The Secrets Within Pages

A Troublesome Visit

Cool, breezy air enters through the cracked window, tickling my neck. I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to this trip. Stuck in a car with Silas Golding for over an hour with no escape...

I pack a few items for a two day stay, along with a notebook and pen to record any information we learn. I await his arrival as we agreed upon leaving early in the morning and coming back as soon as we could. This was strictly business, no pleasure. Certainly not for me. 

An hour has passed and he is nowhere to be seen. I knew he'd do this. God, I knew he'd try to prolong this and mess it up. 

Two. Three. 

This was getting ridiculous. If he wasn't going to show up then I was going to leave. Grabbing my bags, I lock the door and leave. 

"Leaving without me?" 

Looking beside me, he stands in front of a car on the street. "You're the most insufferable, aggravating, inconsiderate-" 

"Bastard, arse, prick? Come on, Love, give me a new one I'm getting bored."

I ball my hands into fists, knuckles whitening.

"Just get in. You're wasting time."

"I'm wasting time?" I repeat the sentence, with lethal slowness. However, he's already in the car starting the engine. 

~~~

I look at the time and it's barely moving, static. 

"You drive like an old woman." I remark, looking at the steering wheel that his hands grip, his fingers adorned in silver rings.

"You act like one." He counters.

I look through the window and like scenes in a film, we pass the countryside, it's lush greenery decorated with vibrant flowers and trees of differing shapes and sizes. Picturesque villages with old cottage-like English homes and large farms. 

"My mother is worried about me." I blurt out, the tedious drive exacting confessions out of me. 

He steals a glimpse of me. 

"I mean about what's going on in Oxford. The murders." I elaborate.

"Nothing will happen to you." He says.

I furrow my brows. "You're not an old white man who was at Oxford twenty years ago, I mean. You don't match the MO." He explains.

"How about your parents? Aren't they worried about you?" I inquire. 

"My mother died when I was young and my father was never in the picture." He admits earnestly. 

I looked at him now. Really look at him. His eyes look... tired. As though an invisible, invincible armour lifted and what was underneath, was not what I'd expected. 

"I'm sorry." And I meant it. 

"Don't be. The world's a cruel place, everyone learns that in their own way."  he proclaimed. 

Seeing him in such stark contrast to how he usually behaves is, confronting.

"Tell me why you chose to study literature?" A question I was shocked I hadn't asked him, considering we'd been in the same class for three years now. 

I'd assumed he avoided the question when he didn't reply but then he spoke, "Because when I read about flawed characters, I didn't feel so alone. Because I read books that explored things people were too afraid to talk about. Because I felt understood." 

Part of me hated this. As selfish and horrible as it sounds, I didn't want to see him as good person... because if I did then maybe I wouldn't hate him as much. The other part of me understood him, he felt seen by books, he found solace in characters as messed up as they were, he found home within the pages. And isn't that why everyone reads, to escape what they cannot run from?

"Your driving still sucks." I reiterate, trying to slice the tense atmosphere.

To my surprise, he begins to laugh. A soft chuckle that grows louder, making me laugh too. 

~~~

Due to Golding's tardiness, we reached the house later in the evening. I get out of the car and stretch my limbs as I gawk at what stands before me. A huge estate with a manor and a lake not too far from the residence. As the sun sets, the sky is swirled in shades of periwinkle and magenta, night slowly casting a darkness over the landscape. Silas and I grab our luggage and trudge toward the manor in exhaustion. 

We ring the doorbell and listen as soft footsteps approach the door. 

"Good Evening Miss. Eleanor." Greets a small, petite woman with red hair, gesturing us in the house. "Oh, I wasn't informed of any other party." She continues, looking toward Silas.

"Silas Golding." He introduces, putting out a hand which she timidly shakes.

"Yes, I hope its not too much trouble." I say, placing my bags down. "Where is Mr. Fraser?"

"Oh, he is not at home at the moment. He'll be back in the morning." She informed, grabbing our coats. 

"I'll show you to your room." She offered, guiding us up a flight of stairs and through a hallway to a room. 

"So, this will be mine?" I assume. 

"Yes for the both of you Miss." She explains. 

"Both?" 

"I was only anticipating you ma'am, I had not prepared another room." 

This entire estate and there is no other room? 

As if reading my face, she says, "Mr. Fraser has no family therefore there are no other bedrooms save for his own. We only prepare other bedrooms when guests visit. It was mentioned that only you were arriving and-" 

"And it is too late to prepare another room." I finished her sentence. 

I couldn't think of a better way to finish this wonderful day. 

"Please, make yourselves at home. The kitchen is downstairs, there is a bathroom in the bedroom, and extra towels and linen in the closet." The maid expressed before leaving.

I stand there, wordless and on the verge of rage.

"This must aggravate you." He breathed from behind.