Widow's Peak

Chapter 5:

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Chapter 5:
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The carriage ride took much longer than I expected. Evidently, my new home was further away from the bustle of the town than I thought. Irvin didn't speak the entire time; he just sat back curling, and uncurling his fists. Mr. Benedict didn't make any sounds, so all that I heard were my loud thoughts, and the horses' hooves.

There seemed to be no other carriages coming this way. I wondered if my father often had visitors. I went to ask Irvin, but stopped when I remembered the fury that burned in his eyes. He was dangerous right now. Especially when I didn't know what had his temper flaring like that. Something in me whispered that Irvin didn't have the best relationship with the people here in Widow's Peak. I found that strange since he worked for the man that founded it.

Then again, no one here looked particularly friendly. They all seemed beautiful, aristocratic, and secretive. They had their own lives that they lived. If you weren't lucky enough to be included in one, you would never know about them. Unfortunately for me, I was one of the unlucky ones. So, I couldn't even begin to estimate what the families here were thinking. My own being one of them. This was not my home. I knew nothing about it, and I had so many unanswered questions.

I glanced over at Irvin whose jaw was still clenched so tight, I worried it would crack under the pressure. I opened my mouth to say something, but his eyes caught mine, and I immediately closed it. He regarded me for a second, thinking of something I would never understand. Maybe it was the resemblance of my father, or how unfit I was for this, or maybe he was thinking of how I could change Widow's Peak. Me, the unknowing, severely underwhelming, illegitimate daughter of the powerful founder. I could change nothing. I wasn't even supposed to be here.

No, I was supposed to be back at Janine's staring at the other girls as I put together the puzzle pieces of their pasts. I was supposed to be the only girl not shaking from the cold that seeped through the walls sometimes. I was supposed to be sitting across from Janine, and asking her the questions I knew she could never answer. But, now, the closer I got to the answers, the more questions I had.

Suddenly, the carriage pulled to a slow stop. Irvin was the first to get out where he dutifully held out a hand for me. I was still getting used to the special treatment. I awkwardly grabbed onto his hand, and stepped down. Mr. Benedict gave me that odd look again before exchanging a quick glance with Irvin. It wasn't until I looked up did my jaw completely drop.

The building couldn't even be called a house. It was more of a castle. I was facing the east side of the house, leaving the front to face the cliff. There were six black stone marble steps leading up to a heavy door with a brass knocker. There were windows on every floor. Irvin pulled me around the house by my elbow, while Mr. Benedict clambered down a path off to the right. When we reached the front door, it was so close to the edge, I could lean over, and see the waves crashing against the rocks below.

I grabbed onto Irvin out of sheer fear. His grip tightened on me, almost to a painful point. I winced, but he didn't seem to notice. I noticed that the path Mr. Benedict traveled down led to a small graveyard beside the house. It was lined, row after row, with neat graves. My eyes widened as I realized my father was most likely buried right there. "Do I get to visit there," I asked Irvin calmly pointing at the graveyard. He frowned, "I suppose. It is part of your property now. If you're looking for your father, I can tell you that he's the middle grave. The biggest one." I looked to where he half heartedly gestured, and immediately spotted the newest, shiniest, largest grave. I turned away with a sigh.

I wouldn't get any anders from a tombstone. Irvin fastened a tight hand around my elbow, and pulled me up the stairs. He didn't take out a a key, or even release his grip on me to knock on the door. All he did was turn the knob, and push the door open. It creaked a little as it swung open, revealing a vestibule that was decorated extremely well. If the size and location of the house hadn't told you of the resident's wealth, the decor certainly did. The first thing that caught my eye, was the large, winding staircase with a gold banister. There was a set of glass doors on my right that led to what I assumed to be the sitting and tea room.

There was another set of doors on my left that led into the dining room. A short hallway peeled off behind the stairs into darkness. The house was beautiful inside and out. Portraits lined the walls of times hardly remembered before painting was considering a thing of hurt. Irvin marched me straight to the stairs. "There are four floors including the attic. Your room is on the third floor. The door has a moon carved into the wood," he gruffly said, "Mrs. Culver will retrieve you for dinner in a few hours. I will see you then." And, with that, he was gone. He disappeared without a trace down the hallway, his cape billowing about him.

I looked up at the stairs. They seemed much more foreboding now that I was by myself. I picked up my bag with a huff, and started up them. My hand trailed across the banister, touching the smooth gold. Had my mother done this, or my father? How long had they been together? Who decided the relationship wouldn't have worked first? When had my mother discovered she was going to have me? I continued up the staircase past the second floor, and on to the third. When I stepped off onto the corridor, I smiled. Candles lit the walls, portraits between each candle. Each door had a different symbol carved on it. I passed a sun, rose, ship, cross, and dagger before I finally reached the moon.

It was a half moon, the details extraordinary. I pushed open the door and gasped. The room was simply beautiful. It only took me a few seconds before I noticed the portrait above the fireplace. The portrait of the woman who looked just like me. Except a thousand times more beautiful.