The last thing Lorelei had expected was for a letter from her father to arrive for her to return back home to Rousier. But when a letter arrives to her in England, from him she's compelled to go back to her home, and face a nightmare that had been s...
"I am so glad you've come home child," Andreas crooned into her ear with his low voice. She rested against his coat, noting the smell was still the same. Ink, pipe tobacco, and pine. "Come let's get you inside," he drew back, his dark eyes gazing into hers, "You must be tired and hungry," he said, then took her bag into his hand.
Anselm cleared his throat and stepped forward, "I can take her bags for her, Master," he offered reaching out to take her things.
Lorelei looked at him and shook her head, "Oh no, it's alright, it's not too much, but thank you, Anselm," she said to him kindly.
He gave her crooked smile back, "If you insist Miss," he nodded, "Master, I am retiring for the evening," he let him know. This made Lorelei look up and realize that the sun was already setting, just barely visible between the trees.
Feeling her father's hand on her shoulder, he started to guide her up the steps and pushed the doors open, leading her inside, "I'm so glad to have you home darling," he said.
She had returned his smile then looked at the house she had grown up in, no longer feeling the chill from outside, but the warmth of the inside. No matter the weather, or season, the manor always managed to be warm enough in the evenings, so long as the fireplaces were lit. Lorelei remembered falling asleep under thick heavy blankets, as the heat of the fireplace in her bedroom spread, until the fire died out, that come morning, she was reluctant to get out of bed. Especially in the winters.
The young woman looked around and smiled to herself it still looked the same as ever, with the red carpet and decorations and trims, and the soft armchair to match the red and burgundy of the walls and carpets. The spiraling staircase and the beautiful crystal chandelier hanging above
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She could still remember her mother sitting in the chair, working on her embroidery or her knitting, whilst Lorelei would play on the rug.
"Go on upstairs and freshen up dear, your room is still the same one, and is exactly as I left it," Andreas beamed at her, "Albeit the dust and cleaning I'd have the maids do there," he let her know, "I shall send Clara to fetch you for dinner. We shall talk about everything."
Lorelei smiled at him, nodding gently, "Yes, thank you papa," she said softly, before going up to the staircase, and ascending further up to the next floor.
As she did so she noticed how even all the walls still looked the same; shades of red and burgundy, with gold, yellow and brown trim patterns and accents. It was always earthy tones of color, which always gave it a warmer look inside, contrasting to the cold appearance of how it looked outside.
She started to walk down the hallway past the doors leading to rooms she vaguely recalled were the bedrooms, the washrooms, the library and study, and finally found the door of her old bedroom.
Holding her breath she pushed the rich brown door open, and gazed at her old bedroom, nostalgically. It really did still look the same - from the walls, to the mantel above the fireplace, her bed, the sheets and draperies, the small divan by the window, where she would sit, and read by, her old writing desk, and the chiffarobe, the dresser closet, and drawers. Right down to the carpet on her floor.
