A Parish Darker: A Victorian Suspense Novella Read Free

von Savanberg as he gently led me into what was meant to be a dining room but appeared in many ways to be a banquet hall.
     
    The long table suitable for seating at least two dozen men and women was impeccably furnished—not one utensil was even a centimeter out of place with those to either of its sides. Though it could have served a dinner to a royal family without contest, the table was to only have two diners that night.
     
    “This castle is so large that even I have not uncovered all of its many secrets,” said the Baron, pulling out for me my seat and motioning for me to join him. “As a boy I found my way into what you may call… a cave in this language? Just out there in the garden. It may well have been forged by one of the former incarcerated prisoners in an escape attempt, no?”
     
    The Baron’s speech grew more elegant as he spoke. I came to see a particular skill of his was that of learning with great adeptness. Should I speak in a certain manner that even in the slightest way came in a more naturalistic tone or inflection by comparison, he would swiftly adapt and take it on as his own.
     
    It was not only his dress and speech that were impressive, however. So, too, was his skill within the kitchen. As I seated myself and undid the tablecloth onto my lap, the Baron removed the cover on our main course for the evening: a roast of undeniable delicacy, one so appeasing in sight and smell that even the eyes watered for it alongside the mouth. The Baron seated himself at the head of the table, inviting me to sit just to his right.
     
    As a host, I had no complaints with Baron von Savanberg and his penchant for limitless amenities and courtesy. When my drink would be the slightest bit empty, no sooner would his hand be reaching for the bottle. Even in the few occasions I had visited the highest class of restaurant in London, such service was a rarity.
     
    “Baron, I must say that you are the most gracious host I have had the pleasure of meeting,” I said while taking a drink of the exquisite champagne he had fashioned for the occasion. “I am surprised, with your sophistication and good manner, that there is not a Mrs. von Savanberg joining us.”
     
    The Baron titled his own glass, swirling its contents, as he paused and stared ahead. “There are things that you will no doubt understand with time, Edwin. Time is the great instructor, the great teacher. To an old man like myself, though, it is also the most relentless of enemies.”
     
    My host lifted his glass to meet mine, offering a toast. “May we both live long and healthy, my friend.”
     
    Baron Lechner von Savanberg’s words came with genuine determination and enthusiasm. Though we had only known each other such a short while, I could not deny the unmistakable sense of camaraderie we shared even in those early hours.
     

CHAPTER III
     
     
    The castle’s long halls forged of stone were not crafted with acoustics in mind. Soon after finishing our meal, the Baron continued the tour of his vast home, all during which rain pattered against the candle-lit window panes with incessant frequency.
     
    Following dinner was a very brief moment for assorting my things in the room set aside for my stay. The chief fixture inside that immediately caught the eye was a bed far too large for one occupant—one made from the finest oak and clothed in the most illustrious and ornate fabrics. A pair of windows faced away from the doorway, with the usual amenities of closet, chair, desk, and drawers that one may expect from a guestroom. A well-kept and soundly-equipped toiletry area was likewise included.
     
    No sooner had I finished my unpacking and surveying of my quarters did the Baron return to continue familiarizing me with his home. We viewed several rooms, omitting some choice others that the Baron mentioned being under renovation. It was then that he suggested visiting his library, which he assured would not disappoint.
     
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