Lady Enchantress, Karmalle Herzen [best books under 200 pages .txt] 📗

The mansion of Mr. Moret, my supposed employer, left an indelible impression on me. Dark and magnificent, it towered over me like a giant bird of prey, frightening and attracting with its mysterious beauty at the same time. Huge eye-pits of windows were staring at me from above in an arrogant and distrustful manner.
Loud rock music in my earphones suddenly seemed somewhat inappropriate. I moved to decrease the volume, but right then the entrance door has swung open. A slender woman stood on the doorstep. Her light hair was scraped into a ponytail. She must have seen the taxi leaving through the window. I pulled the earphones out and broke into a broad smile.
“I am Mrs. Odley,” the stranger presented herself. “I take it that you have come to have an employment interview?”
“Yes. Beatrice Lane.”
With squinty eyes, Mrs. Odley cast a glance at me. I put on my neatest dress today, black with lace trimmings. I applied just a touch of the lip gloss and mascara, and I had my dark hair nicely styled, so I was completely calm about my looks.
By all appearances, the stranger was pleased with what she saw. When she looked up, I read approval in her eyes.
“Come on in.” She opened the door wider, and I slid into the room.
As soon as I entered the mansion, my player suddenly started crackling. The music stopped and then died away. I looked in surprise at the display that went dark, shrugged, and put the player in my clutch. I lifted my head and finally looked around. An inexplicable feeling struck me. It seemed that when I entered the house, I stepped into a time machine which took me several decades back into the past, to an entirely different era. It was as if the mansion came from the distant past: candelabra with lit candles on the walls, broad and steep staircase made of dark wood, and narrow ceiling-high windows.
When Mrs. Odley began to speak behind my back, I shivered involuntarily: I was so carried away by the examination of the mansion that I completely forgot about her presence.
“Servants are few here. It’s just me and Ms. Brin, the cook.”
I turned around.
“And you…”
“I discharge the duties of a governess,” Mrs. Odley said dryly. “Mr. Moret has a daughter. I am involved in her homeschooling”.
I could not help but wonder why the daughter of the mansion’s owner needed the in-house education when there were several decent schools in Redenwood. Of course, the question remained unvoiced. It was not necessary to evince an extreme curiosity.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Mrs. Odley commanded.
I followed her obediently, clasping my clutch nervously. I was not worried. I just felt quite uneasy about this unusual house.
I was brought here by a handwritten ad on a lamp post. It looked so awkward and old-fashioned that it struck the eye whether you liked it or not. I do not know why the hell I tore a sheet with a telephone number (not a mobile, home number!) and called. Although I could hardly imagine myself as a housemaid, the opportunity to live in the employer’s, not my parents’ house, seemed exceptional to me. Besides, I have been in Redenwood before, and I considered it quite a picturesque and pleasant town.
I began to look for a job (on the internet, not on posts, though) after I brawled with my parents. As a result, my mother made a firm decision to stop financing her good-for-nothing daughter who all of a sudden dropped out of the university where she had settled her with so much pain. It was useless to explain that I was gasping with boredom and felt completely needless there. I had a sensation that I was out of place, but I did not know where my place was.
Following Mrs. Odley, I came to a spacious kitchen suffused with light. There was a table for six, oven, and hot plate there. I was blinking wonderingly: I just realized that candelabra were everywhere: there was not a single electric lamp! Having noticed my confusion, Mrs. Odley explained vaguely:
“Bad wiring. We are accustomed to the fact that electricity and this house are mutually exclusive. It does not like various devices either.”
I sighed mentally. So there is no internet here. Charming, indeed! I thought about my own home and immediately remembered my mother’s scowl and hurtful words, “Beatrice, you are twenty-two already. What have you achieved? Youth will pass very quickly, and what will remain?”
I almost hated her for those words. It was as if she did not understand how hard it was for me – or she realized it and was deliberately poking the sharp needle into the soft spot. I have been trying to find myself, understand who I am and what I want in life since I have left school. I got involved in different activities, but none of them was sufficiently exciting to stay in my life forever. My education, among other things, went sour. I was rushing around like a blind mouse. Most of all, I was afraid that one day I would become a woman who goes to repulsive work every day, dreaming of the end of the working day, and comes home thinking of holidays and spending the short period of rest watching TV or reading books. And so on ad infinitum. Life passes, and there no lively recollections at all.
To me, they were as necessary as the breath of life. I was smothering with mediocrity and platitude and continued to look for my place in the world.
“Is everything OK?”
The voice which roughly burst into my consciousness belonged to Mrs. Odley. Apparently, I was deeply lost in thought again and did not hear her words. Well, well, that is not what is called a great first impression. I guess the governess has already mentally christened me a weirdo.
“Yes, forgive me, I fell into a muse,” I stated.
She introduced me to Ms. Brin, a pleasantly plump, rosy-colored girl with dark hair in fanciful plaits. The cook smiled at me brightly and asked to call her Mitsy.
I noticed some changes in the behavior of Mrs. Odley. She suddenly became somewhat nervous and restless. One could read discontent on her serious face. Looking around, the governess mumbled:
“Where did she go?”
I came close to asking who she was looking for but I bit my tongue and inquired instead:
“When will Mr. Moret come down?”
“Why do you need him?” Mrs. Odley asked, somewhat suspiciously.
I raised my brows in surprise.
“Won’t he be conducting an interview?”
“Mr. Moret is a very busy man,” the governess answered with dignity. “In fact, he doesn’t care who will dust his dressers. He entrusted me with hiring a housemaid.”
“Oh.” I straightened my shoulders involuntarily, looking at Mrs. Odley in anticipation. She paid no attention to the potential employee and kept looking around.
“Maybe you are interested in something particular?” I decided to take charge of my destiny. “My experience is limited, but I am neat and clean.” It was quite right: my dorm room could win in the tidiness contest if somebody decided to organize one.
Mrs. Odley nodded absent-mindedly. I was not even sure that she heard my words. Having sighed in an irritated manner, the governess finally deigned to turn her attention to me.
“I must warn you that this house is not a place for gossip merchants.”
“I am not one of them,” I answered firmly.
She nodded, sat at the table, and invited me to do the same with a gesture. She posed some questions about my family, places where I studied and things I did. However, during all the time of our short conversation, I was pursued by the idea that she took little interest in my answers.
Mitsy brought us some tea, and at the moment when I reached out for the cup, the most beautiful cat I have ever seen floated into the kitchen haughtily. The word “entered” is not appropriate to the image of that white queen. The snow-white animal had a long thick coat, and its eyes resembled two fragments of pure emerald. There was a leather collar with green gemstones on its neck. Mesmerized, I watched the proud walk of the fluffy temptress.
It came to me, inclined its head towards a chair and went around it. The cat sat right opposite me. Enchanted, I looked into the animal’s emerald eyes. They attracted me like a magnet. Silence fell in the kitchen, and I still could not drag my gaze away. It looked very much like a “who blinks first” game.
The snow-white beauty closed its eyes tight and jumped into my lap. Mrs. Odley gave a sigh of relief, or was it just my impression? She broke the silence:
“This is Ari.”
I shook the fluffy paw jokingly and presented myself, giggling:
“Beatrice.”
However, when I lifted my head up, there was not a mere trace of a smile on the governess’s face.
“So, Ms. Lane, you are appointed to the position of a housemaid. Take a look around, deal with your baggage, and I will explain your duties in detail later. I think you understand that there they are not very difficult.
Utterly amazed by such unexpected news, I got to my feet. On my way to the hall, I pondered over the strange behavior of Mrs. Odley: it seemed that she had been waiting for Ari and its approval. The more I thought about it, the more I doubted the lucidity of my mind. Still, I was struck by the bizarre and haunting feeling that I was employed by a cat.

Publication Date: 10-25-2017

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