Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Four

After two weeks, Jonathan decided it was time to make a few changes. He started with the evening meal, two weeks of sitting alone in silence with Lord D'Anvers as they ate, was enough. 

"My Lord?" 

"Yes?" came the surprised response.  

"As part of Evelyn's education, he would benefit from joining us for dinner. He needs to learn the art of conversation." 

"Does he?" 

"Yes," stated Jonathan, firmly. "It is just as important for him to know how to go on in polite society as any of the other subjects he is learning." 

Lord D'Anvers was silent, long enough for Jonathan to feel anxious, when he said, "I suppose you're right. Invite Evelyn to join us tomorrow evening, would you?" 

"Yes, my Lord." Jonathan hid his relief and sipped his soup. 

From then on, dinner became much more enjoyable, Jonathan would start a different conversation each night, on anything from philosophy to the latest news. At first the conversations were between himself and Evelyn, but after awhile Lord D'Anvers would join in, usually with a dry comment that showed he had been paying far closer attention than it had seemed. 

He had almost put the locked wing out of his mind, when two things occurred to whet his curiosity once again. Lord D'Anvers had given him a careless explanation, tossed over his shoulder, about the top floor of the west wing being unsafe due to excessive damp. The servants seemed to take it in their stride, ignoring its existence for the most part, however it hadn't been long before he discovered the local villagers considered the wing haunted, scarcely surprising he supposed, country people were a superstitious lot.  

That in itself had only been mildly interesting. No, what had aroused his interest again was the fact that on one of their walks, looking back at the house, he realised that the turret he had seen a light in, on his arrival, was placed firmly in the west wing. The realisation gave him a shock of surprise. For a second he felt a flash of superstitious dread freeze his heart. Was the turret haunted, in truth? He laughed at himself a trifle shakily. Of course not, far more likely a servant had been up there, on some errand for his lordship. 

This theory seemed to gain support when he noticed that one of the female servants appeared to spend most of her days up there. She was a sturdy looking, middle aged woman, who appeared a bit simple. Jonathan soon found out she was deaf as well which perhaps explained why she wasn't worried by the village talk of 'ghosts', but failed completely to explain why he had seen her coming out of the west wing in the first place. If the wing was really unsafe, it seemed a foolish risk to send someone in to dust and clean. 

His curiosity was piqued. Perhaps, one day when Lord D'Anvers was away on business and Evelyn was resting, he would have a look for himself. 

~~~~ 

Jonathan had been there a month, slipping comfortably into a routine, when the opportunity he had been seeking arose. 

Lord D'Anvers had business in London and would stay there for a couple of days. 

Jonathan waited until evening and the house settled for the night. He felt a mixture of fear and guilty excitement as he waited, but his curiosity was bigger than both. Wearing his oldest clothes, and carrying a lantern, Jonathan crept down the passage and up the stairs to the third floor. He paused outside the door to the west wing and reached out gingerly to touch the handle. It was locked.  

He grimaced. He supposed he should have expected that. And a very sturdy lock it was too. Still, he had one more plan up his sleeve. He slipped back down to his room and opened the window. Ivy covered the walls and he leant out backwards as far as he could, looking up. He was pretty fit, he was almost certain he could climb his way up to the top floor and at least get a glimpse inside through the window. 

He took off his slippers and eased out of the window, his hands gripping the sturdy branches, pausing for a moment when he got both legs out, holding his breath to see if the ivy would bear his weight as he had judged. The wind ruffled his hair but wasn't strong enough to be a threat, the clouds parted allowing the moon to shine through, lighting his way. Taking this as a good sign, Jonathan began to climb slowly and surely , upwards, angling always towards the west wing. 

Higher and higher he went, the ivy rustling as he fought his way through it to grab the thickest branches. He didn't stop to look down but kept going, he thought he must be close now, it seemed as if he had been climbing for hours. He craned his neck upwards, and saw a window ledge just above and to his right. A few moments later and he was peering inside, heart pounding, his hands cupped around his face, straining to see what was in the room. 

Only terror kept him from screaming.