A lady - who looked about my age and was dressed in the same odd uniform as the one who greeted me in my bedroom a few hours ago - gracefully poured hot tea into the fine china cup that's placed in front of me. The table itself looked elegantly put together with its embroidered linen cloth that's pressed to perfection, completed with a delicate tea set and plates filled with different kinds of cakes.
The smell of scones and madeleines, along with the hot tea and its dash of milk, tempted my senses. It reminded me of the tea times I used to have with Grammy when she was alive, though our definition of tea was always practical, and this was anything but.
"Thank you," I whispered with a smile, before the three people that's been preparing our tea walked back inside, leaving Arthur and I alone in the balcony.
"Arthur," I began, his name was still foreign on my tongue. "If you don't mind my asking, how did I wake up here in what I assume to be your home?"
He took a quick sip of his tea, the vapor escaping the cup's brim before disappearing into thin air. He was silent for a second, though I could tell that he was carefully thinking of his response before deciding to answer.
"It took place a few days ago, when I took a morning stroll down the coast. Maud started barking mad from the distance so naturally I ran up to see what the noise was about. You were lying there on the sand, unconscious and drenched to the bones," He explained, "It didn't take long for me to bring you back here, your dog was highly complying as I carried you back."
I glanced down at Otto, who was lounging lazily at the foot of my chair, feeling a sense of almost humorous disappointment at the idea that the little bugger complied with a stranger who carried me while I was unconscious.
My head was running through tons of questions regarding the event, though none of which I could properly form into a sentence without sounding unpleasant or ungrateful.
"Thank you very much," I started, still averting his gaze. There was something about him that I couldn't put my finger on. "I am grateful, truly, but I-I think I'm going to go. Yes, I really must go."
"Clementine," He cut, "For what I did, I really would like to apologize. It was uncalled for, I realize that now-"
"No, no!" I shook my head, standing up from the chair and placing the napkin down. "I really don't want to impose any further, please."
"I really don't want you to feel like you need to go," He interjected, standing up as well. "If this is about what happened, I think we can-"
"Forgive me for being so bold Arthur, but I don't even know you," I told him, trying to be frank but I could tell that my words took him by surprise. "You must know how grateful I really am for what you've done, but if I need to be honest, I can't really stay in a stranger's house all by myself now, can I?"
A bitter look of hurt flashed across his face, and for a moment I regret my choice of words.
"Of course, I understand. I can't force you to stay here," He sighed defeatedly, "But please, promise me that if you need anything - anything at all - you are always welcomed here."
I nodded slowly, "Thank you."
"Vernon will show you the way out," Arthur informed. "Be safe, Clementine."
Vernon, the butler who was dressed in a penguin suit, showed me the way out in silence - leaving no trace of sound except for the echo of footsteps coming from our shoes and Otto's paws.
Now that I wasn't panicking about where I was or how I ended up here, I could finally digest the wholeness of this place, and what kind of person could actually afford to live here. Starting from the floor and all the way up to the ceiling, there were no spot that was left untouched by intricate detailing and state-of-the-art materials, no doubt crafted by the most talented pairs of hands.
YOU ARE READING
Once Before
Historical FictionClementine have always felt like something was missing in her life, a feeling she couldn't quite comprehend, but she paid it no mind. All was well as she had begun to settle down back at home, to the humble little town of Ashford where she'd grown...