Silence Explained #AStormOfFanfiction

Chapter 4

My childhood home was nothing like my Aunt and Uncle's house. Their house looked abandoned, as if the owner didn't care what happened to it. This house looked alive and vibrant, the giant stones it was made out of clean and fresh. There were three stories and the walls seemed to stretch out along the freshly trimmed grass for kilometers, the many windows reflecting the sunlight beautifully. In taking in the manor, I had also noticed another thing.

It was almost as big as Mr. Ambrose's parents' home.

I would be lying if I said this house didn't appeal to me. I felt like deep down every girl dreamed up living in a beautiful house and this was the house that I had dreamt of growing up. It was exactly what I would have chosen if I had the option.

"I can't say it looks as nice on the inside," William interrupted, his head tilted back to take in the old stone manor. "It's been more than ten years since anyone has been in it."

But I wasn't paying too much attention to him because beside me, Mr. Ambrose stood there with somewhat of a shocked expression on his face. If you weren't used to seeing his stony visage every day you would never be able to tell. The only difference that I could make out was the slight widening of his eyes, but even then, it made me feel proud that my childhood home had that effect on him.

Or maybe he's shocked at the knowledge you haven't always suffered from the epidemic known as poverty, my subconscious snidely told me as she crossed her arms and also gazed at the house in awe.

I ignored her because I didn't want to dwell on unimportant matters while revisiting this place.

"Shall we?" William asked, disrupting both Mr. Ambrose and I from our contemplation.

I nodded hurriedly and followed behind me, pointedly ignoring Mr. Ambrose as I took in the shrubbery. For a house that had not had an owner in more than a decade, it was wonderfully well kept.

"Who has taken care of the house?" I asked Mr. Doherty, expecting him to say that he paid someone to or had even done it himself in honor of his late friend.

Instead, I received the answer of, "The former staff still comes to clean it time to time. Mainly Richard, the old butler, and Harry, the old caretaker."

It was odd hearing that some of my parents employees still came to their previous work place to clean it but I had no doubt that my parents had tried to make it as much of a home for them as they had for us. It was a little sad that I couldn't remember any of it.

When we got to the entrance it became a little more obvious as to how old the property actually was. Rust and grime covered the edges of the door, the underside of the handle slowly rotting away. I frowned a little.

To my surprise again, William did not produce a key from his pocket or from under one of the flower pots that were situated on the well managed porch.

But that did not happen. Instead, William said to us, "Stand back, if you would."

Now, I, being so amazing at following instructions, took a few steps back, fully aware of what he was about to try and do. But my employer simply stood in the exact same spot and glared at Mr. Doherty as if he couldn't believe he had the audacity to give him orders.

I snorted a little.

William stood there for a minute, clearly waiting for Mr. Ambrose to move but when he saw that it wasn't happening he simply shrugged his shoulder a little bit before positioning himself.

With his arms stretched out into what one could assume to be a protective position and his one foot braced in front of the other, he lunged forward with a grunt.