The Nightam Family

Chapter 7: Mortimer Nightam 2

On the top floor of the Nightam Mansion, there is a large hall that has not been used for years. Back in the day, this area had been used for parties, but when the Nightam family started excluding itself from the outside world, these parties grew more and more scarce. After a few years, it had been decided on to turn the room into a storage hall. So up until this day, all kinds of miscellaneous items could be found here. Statues of previous heads of the Nightam family could be found here, banished by the next head. Books that would make any museum proud. Furniture, unused for years, covered in cobwebs. A few years ago, the children had still played in this room. Hide and seek. Treasure hunts. There was no fear of breaking anything; it wouldn’t be used anyway.

However, Mortimer had found a book in this room, several years ago. It was during his last attempt to clean this room and to see what was here. There were millions hidden in antiquities, art from the great masters of the renaissance and later. It was the secret stash of money, should the Nightam family ever lose its massive financial assets. So it was quite unlikely that this room would ever be cleaned.

None of the art or the many antiquities interested Mortimer though. There was only one item of interest to him in this room; an ancient book describing a hidden community. He had found it by accident and at first thought it was a fictional story. However, James Nightam, the founder of the family, had added his notes to the book. A few old letters, describing the wars he had fought in, the land he had gained by honour of the king, and proof of the community described in the book. James Nightam had allegedly fought alongside of members of this community and described their habits and, more importantly, how to contact this community in his letters. Mortimer hadn’t let that chance pass by and decided to contact the community. He had found the proof that they existed.

And now again, he was standing in front of one of the large windows the hall had. Only on one side, only overlooking the Nightam’s territory. The area where his descendants and Anna lived.

‘You’re not an evil man,’ an old woman’s voice came from behind him. Mortimer didn’t need to turn around to know who was speaking to him.

‘Perhaps I am,’ he answered. A woman, nearly sixty, walked up to him and watched the other members of the family walk around below.

‘I know you well, uncle,’ Anna spoke softly, ‘you were never evil.’

Anna, Mortimer’s niece. The only thing he had left from his brother. And for a long time, she’d been the only one whom Mortimer considered an equal. As always, Anna wore a loose dress. She hadn’t lost a single bit of her beauty. A modest, pure beauty, much like her mother. Mortimer would never admit it to anyone, but he had envied his younger brother when he first met his brother’s wife.

And as always, Anna had a hand resting loosely on her belly.

‘I’m sure you have the best in mind for our family.’

Mortimer looked at her, standing next to him, and then back down.

His sons had done well so far. Jules had created a company that made medicine. A smart move, although it was a matter of time until the company would fall under his leadership.

Jacob had spent the money he’d been given on the stock market. It could be a wise move, Mortimer knew, but at the same time it could backfire horribly.

And Jonathan… Mortimer sighed upon thinking of Jonathan’s plan. He had started to sell art as a photographer. There was, in his opinion, no way that this could work out. The only way Jonathan would succeed was if his brothers both failed.

Outside of the room, he heard footsteps. Softly, carefully. Anna hadn’t heard it, or she had not shown her hearing it. Mortimer walked away from the window and his niece.

Poor Anna, he thought. Both beloved and hated. She used to be the perfect woman for the Nightam family, but the wrong choices had befallen her. Luck had decided to rule against her and it had broken her. Her miscarriage had been the final straw. For a year after that miscarriage it had appeared as if the Nightam family would fall.

It had recovered from the shock, unlike Anna. Even now, she still refused to believe the truth, Mortimer had seen that in the way she’d stood there.

Outside of the door, a man was waiting.

‘You’re late,’ the man spoke these two words only.

‘I know,’ Mortimer said, ‘what is the cost of all the things you gave me?’