BONE HOUSE Read Free Page A

consequence am privy to its secrets. It is a large house, built by my master’s grandfather in the style of his time, but has been added onto by both succeeding generations. The result is a hodgepodge of function and design. Mymaster’s father added wings to the north and west; the former houses utility rooms and servant’s quarters, the latter a sumptuous guest chamber, fit for nobility, that is rarely put to use. My own master added a massive hexagonal turret to the east, with a library on the ground floor and a circular stairway leading to a gabled tower. At the very top is a viewing platform that only he makes use of. The turret gives the house a slightly lopsided appearance overall, being out of proportion to the rest, and oddly placed. My master himself is misshapen, his spine bent like a hook from an accident at birth, and I have often felt that he built the tower in his own image so he would feel more at home. For the Great House is very much my master’s hearth: he does not move easily among those of his class, and rarely ventures forth from his own grounds.
    He is the antithesis of his mother, my mistress, who longs to keep company with others, despite her age and failing health. Her husband died when I was but a child, and since then she has struggled to maintain her place in what little society our county affords. She delights in entertainments of any sort, and follows the fashions of the court in London as best she can, which is ludicrous given her age and relative isolation. There is a small scattering of minor nobility in the neighboring parishes with whom she socializes; otherwise she surrounds herself with physicians and servants, and in this way generates her own diversions. She is scrupulous in maintaining her outward appearance and dress, and my primary task these past few years has been to attend her in such matters. That is, when she does not take to her bed with illness, as she is wont to do when there is little else to distract her. At these times, I am kept busy with frequent applications of salves and ointments, and with Scripture readings, which she believes is beneficial to one’s health. All in all, it is relatively easy labor, so much so that my position sometimes causes jealousy within the Great House, though I doubt the others would find her constant advice and tuition easy on their ears. But I have learned to tolerate it, and have developed a facility for listeningwithout hearing, and of maintaining my own private thoughts while reading aloud.
    This morning she has taken to her bed, deciding she is ill, and has called upon me to send for her physician. He lives some miles away, and after dispatching one of the stable hands by horse to retrieve him, I return to her bedchamber. When I enter, she is dozing in her bed, and it strikes me that she, like my mother, appears newly aged. Like the queen she wears a wig in public, and without it her head seems too small, her silver hair so thin it barely shields her scalp. The skin of her face has been ravaged by years of makeup, and it appears rough and reddened when she does not conceal it with powder. She has lost many teeth, giving her mouth a sunken appearance, especially in sleep, and the skin on her neck hangs in great wrinkles. When I enter her chamber, she stirs and opens her eyes for a second, then closes them again and sighs. I seat myself beside her window in my favorite spot and take up my embroidery. She prefers that I attend her even while she sleeps, and I spend many an hour by the window with only my needles and musings for company. At such times I often grow restless, but today I do not care, for my mind is once again occupied by Long Boy.
    It now seems strange that only he has questioned his mother’s death. She was found by a farmer whose sheep had strayed from their enclosure. It was he who first tried to move her frozen body from the ice. When he could not, he returned to the village and a party of yeoman returned to the scene