Ravenrook Chronicles: The Mysterious Student

Chapter 5

Henry opened the door into an exquisitely decorated foyer. The decor was clearly late Victorian. There was an amazingly detailed Persian rug, covered in reds, whites and greens with intricate and fine geometric patterns, in the middle of the room. The walls had a green damask wallpaper and were covered in portraits of the Ravenrook family. Henry's ancestors looked down on Tim from their frames. All had the signature Ravenrook look. They were all blondes with deep blue eyes, the males all looked strikingly similar to Henry, just older. It made him shiver, the eyes seemed to trace his every move. Regarding him carefully as if waiting for him to make a false move.

"Amazing," Tim said, suddenly strangely intimidated.

"Isn't it?"

"The Ravenrook townhouse."

"The vault for my secret," Henry whispered under his breath so that Tim could not

hear it.

Henry moved through the house nervously. Tim could hear Henry's breathing starting to quicken. The house was equally as beautiful as the foyer. Clocks and paintings adorned the walls. Antique furniture with elaborate carvings furnished the rooms. The townhouse was a clear show of old wealth and class that the Ravenrooks accumulated over centuries of prominence. In comparison to the manor which was far more modernised. The townhouse had the charm of the past two centuries.

Tim was both awed and intimidated. This trip brought to light something that he often forgot in conversations with Henry. Henry was freakishly wealthy. He was heir to the family fortune and soon to be head of many companies. Despite this he was normal, he didn't flaunt his wealth, much like the other rich kids Tim knew. As if the novelty most find in such wealth had worn off, as if Henry had experienced multiple lifetimes of luxury that it had just become normal, tedious even. Perhaps it was the simple fact that Henry was old money, an ancient house that had been accustomed to wealth for as long as they existed. If this was the case, Tim could not say for sure. In their eyes, Tim was a human resource, unlikely to climb the social hierarchy. Tim would work until he retired and collect state pension. Ultimately worthless, unimportant. Despite him proving his worth by being invited, most of them saw him as being in the wrong place, he was sure of it. He assumed they felt as though he was invading their private elite space. Henry was different despite being wealthier and of a higher class than the others. Despite the clear social boundary, Tim felt the most comfortable when he was with Henry.

Henry looked back at him and took his hand. Henry's palms were moist and he swallowed hard.

"Almost there," he said with an anxious smile.

"Lead the way,"

Henry led Tim up a flight of spiral stairs that ended in a doorway. Tim gulped. Henry's sudden seriousness and all the secrecy had finally coalesced into a mild panic. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears like a drum. His chest grew tight. "What's so serious about this secret?" Tim asked himself as he steeled his nerves, "Regardless of what the secret is, Henry is Henry." Henry whipped around and gave him a look of reassurance before opening the door. Tim could tell that the look was more for Henry's sake than his own.

Compared to the rest of the house, this room was bare, there was a single tattered curtain covering a window, obscuring the moonlight that would stream into the room. Tim had gotten so absorbed in the atmosphere of the house that he had not noticed the time go by. At one end of the room was a simple wooden table atop which sat a box. The box was gilded and highly ornate with gold filigree and ivory inlays in the shape of a raven with its wings outstretched. It seemed out of place in such a bare room. Henry swallowed his nerves and approached the box. Staggering forward as if gravity increased with each step. Tim could faintly hear Henry's laboured breaths echoing in the bare room. Henry was visibly shaking as he marched onward, drawing closer to the box. Tim entered the room with great trepidation. It was as if he could feel Henry's malaise.

Henry opened the box and drew out a single tintype photograph. With shaking hands, he gave the tintype to Tim. It was an old funerary picture. The body looked exactly like Henry.

"This is Henry Thomas Ravenrook," Henry explained.

"You're the spit and image, Harry!"

"There's a little more to show you. We'll find it in the crypts beneath the house."

"Lead on."

Henry led Tim down to the crypts.The area was dusty and dank. The walls were lit only by the candle they were carrying.The candlelight danced across the walls while the shadows that were cast played on Tim's nerves on the very edges of his periphery. They caused Tim to recall some of the darker, scarier pieces of folklore that he had read. Tim could smell the stale, damp, earthy air in the underground tunnels. Faintly in his head he could hear Chopin's Prelude in e minor op.28 no.4. The tense atmosphere of the tunnels reminded him of the tense romantic dischordance of the piece.

"Henry I, built these crypts for the heads of the house, since then Henry I and II have

been buried here."

They quickly reached the door to the crypts. Henry went to unlock it but before he did, he turned to look Tim in the eyes. He gave a hesitant sigh before he steeled his nerves, nodded, still hesitant, for he knew that once the door was open, he'd have to tell Tim. Tim could hear him swallow and saw him nod again before opening the door. Tim could see carved sarcophagi lining the walls. The long crypt corridor had a vaulted ceiling. It was a beautiful underground mausoleum. The pillars were carved with ornate designs with a raven motif.

"Here is Henry I's sarcophagus,"

Tim's heart was beating so fast at this point that he thought it might just stop. Breathing had become a near impossible task. He looked down to see a perfect recreation of Henry's face. There was no doubt, every curve, edge and feature were a perfect match. They had captured Henry's sunken cheeks and his high cheekbones.The angular, chiselled jawline and surprisingly, Henry's soft eyes mimicked paradoxically in the hard stone. It was perfect. Dressed in a burial shawl. Henry took a breath and pushed the sarcophagus lid open.Tim felt every muscle in body tense as Henry slowly pushed the lid of the sarcophagus aside. Tim's mind flooded with grotesque images of decay while he swiftly tried to prepare himself for what he was about to see. His breath quickened and his hands grew numb, Tim's panic was quickly replaced by confusion, simultaneously relieved and perplexed to find that the sarcophagus was empty. Seeing his reaction, Henry moved over to the next sarcophagus. Again The carved lid looked identical to Henry. He opened it and again, the sarcophagus lay bare.

"Timmy, I am Henry Thomas Ravenrook, the one and only.