At Stenwulf House

Chapter 11: Bradshaw Mansion

Chapter 11: Bradshaw Mansion

To ensure that precious time was not wasted, Calden decided to find his way to Bradshaw household first. The trip to the different tailors would have to wait. From White Tavern, he returned to his carriage, then gave instructions to the coachman, who had to ask for directions. Calden waited patiently for his return in the carriage, carefully going through the questions that he felt were essential to ask when he arrived at Bradshaw House. It turned out that the amount of time he needed was a lot shorter than he had expected. Pride bloomed in him, happy that he was able to see himself improve, but he also made sure that there was no complacency in sight. Helping those in need would require more than this. He would only look at improving himself.

The trip to Bradshaw was considerably a long one, almost an hour. It was located on the other side of town, away from Stenwulf House. When it came into view, Calden was less than surprised to see the amount of land that the Bradshaw family occupied. He was an Ekel, a man of status and money, and it was obvious he was of a similar form as Colton Ackerley, one who flaunted. Calden's expression tensed into a frown. His eyes narrowed further as the carriage was allowed to enter through the gates — gates that were made of gold.

Where the garden was at Stenwulf House, here at Bradshaw, it was a museum for gargantuan statues, fountains and artifical plants, all feathered with gold. Large slabs of white stone covered wherever was spotless. There was no gardener in sight, but of course, there was no garden to tend to. Was this an attempt to reduce cost, or did Bradshaw not like a garden on his front lawn? Calden rather thought it was the latter. All the gold Bradshaw had bought could make up for fifty or so gardens. It was in no way economical. Whatever reason Bradshaw had for disliking greeneries, Calden could only think of reasons that were beyond even his comprehension. He chose not to care, and let the curiosity slip away. It was better to focus on the task at hand.

When Calden exited his carriage, he was greeted by a young maid, one who was dressed neatly with her dark hair tied back. She was so young she could very nearly be the same age as Miss Everild. She was looking down even as she curtsied, and the smile on her face was so obviously forced, Calden made no effort to put up a smile of his own. Smiles didn't come easily to him anyway.

"Lord Bradshaw is currently not in residence. Would you like to pass on a message? I'll be delighted to be of service," said the maid. Her voice suited her demeanour, lifeless, but she was at least professional. Still, what she said had made him curious.

"Does this household not have a butler?" The butler was usually the one who helped receive visitors. To have a maid receive them...

The maid blinked quickly, then nodded her head politely. "We do not."

Calden frowned. "Unbelievable." He looked away and stared at the lacquered front door. "Lord Bradshaw is dead."

A small gasp escaped the maid's lips. When he turned to look at her, he found her gazing at him with wonder, her grey eyes nearly wet with emotion. Calden's frown only deepened, for he could detect that something was not right. Before he could decipher what it was, the young maid quickly looked down again.

"That... that is..." she trailed off.

Calden waited for her to finish. When she did not, he said, "I wish to speak with the person in charge of the on-goings in this household, if I may."

"Of course," she replied shakily, then moved to open the door for him.

"Thank you."

The maid followed quickly behind him when they entered. Calden could only admire the architecture of this house with disdain, not because he envied Bradshaw for having the means to pamper himself. Calden did have the means as well, only that he didn't think it appropriate to dump them all out at once. No, he was feeling negatively because, once again, Bradshaw had proved himself a man who flaunted with no restraint. If there was no marble covering the walls and pillars, there was gold — pure, lustrous gold, as if the golden statues shining brightly outside in the sun were not enough. It was positively blinding to the eyes and was in no way as homely as Stenwulf House.