The Gate Keeper

It was mid-September and very cold here, if I were to say how cold I’d say bone chilling because even though I was wearing a thick satin embroider coat, it was roomy enough to let the cold air sweep in under my dark scarlet nylon stockings and through my black satin dress. I walked about the large corridor of the Lubbock family; although I am a Lubbock I’d rather not claim myself as one of them, therefore I go by first names whenever I meet a stranger.
Under my steady pace and continuous open windows, the Persian rug led me to the tea room in which I was too be expected by my mother Victoria and my sister Ophelia. I kept wondering why they kept the windows open knowing how terribly cold it was outside. When I reached the wide soft blue doors engraved with gold outlining, I stopped my train of thought. With a swift of the hand I turned the gold handle and entered the spacious room which greeted me with warmth. I noticed the fireplace burning hot, little flames dancing around and calling my name but I disregarded it and looked over at the large Victorian sofa set in silver in which my mother sat in whilst drinking her tea, under her an ottoman in which Ophelia sowed, neither looked up to greet me.

“Mother...”

I walked over and stood in front of her, without glancing at me she reached out her bony hand and without question I gently wrapped my fingers around it and softly kissed her knuckle’s. Ophelia had stopped her sowing and was staring directly at me with abhorrence. I turned without a word and took off my coat, placing it on one of the ottomans opposite from Victoria. I then slowly paced too the large book shelf against the back wall which rested beside a large window in which I could see the garden, the leafless trees and the lifeless bushes creating figures around the fountain which wasn’t on because of the weather and probably other reasons I did not care about. I inspected the book shelf and found myself squeezing out “Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.” The dark blue material heavy under my hands; I walked back to a chair beside the fireplace and sat down comfortably opening the book to the first chapter. Before I could finish the first page, I was interrupted

“Is it in your plans to grieve nothing forever?” it was Ophelia, obviously inquiring about my choice of color. I closed my book and raised my eyes to meet hers with an even deadlier stare than the one I was receiving from her,

“Why yes, I grieve your presence and the fact that you might still be alive tomorrow”
I heard the teacup my mother was holding crash hard against the antique pie crust table beside her,
“Leave the room, immediately!”

I didn’t argue, in fact I stood up quietly not taking my eyes off of Ophelia’s pleased face, I then imagined myself roughly wrapping my hands around her tiny neck with so much force I was able to snap her in two. I placed the book on the chair where I was seated on before and quickly recovered my coat; turning to my mother I curtsied and exited the room.
Shrugging on my coat when I was on the corridor, I began to walk the opposite way of where I had come from. Carefully gazing out of the open windows and feeling the cold air pierce my skin I noticed two figures at the end of the hallway speaking in a very serious yet hushed tone, as if it was a secret.

“You must do as I say, it is your duty and I will not tolerate any less” the voice was very stern and familiar too me,

“Yes sir” answered the other silhouette, much softer.

As I began to walk towards them the tapping of my heel interrupted the conversation and I noticed it was my father Leopold and my elder brother Alfred. They both stared at me with startled expressions completely disregarding the previous conversation they had just shared, my father let out a small grunt and turned on his heel marching out into the corridor leading to his study room. I retorted my gaze too Alfred and he smiled kindly,

“Looking lovely as always sister”

I walked closer to him and kissed both his cheeks, then wrapped my arm around his and began walking towards the garden.

“How are you?”

I felt my voice linger wishing I could say more, due to the fact I had not seen my brother since he came back from his trip to Paris. My brother was very dear to me you see, he was someone I cared deeply about and whom I trusted with all my heart. He began to speak and his voice trailed off. He told me all about Paris, the music, the people, the small café in which every morning her would study the paper while sipping his coffee. I could smell it, see it, he painted a picture so vivid with his word it felt as if I was right beside him the whole trip.
We stopped walking and stopped beside the fountain then sat down on a small bench surrounded by white roses and if you looked up ahead it revealed a huge field of lilies so mesmerizing you would wish you were laying in it.

“What about you?” he turned to me, I did not know if he was asking how I was so I just decided to guess he meant that.

“I’m quite fine I suppose, no wonderful stories of beautiful theaters or small pubs too tell”

I sighed and leaned back against the bench, I stared down at my pale knuckle’s wishing I had worn some gloves. Beside me I could feel Alfred frowning, he wrapped one of his arms around my shoulder and tightened his grip then losing it and I felt warmer or maybe it was knowing someone had their arms around me, someone who cared about how I was.

I asked about the conversation he and father where having,

“It is nothing you should be concerned about…So listen a close friend of mine is having a small gathering in his residence. How would you like to accompany me?”

My eyes widened and I looked up at him, he was smiling and in his eyes I could tell he really wanted me to attend. I shrugged and told him it was very unlikely that our parents would let me; he laughed and said he would speak to them, assuring me that he would do his best to convince them.

“Well, if they approve I have no reason not to go” I smiled back; it wasn’t a genuine smile because I knew it wasn’t for sure I would be able to go.

He kissed my cheek, “It will be tomorrow at noon, you will have a good time I promise.”

I was afraid of that, of having too good of a time and never wanting to leave. Yet I knew I’d have to come back to this prison, whether I wanted too or not I was chained to these walls.