My Perfectly Dreadful Novel

these aren't the "full" chapters, just rough drafts. I know, I know-- they're completely AWFUL

Chapter Three: which contains a general description of the grounds and more details about the Ghastly family

Curtains twitched, and a pair of binoculars was hastily withdrawn from a third story window as I reached the front steps. As I stood looking up, it was a rather tall and ascetic looking man who opened the door at my tepid knock.“May I help you?” he intoned.

“Yes. My name is Miranda Fairbanks, and I’m here to see—“

He sniffed delicately.“You are expected, madam.If you will be so good as to wait in the hall while I see what is to be done with you….” His gaze followed mine up to the now empty window. “That would be Miss Maple, madam. If you will follow me?...”

I soon found myself standing, quite perplexed and abandoned, in the middle of a long, wood panelled hall lined with portraits in varying states of decay. A striking family resemblance was clear, as they all wore dark hair and nearly identical looks of extreme disapproval. I was admiring one particularly fine painting that portrayed a young woman wearing a pince nez and holding a distressed looking chicken, when I was rejoined by the butler and a harried looking housekeeper.

“How do you do, Ms. Fairbanks?” she gasped. “I’m Clarice Twinkler, the Ghastly housekeeper. I’ll show you to your room and otherwise get you situated…. Thank you Tuppings,” she added as the butler glided silently away. “Now then,” she said as she ran her hands through a disheveled mop of curls, “where were we?”

I hestitated. “Well, I was hoping to see Mr. Lawrence Gha—“

“Oh, that isn’t possible, I’m afraid” she stated quite firmly. “He’s in his study writing a letter of complaint, and he’s not to be disturbed. But he did suggest that I show you around the grounds… I understand he’s to mentor you for first year law?”

“Yes, that’s right”

“Well, good luck —he does seem to go through them so quickly... just drop your bags here, there’s a love—I’ll have one of the boys bring your things up to your room, and, meanwhile, I’ll just show you around!”

As the study was off limits, I was first shown to the library, a marvelous oak-panelled high-ceilinged room straight out of a mystery novel. Another hallway led from that to the drawing room (“I don’t know why they call it that—I mean, no one uses it for drawing anything” mused Clarice). Other nineteenth century delights were: a decrepit billiards room; a sitting room over which someone had vomited enormous amounts of chintz; a music room (“You’ll want to strictly avoid that one,” she said). Outdoors were a lovely old-fashioned topiary garden, a vegetable garden, a rather large and murky fish pond, and a stable converted to a garage. In addition, she assured me, the Ghastlys were quite proud of the aviary (“He breeds chickens, you know – blue ribbon winners!”) and on weekends would often socialize at the swimming pool.

After climbing to the second floor, (“mostly bedrooms and the nursery,” she stated) we stopped at one of a series of rooms along yet another rather dingy hall lined with portraits. I paused in front of a lighter patch of wall where someone had obviously removed a picture. “What happened to this one?” I asked.

“Oh…” She paused and whispered “that was a portrait of his oldest daughter, Greta – she… she isn’t with us any more… Mr. Lawrence doesn’t like to speak of it….ahem!” She swept into the room and I quickly followed. “Now then!” she said brightly. “Here’s where you’ll be staying; it’s been shut up for a very long time, but I hope you’ll find it suitable.”

I stared dumbly at the pink ruffled canopy bed with pink ruffled pillows, the pink ruffled curtains, the shocking pink carpet, the shelves full of teddy bears and stuffed clowns, baby pink wallpaper and a horribly gilt framed print of frolicking fairies and unicorns. “Um…”

“Just remember to pull that bell rope by the bed if you ever need anything. Dinner’s at eight – Mr. Lawrence does prefer promptness— oh, and I do hope you like haggis!” And with that she swept out the door.