blue threads were intertwined. Her cheekbones were marked and her nose very straight, like a bust whose features had been carved deep into the stone. She wasn't very pretty with her big, thin, tight mouth, her little black squinted eyes with an unpleasant porcine air, and her rather greasy black hair, hidden under her headscarf and tied without grace in an impeccable bun.

She stared at the visitors as if they were woodlice infiltrating the house. She seemed to dream of smashing them on the ground to get rid of them and then be able to sweep them outside.

Terrified, Maude and Lucy complied and took away their shoes immediately. Alistair decided, once the threat passed, to move away from the ancestor and the possible sacrifice she was in case of an attack.

After all the shoes were taken off and put in a place where the impurities of the street they were wearing could not defile the interior of this house, they were allowed to enter the dwelling. They were however subjected to an advanced examination of their person, in order to check their state of cleanliness. under the watchful eye of the servant who looked at these strangers like they were bacteria about to infect her dear home.

When she was satisfied, they continued their tour of the place. They opened the door of the corridor and arrived in a welcoming dining room. The room was well-lit by two large windows whose transparent panes were probably due to the servant's fervor. In addition, on the ceiling, a lamp in the shape of a flower was splashing the walls and floor with its orange light, giving the room a warm fireplace color and unconsciously increasing the sense of well-being of visitors who felt as if they had entered a room drenched in sunlight, even in the days wet with rain where the outside was nothing more than a dense fog of billowing clouds.

The floor was paved with beige tiles that were cool underfoot and had welcomed the chilly little toes of the many children in the house. In the center of the room stood an oak table, solid, simple and robust, covered with a white lace tablecloth which contrasted with its delicacy. The table seemed to be encrusted with minute molecules of fragrant dust that had the scent of age and the flavor of old wood hardened by years of service. Below windows, there were wooden worktops, without the slightest dust, which the light of the sun came gently caressing with its rays.

Above the worktops were shelves, with round, sculpted handles, giving a soft feel to the hand, etched with long lines that seemed to be the wrinkles of valiant soldiers who guarded in the fort of their walls of wood the treasures entrusted to them by their masters.

Opposite was an old sideboard of the same material and as robust as the table, with a thousand cupboards with iron handles as well as a placemat laid on top, like a grandmother's bangs on her forehead. It was engraved with soft flowers, tattoos anchored in its flesh and touched a thousand times by innocent fingers which admired the outline. Its tanned skin was delicately varnished, lustrous, with that last luxury he had retained and which he showed to the guests, highlighted in the vibrant light of the room. He smiled cheerfully at the inhabitants of the house as he seemed to suggest a welcoming way to open one of his cupboards to venture into the staggering mass of secrets it could contain.

The walls of the room were covered with a pink wallpaper, the same color as the skin of a peach, reinforcing the softness of the place.

Around the table, four very different individuals. First, a young girl, blond as wheat, with hair like a swirling golden waterfall, illuminated by the light from the windows and who seemed made of the same matter as the rays of the sun. Her face was triangular, dotted with freckles. She had a very long, pointed nose and her tiny eyes were hazelnut in color, as well as two small brown coins enthroned in the middle of a vast white plain. She wept bitterly, shaken by continual sobs. She was making a whale-like sound, kicking her feet frantically under the table. She was dressed in modest but still elegant clothes, in a vague Victorian style that was obviously no longer the latest fashion but still tried to imitate it. Her outfit, mixing simplicity and pomp, consisted of a white blouse decorated with small decorations, with puffed sleeves that formed huge balloons before coming to tighten around her forearms. The collar of the blouse was high and surrounded by an elegantly pleated black ribbon. A thick sash was wrapped around her waist while a long skirt cascaded down to her feet. She appeared to be wearing an old-fashioned crinoline, turning her petticoat into a huge bell. The fabric of her skirt was sparsely devoid of any embellishment, humbly displaying its dark black color.