Victorie plus N

Chapter 1: Beckenridge Manor

The first thought I have when the big, black GMC Yukon rides up to the manor is how big it is. A perfectly normal thought, I mean, it is a manor after all, isn't it? It's supposed to be big.

"Miss Beckenridge, we have arrived, would you like me to phone the servants to get you a snack," the chauffeur (a real chauffeur!) asks me, breaking me out of my awe.

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm okay," I reply, still startled by the size of the manor.

This is the place I'll be living in for the next few years of my life, possibly even forever.

Beckenridge Manor on Beckenridge Hill Estate. This manor has been in my family for centuries. My late grandfather was the last in the direct family line to own it before my dad- but he's dead, and my mom, too, so now I own it. Well, from what I've been told, I do. I wouldn't mind owning something this big, either. I try to find my phone to take a picture and send it to my friends back where I used to live, California, but I can't find it. Guess I left it in my suitcase.

The nice thing is that I won't be living alone, because apparently, two of my 2nd, 3rd (?) cousins were staying with my grandfather before he died, while their father was on a long work trip around the world. And now they'll be staying with me. I've only seen them once or twice in my life because they rarely ever came to any of the big family reunions the Beckenridge family had, where Grandfather came to his big old house in Massachusetts, US, for Easter and all the Beckenridges from the US and Europe -and who knows where else- came to visit each other for the holiday. I remember him always being the life of the party- last year he taught us adults and kids how to dance the Irish jig. For real, I'm not kidding. For a rich business man, he was actually pretty funny. It's too bad that he died.

The driver halts the GMC (Grandfather had several, they were his favorite type of car, along with a Mazzerati, Lexus convertible, and a limo, which now, technically are all mine), and hops out, opening the rear door for me. I thank him and climb out. He shuts the door to get my stuff as I look up at the manor. It's at least six stories high, and made all with brown bricks. There are big glass windows -most are covered by white curtains- and the building seems to make a blocky U around the semi-circle driveway. Surprisingly, the house doesn't seem to be crumbling. And I guess it's more of a mansion than a manor but whatever.

I suddenly realize another man is outside with us, and is taking my bags -actually, I only have one bag, a carry-on, my other two suitcases got lost at the airport- and then I have my backpack on my back, from the driver. I mean chauffeur. I shoulder my backpack.

The other man bows to me. He is older looking, maybe 50? But has kind blue eyes. "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Beckenridge, I am Leonard King, the head butler here at this manor. Please, refer to me as Leo."

Did he say head butler? There's more than one?

"I, umm, am pleased to meet you, too. Thanks for having me, and, uh, you can just call me Victorie," I tell Leo, like I told the chauffeur earlier.

"It is no inconvenience, Miss Beckenridge, " he says, ignoring my request like the chauffeur did, "Here, let us go inside, it is chilly out."

As much as I want to disagree, I can't- being from the southern, sunnier side of California, I'm kind of cold out here in northern England, even though it's the middle of May.

"Oh, okay, thanks," I wave goodbye to the chauffeur, who has already climbed back into the GMC and is about to drive away.

Then I head inside with Leo. The door is grand, but the hallway we walk into is even grander than the outside of the house, if that's even possible. There are large portraits of studious-looking people (my ancestors, I guess), statues of Roman people (they all had robes on), china vases on ornate tables, and finally the grand staircase with its big chandelier and main staircase leading to a wall that branches out to two different staircases. On the wall is a hanging of the family crest: An open book against four colored panels (two navy, two gold), shaped in a shield. On the floor is a navy and gold rug, or carpet, that also lines the hall.