The Adventures of Verity Cogswell, episode 3
In which our author is finally back in the Land of the Living...
Hi guys!
I’m back and ready to roll. Here is Episode 3, only a week late. Thank you for your patience and well wishes- I am feeling much better after my bout with Covid. Keep an eye out for another post with the release date of Paranormal Times, episode 1- I am almost done with my TAPD (Toxic Author Perfectionism Disorder) and will hit publish soon! In the mean time, enjoy Verity and her adventures.
Episode 3, The Centerpointe inn
The Centerpointe Inn was just that, an inn built in the center of the Tricksy Wood.
Set in a clearing carved out of the Wood by humans, the vine-covered stone building and attached stone barn seemed to cower behind the iron fence that circled around its sizable yard.
Up close, Verity could see that the cottage, although picturesque in its woodsy setting, was also designed to repel the fae. Fancy shutters bracketed the windows and white painted molding lined the roof like icing on a wedding cake.
A wraparound porch encased the entire building with railings and columns of swirling white iron lace.
The barn trim was also iron, cold and black. Even the paddock fences were made of the stuff. Above the double doors of the barn hung a large round iron clock face whose hands pointed to four o’clock.
The afternoon light threw shadows onto the ground, giving the whole thing a Gothic, unhappy energy, like the entire place was stuck in jail. Verity wondered as Spokes set the brake and removed his goggles and ear plugs why anyone would try to suss out a living in such an unfriendly environment.
Still, she thought as she pulled out her own ear plugs (the air made a curious *pop* in her ears, and she shook her head to clear them), this is the road I must take if I am to realize my dreams. One step at a time, keep your eyes on the destination.
The destination being Aethos and the Universitarium, under her own volition, and not at the beck and call of Society and its Dictations of Decorum.
She turned her attention to their surroundings. The high, forbidding fence hid most of the forest from sight, but she couldn’t help but notice that the treetops visible over the perimeter were hanging back from the fence in quite a dramatic fashion, like children afraid of being burned.
The gate looked secure, with three locking mechanisms that were just clicking into place. She glanced around for the person who had let them in, but saw no one. She heard two more zaps of overzealous lunatic wasps trying to penetrate the barrier, and then nothing but one brave songbird who took advantage of the silence to showcase his trilling melody.
Inside the barrier, things looked mostly normal. Green grass, gravel drive. Around the spiral garden to the left of the house stood three tall Bellarose trees, usually showpieces in any garden with their straight blue trunks topped by a profusion of dark green spiky leaves and yellow powderpuff flowers the size of dinner plates. But instead of spreading their branches wide to catch as much sun as possible for their fat blossoms, these trees seemed to force them upwards or downwards where the fence passed close by. Their very demeanor begged a question.
“Nanny,” she whispered. “Are the trees in the Wood connected to faeries? Are they affected by the iron, too?”
Nanny tucked the tennis rackets back into her bag, removed her goggles and earplugs, and held out a hand for Verity’s.
Verity shook her head and tucked hers into the pocket of her skirt.
Nanny didn’t argue, just gestured for Spokes to hand them down from the carriage to the ground.
“Everything in the Tricksy Wood is of faery,” she said. “Never forget, faeries are a part of Nature herself.”
The door to the inn flew open, cracking against the wall in the excitement of the plump woman who pushed through. She was as tall as Verity but easily twice as wide, wearing a neat day dress the color of the sky and pristine white apron. A matching cap sat atop her shocking orange curls. She smiled, and her freckled covered nose crinkling.
“Oh, my! Guests! What a pleasant surprise!” she said in a voice Verity’s mother would have described as ‘sweet as candy.’
Verity cocked her head and glanced up at Nanny. “They didn’t know to expect us? Didn’t mother send a whirbird?”
“Apparently it slipped her mind.”
Sour tinged the back of Verity’s throat. She wouldn’t have if it were Brittany making the trip.
The woman hurried towards them, bouncing down the steps like an enthusiastic pup and waving a blue and white checkered cloth at them.
Nanny tilted, so she was close to Verity’s ear and spoke with haste. “Keep your belongings shut up tight and your eyes open. Everything is not as it seems here, girl.”
Verity frowned, but before she could ask for clarification, the plump woman had reached them.
“Welcome, welcome! It’s a pleasure to receive such honored guests from-,” she glanced over at the crest on the side of the carriage and smiled even wider, if possible. “Cavill Green, is it? Good heavens, I had no idea we’d be welcoming the uppercrust today. And, Governess Holden. It has been too long since your last visit.”
Nanny bobbed a bit in what might be considered a curtsy if one stretched the imagination. “Good day, Mrs. Haine. May I introduce my charge, Miss Verity Quinn-Pecke, the second daughter of Sir and Lady Cavill.”
Verity saw it, the dimming of the smile, the tiny crease that flickered between the innkeeper’s brows as Nanny said, ‘second daughter.’
She was used to the disappointment most hosts felt when they realized they were entertaining the unimportant daughter. She told herself it didn’t matter. Her fingers twisted in her skirts, and she dipped into a very proper curtsy, then straightened her spine and silently repeated the mantra she used as a shield against the twinge of feeling... less than.
Some day people will snap to attention at the mention of my name, realizing they are in the presence of Somebody. I will make it happen.
“Miss Quinn-Pecke, it’s a pleasure to offer you accommodation.” Mrs. Haine curtsied, recovered, it seemed, from her small disappointment.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m looking forward to seeing the city.”
“It’s your first time there? Heavens, I do hope your mother has set up meetings with the local youth. The city is no place to be without friends!”
“Arrangements have been made,” Nanny said.
“But I’m not without friends at all, ma’am,” Verity said, not wanting to look even more less-than. “My best friend, Winn will be there. Her family owns the Green next to ours, and also the townhouse next to ours in Aethos. So I have connections. Never fear about that.”
“That’s fine, dear.” Mrs. Haine smiled distractedly, then clapped her hands together.
“Winston!” she called over to the barn in a voice that was less sweet and more army general-esque. “We have guests!”
A figure emerged from the barn. The man was impossibly tall and thin, but bent over in a hunch that belied his height. He walked towards them, hitching on his left leg. As he approached, Verity saw with some amazement that the wizened wrinkles on his face created a wood grain pattern along his sunken cheeks and around his dull, dark eyes. His hair was shockingly white and so thin she could see his scalp through the strands.
He stopped by the carriage, but threw an agonized glance towards the well.
Verity followed his gaze, confused. Was he thirsty? Did the innkeeper not care for her staff’s needs as well?
“Winston will see to the horses and carriage.” The gumdrop voice was back. “Will your coachman need a bed as well?”
“No,” Nanny said, to Verity’s surprise. He will stay with the carriage and horses.”
“Very well.”
Was it Verity’s imagination, or did a fleeting frown cross the innkeeper’s face? She made a mental note to keep a sharp eye out in this isolated place.
Mrs. Haine led the way back onto the porch and opened the door, standing aside to admit them first.
Verity glanced over her shoulder as she followed Nanny. Spokes was talking softly to Winston, one hand on his arm. The last thing she noticed as the door swung decisively shut was the horses, normally fractious around people they did not know, standing unusually calm as the tall man reached for their heads.
The inside of the inn was just as neat and tidy as the outside. Large windows that dressed in white cotton curtains tied back with black ribbon on two walls let in a maximum amount of light. The effect was bright and cheerful, if one didn’t count the iron bars bisecting the outside of the glass panes.
White counters and wooden cupboards stained a deep cherry lined other walls, as well as a gray stone hearth. Verity assumed A cauldron bubbled away over the hot coals in a gray stone hearth. Verity hoped it was the source of the stomach rumbling aroma that filled the room. A young girl dressed in the plain dark linen skirt and unadorned apron of a servant was sweeping the wood floors with a rustic straw broom, her face and head covered by a large dingy white bonnet.
“The kitchen and common room on the first floor are open to guests. Make yourself to home,” Mrs. Haine gestured to an open doorway to the left where Verity could see another, larger stone hearth and a table and chairs and a bar with benches. A wide staircase spiraled upwards in the back. “I’ll thank you to leave the other rooms to the family.”
Verity immediately noticed two doors, one off the pantry which probably led to a root cellar, and one other, painted white with blue spirals, behind the bar in the common room. She bit her lip against the need to explore. Manners, Verity. It’s not your home.
“Now, I’m sure you want time to settle in and relax before supper. You can wait by the fire in the common room while Cindy prepares your room.”
Again, the innkeeper’s voice changed to something harsher as she walked back into the kitchen. “Cindy? See to it.”
The girl sweeping flinched, set her broom against the wall, and bobbed a quick, unsteady curtsy. As she came up, her bonnet fell back, giving Verity a clear glimpse of enormous, pale green eyes. Before she could do more than gasp, the girl scurried up the stairs and disappeared.
The common room was dim and quiet. The fire snapped and popped in the hearth. The open windows let in a cool afternoon breeze, which rippled the edges of tapestries depicting scenes of fox hunts and garden parties hung on the cold stone walls.
Verity and Nanny sat in silence for several minutes before Verity cast about for something to say. “Does anyone frequent this place?” she asked. “It seems like a sad place for an inn.”
“People need a safe place to stay on their way through the Wood. The Queen pays Mrs. Haine and her husband handsomely for running this establishment, although it is not polite to speak of it.”
“My friend Winn stayed here once with her family when the airships weren’t running.” Winnifred Goodspeed was Verity’s best friend in the world. They had grown up together, as Winn’s parents were Sir and Lady of Hamill Green, the barony to the east of Cavill Green. She kept Verity apprised of all of her travels, as her parents saw no reason not to bring her and her younger sisters with them, even to Aethos each summer. “She said there’s something funny about the servants.”
“I don’t hold with gossip, miss. Keep your eyes open and form your own opinions, if you please.”
“She wasn’t gossiping. She was giving me the lay of the land. Winn said that-,”
Verity broke off at the sight of the maid from before gesturing from the stairs. The bonnet was back in place.
“I think our rooms are ready.”
Upstairs, Verity was disappointed to discover she and her governess would share one room with bare beige walls and two beds with a small window overlooking the garden between them. On the far wall was a brick fireplace and a closed door. A tray of shortbread cookies, china cups and a squat tea potsat on the round table near the fireplace, which had a pot of warming on a hook. Their trunks were by the foot of each bed, brought up, she assumed, by Spokes.
Cindy gestured towards a door to the right.
“The washroom is through there, should you have need,” she said in a dry and raspy voice. “Missus is expecting you to service before dinner.”
“Service?”
Cindy bobbed her head, not looking up. “In thanks to the Goddess Kahna. Missus is... very devout.”
Verity cocked an eyebrow at Nanny. Sir and Lady Cavill followed the Queen’s religion, which did not include pagan goddesses.
“We will be there. What time?”
Nanny kept surprising her.
“Half past five.” Cindy bobbed again and left.
“They didn’t have another room for you?” Verity asked, setting down her carpetbag.
“It would be unbecoming for me as your chaperon to sleep in another room.” Nanny set her things on her bed and removed her coat.
“Are we really going to a pagan service? Mother would have a cat.”
“As much as I respect your mother as the lady of her household and keep, she does not understand diplomacy in the face of an ever-changing world.” Nanny opened her trunk and pulled out a clean skirt and shirtwaist. “We will attend in honor of our hosts and respectfully keep our opinions on religion buttoned up tight. Now, I suggest you get cleaned up quickly, because we have a lesson in geography to get through before we go down.”
Verity bit back the complaint hovering on her tongue. Protesting never did any good with her stalwart governess. Better to bide her time. Her chance to turn her fortune would come soon enough.
“Do I have time to send a whirbird to Winn in Aethos? I want her to know I’m coming.”
“You can ask Mrs. Haine when we go down to service.”
The goddess service was held outside in the spiral garden. Mrs. Haine presided on one side of a wooden wishing well in the center of the spiral while a skinny old man in homespun and overalls that Verity assumed was Mr. Haine hovered with Winston and Cindy on the other. Both servants stood stiff and hunched. Nanny stood next to Mrs. Haine’s side, and Verity shuffled uncomfortably next to her.
She’d never liked church. Not the dressing up, not the solemn pomp and circumstance of the priest as he droned on in his self-important voice about sin and damnation. Apparently the only way one could save one’s soul for the afterlife was to admit sin and beg forgiveness, things that Verity had never been any good at. So, although being out in the open air on a pleasant day instead of locked up tight in a stuffy prayer room was a step in the right direction, she wasn’t getting her hopes up.
When the large clock mounted upon the face of the barn chimed half past five, Mrs. Haine clapped and held up her hands.
“We welcome guests into our midst, and thank the Earth Goddess Kahna for giving us all that we need to provide them with safety, sustenance, and comfort. The Goddess provides and the Goddess takes away. In order to show her how grateful we are for her benevolence, we perform a simple service each night to honor her. Here we have the Goddess Stone.” With a flourish, Mrs. Haine gestured to a craggy rock about the size of a fist mounted on the front of the well’s peaked roof. “This stone is infused with Goddess Kahna’s energy, because given the chance, it gathers the very earth to itself.”
Verity glanced at Nanny. “That is nothing but a lodestone. Of course it gathers. It’s a ruddy magnet,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
“Hush,” came Nanny’s reply from lips that didn’t move.
Verity bit her tongue as Mrs. Haine waxed on about her benevolent goddess. And when the time came to participate, she did so out of respect and nothing more.
The innkeeper picked up one of several bean-sized, squared off pieces of stone called chits set around the rim of the well and held it to her lips. “Thank you, Goddess, for your gifts and justice. All hail Goddess Kahna.”
She paused, scrunching up her face dramatically, then tossed the stone into the well, where it clinked against the sides before landing in the water with a distant splash. Mrs. Haine giggled and pushed a stone into Verity’s hands. “Go on. You next. You simply make a wish.”
There is no scientific basis for wishes.
She glanced again at Nanny, who gave no indication of her feelings on the matter. She shrugged and tossed the stone in, thinking hard about the Universitarium and feeling a little foolish.
When the splash sounded, Mrs. Haine nodded with satisfaction. “Wonderful! You are sure to have a prosperous trip.”
Nanny followed suit without pause.
Mrs. Haine clapped again. Her voice hardened as she looked at her husband and servants clustered on the other side of the well. “Now the rest.”
Good gad, even the husband looks miserable. What kind of house does this woman run?
Mr. Haine grabbed a chit and tossed it in, then turned and hurried away, muttering something about clogged gutters.
“Cindy.”
The serving girl clenched her hands together tightly, rocking back and forth.
“Now, girl.”
Cindy ducked her head even lower, and the large bonnet swayed as she shook her head side to side. A whimper trembled forth.
“I will not tell you again-,”
“Stop! Can’t you see she doesn’t want to?”
Everyone froze. Mrs. Haine’s freckled face swiveled towards Verity. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back into such a grimace of incredulous horror that Verity unconsciously patted her pocket in search of the prayer beads her priest required for penance back home.
“Excuse me?”
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. No backing down now.
“She doesn’t want to,” Verity repeated. “And anyway, what does throwing a rock in a well have to do with goddesses? Why can’t we just say grace?”
Mrs. Haine did a credible imitation of a landed trout, puffing her cheeks and opening and closing her mouth several times before answering. “Excuse me! How dare you come into my home and criticize the way I honor my goddess?”
“It’s not honor if it hurts someone.”
The innkeeper’s face washed of color, except for a scarlet splotch on either round cheek and her freckles, which stood out in sharp relief against her nose. She turned to Nanny. “Is this what you teach your charges these days? What of manners? What of respect?”
Nanny pressed her lips together, and Verity knew she was sunk. This was the part where apologies were made on her behalf. When she was led from the place in disgrace because she couldn’t bite her tongue like a real lady would. She’d never been out in company with this governess before, but she knew the drill.
Oh, crumbs- is she going to drag me home now?
“It’s true Miss Quinn-Pecke gives her opinion very decidedly. I apologize for her lack of- couth in delicate situations. She is not a worldly creature, this being her first trip out of Cavill Green. But she is an avid learner and loves to question. I do believe the fascination of seeing a service so different from what she has known is overwhelming. She will behave moving forward. Won’t you, Miss?”
Nanny turned her piercing gaze at her and raised one eyebrow. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. Two thoughts were forefront in her mind. Normally she’d be dragged out in disgrace and given a dressing down about what a terrible child she was. But here was Nanny, giving her the opportunity to own up and make good on her mistake. Like she was a young lady and not a child.
However, the injustice of watching poor Cindy forced to do something that obviously disturbed her (what was so disturbing about throwing a rock into a well?) made her stomach burn. She’d never known Nanny to be cruel. Could there be some other way to resolve this?
The desire to be right and the desire to prove she was an adult battled to a swift decision in her mind, with her trust in her governess dealing the winning strike. She turned to Miss Haine and dropped into a curtsy.
“I do apologize. My mouth has run away with me,” she said in a sweet and meek voice that tasted like poison. “It’s just all so new. Please continue.”
Mrs. Haine glared a moment more, before turning back to the well and poor Cindy. “Well?”
The maid rocked again as if getting up the nerve, then took a quick step forward, knocked a chit into the well and ran away.
Winston reached out one long finger and pushed a third chit into the well. He didn’t leave, but remained standing there with his finger on the rim of the well until Mrs. Haine chased him off to do chores.
“Alright, then. Supper in ten minutes in the common room.” Mrs. Haine turned and walked away, leaving Verity and Nanny standing alone by the well.
“That awful woman.”
“Not another word, miss, until we are in the privacy of our room.”
“That was the strangest service I have ever been to,” Verity commented after a moment of strained silence.
Nanny twitched her skirts and turned to follow their host. “Get ready, then. Compared to some things you’ll see in Aethos, this was positively mundane.”
“Really?”
Somewhat cheered at the prospect, Verity decided that keeping a journal like her uncle did in order to keep track of all the things she would experience was a splendid idea. She dutifully followed Nanny back to the house and up the stairs in silence.
The moment the door shut, she started back in.
“How can you just sit back and watch her bully everyone?”
“It is not my place to tell her how to worship.”
“But it is our place to stand up for those oppressed! You saw how upset Winston and Cindy were out there. How can you just stand back and watch? If I had acted as that woman did, you would have had your fan out immediately to insure it never happened again.”
Nanny pulled off her gloves and slapped them on the dresser, her only sign of agitation. “Verity. Please.”
The use of her given name- the first time it had ever crossed Nanny’s lips in her hearing- took the wind out of her sails. The next words left her puzzled and thoughtful.
“I agree that there is injustice in the world. However, when one is faced with a problem, one cannot always run in headfirst with all the grace of a charging bull and expect anything to change. Sometimes a different point of attack is warranted.”
“So... you agree with me?”
“I think that odious woman needs to be taught a lesson about how one treats servants. And husbands.”
“So what do we do?”
“We wait for our moment.” Nanny pulled a pen and paper from her bag and sat at the small table by the fire. “I suggest you write your note to Miss Goodspeed. I happen to have a whirbird in the carriage that will be preceding us to Aethos tonight.”
Dearest Winn,
You’ll never guess where I am right now! I am with Nanny the Fifth in the Centerpoint Inn in the middle of the Tricksy Wood! You were right about that odious innkeeper and her strange husband and servants. Never fear, I believe I have set Nanny on her tail and she is like a hound scenting a rabbit. She will get to the bottom of things, never fear.
We will arrive in Aethos tomorrow afternoon. Can you believe it? We shall finally have a summer in the city together! I can’t wait to see you and even your rambunctious sisters.
Yours in excitement,
Verity