Blake Thorne is a (parvenu) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-10-21 22:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, amelia thorne, blake thorne, clementine murphy, graham ross, shane alexander |
quicklog: thorne manor, dc door
[The house wasn't much of a 'house' at all. 'Houses' didn't have two wings and a staff, or a garden full of prize winning dahlias that stretched on for acres.
It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, though. Built on the heights away from the city, there was a peculiar and nearly constant mist that crept down from the hills, particularly at this time of year. It kept a chill in the air and a faint haze around everything. It was evening now, and the fog was richest and thickest at sunset and sunrise. The lawn was well-kept, leaves raked carefully into piles by the gardener, who was just putting his tools away when the group arrived.
The maid met them at the door, no uniform, just a smart blue dress with a peter pan collar. They had just finished airing the East wing, she informed the ragged visitors. Amelia was greeted with a warm smile and clear recognition. Dinner was set to be served in half an hour, the maid told them. Mr. Thorne didn't dine formally, of course, and everyone in the house, the servants and its master, ate the same thing.
The food was served in the cavernous kitchen by the cook. The 'master of the house' didn't actually make an appearance until halfway through the meal, and even then, it was perfunctory, a brief greeting, a hug for his sister and quick introductions to everyone else. He had a headache, apparently, and he'd be in better shape to get to know the new roommates the next day, once he'd slept. At first glance he was thin and a little pale, but not weak or sickly. His eyes were faintly limned with dark circles, but with such a brief meeting it was hard to get much of an impression aside from the obvious wealth and beauty and general amicability to a bunch of strangers tramping in the front door to set up shop along with his sister, and maybe there was something strange in that in and of itself. It could be so hard to say what was generosity and what was eccentricity.
The maid served and chatted about the state of the house. The butler and cook both lived in the servant's quarters that faced the back of the house, while she still came in from the city every other day. The guests were to have the run of the place, and their beds had already been turned over. There was a room for each of them with more room to spare, each with its own full bath. No expense had been spared on this place, even if the old pipes did rattle a bit.
By the time the cook was dishing out cake, Blake had begged off and disappeared. The maid swept through the house to dim the lights before striking off into the cool air for home. By eight the house was quiet, the lights were low, and outside there was no sound but soft wind.]