Chapter 2
Nathalie was horrified by the size of the huge manor with its high gray outer wall looming ominously before her. She had lived beneath the shadow of this monolith all of her life, but she had never been up the mountain to approach it on its own terms. The prospect was frightening. The old man had climbed down from the carriage to ring the bell, and Nathalie sat looking up at the tremendous doors that were barring their path. Then a small wicket within the massive gates opened and the doorkeeper peered cautiously out at them.
"This the girl?" he asked.
"Ja," answered the old man.
"Wait here," he was told. "I shall fetch men to unload you."
The little door closed and the old man frowned. All of the servants within were total strangers in the village save for an old close-mouthed crone who did the shopping, and several foreign-looking men that went about their business with never a word or greeting to anyone. No one from the village had ever gotten past the main gate. Every time a newcomer arrived and was carried to the door, they were never seen in the village again. It was as though they were swallowed by the massive mound of masonry.
Papa Henrik shook himself, driving the black thoughts from his mind. The circumstances alone were enough to cause the ominous gossip that had always surrounded the manor. There was probably not a word of truth to any of it. The very fact that no one had cracked the impenetrable wall of security was proof enough that they could know nothing of the goings on within. He was beginning to feel better when the little door again opened and four strapping young men scurried out to unload the cart. With a jerk of the head, they motioned Nathalie to follow and the door closed sharply behind her, leaving the old man alone with his cart.
"Come see me!" he called after the girl, but he doubted that she could hear.
In point of fact, Nathalie did not hear. As she stepped into the slate courtyard, the immensity of the inner buildings rising loftily about her cowed her completely. It was like a small city, so huge were the dimensions and so haphazardly were the buildings arranged. There were low, flat stables and work rooms next to turrets that rose perhaps a hundred feet into the air. There were round buildings and square buildings with jutting protrudents at the oddest places.
Everything was built of the same gray stone, and though the outer walls and the main house were very old, other portions seemed to still be under construction.
Nathalie had to be reminded several times to follow her guides, so engrossed did she become with various curiosities. Finally, she entered the main building and was led up a series of stairs to a room on the fifth or sixth level, she could not be sure which.
How pleasant, she thought, finding herself in a cozy turret room with a friendly fire already burning in the hearth. She slipped out of her cape and, once the men were gone, gave the room a thorough inspection. Though it seemed snug and homelike, it was some bit larger than the entire cottage used for the parsonage. Had she not been so recently bereaved, she certainly would have been in a buoyant mood. As it was, she at least felt better.
Her window overlooked the whole of the valley below, and she watched as old Papa Henrik rode the twisting trail down the side of the mountain in his empty cart. So hypnotized did she become, watching the old man's tortured progress, she did not hear the door open.
"Now let us look at you, child," came a low, feminine voice, and Nathalie jerked about to see both Sara and Arne Bjornson standing by the hearth.
"Come here, Nathalie," Arne said, and she quickly obliged.
The long-limbed woman shook her head and sighed.
"What a neglected flower," she told her husband. "The basic material is adequate, but it will take a good deal of labor."
Arne smiled. "A labor I am sure you will enjoy thoroughly, my dear," he said with a touch of irony.
Nathalie did not understand a word, but the total effect sounded alarming to say the least.
"I thank you for your magnanimous gesture," she said. "I should like work to do about the place, if you please. I am most handy in the kitchen."
"That would be a disastrous waste," the man said. "I intend to occupy some of your time usefully, but I have something far more suitable for your talents than working in a kitchen. You appear to have a way with animals. I would like you to help me train my brutish little beasties."
"The dogs?" Nathalie asked. "I should like that very much, sir."
"Fine. Then you may come along with me now, it you are settled."
"Certainly," she answered, snatching up her cape.
"Just one moment," Sara said coolly. "Come here, child. Do not be afraid. I shall not bite you . . . yet."
Arne laughed as Nathalie steeled herself to approach the large woman. Sara reached out and jerked the bone stays from her knotted bun and the hair fell down, cascading across her shoulders and tumbling to her thighs.
Nathalie's hands flew to her head, trying to shield herself from their view.
"Ahhhhh," sighed the woman. "Lovely, is she not? It is amazing how loose hair can soften the face. I do not want to see this hair pinned up again, young lady. I shall just take these stays along so that you will not be tempted."
Nathalie's cheeks were crimson with embarrassment. It was like being caught in one's nightwear to go about with the hair exposed.
"Please," she pleaded, "I could not bear to go about in this condition."
"You will bear it. . . and like it, I dare say," the woman answered curtly, and without further argument, she turned and left the room.
"She is right," Arne said, and his smallish eyes were mere slits as he grinned at her. "Come along. Let us go visit my pets."