Dark Splendor (4 page)

A cry of admiration came from Silvia’s lips.
She had never dreamed of such elegance. Suspended from the wall on
each side of the foyer were large gilt-and-crystal candelabra. They
were formed of golden snakes, heads carved to hold the candles and
tails twisted together against the leafy design of the base which
fastened to the walls.

Silvia stared questioningly at the woman who
had shown her in. She could not imagine that any place in Europe
could be more beautiful.

A slight, brief smile formed on the other
woman’s thin lips. A look of satisfaction gleamed faintly in her
narrowed eyes as if she were pleased with Silvia’s reaction. A
rustle sounded from her taffeta skirts as she moved to stand in
front of Silvia.

“I am Vivien,” she said. Her eyes were
little black lights set deeply in her face. “Mr. Schlange
instructed me to take you upstairs where you can rest and get
settled.” She started to move away but added briskly, “Mr. Schlange
apologizes but he is ill and cannot greet you himself.”

Silvia lifted her brows sharply and turned
her attention to Vivien at that pronouncement.

“I trust his illness is not serious,” she
stated, the concern showing in her eyes as they met Vivien’s.

Now that they were near the stairs and in
the full flood of light, Silvia noted the pale contrast of Vivien’s
skin with the darkness of her hair. She wore it tight against her
scalp and fashioned into a ball neatly covered with a black mesh at
the back of her head. Her simply styled dress was of a green color
so dark as to be almost black. With it she wore a crimson rope, a
sort of belt, around her waist, and from the jangle when she
walked, Silvia thought it must hold a number of keys which were
hidden in her pocket.

“Mr. Schlange is old and tires easily,”
Vivien responded as they stood at the foot of the stairs. She
paused. “And all must wait until he is strong again.”

Silvia waited, expecting Vivien to explain
what all must wait for, but was disappointed when instead the woman
spun around and began to climb the stairs. Silvia quickly followed,
her mind filled with unanswered questions. Who was Vivien and what
was her position? Perhaps she should ask, she thought
reflectively.

She had climbed only three or four steps
when she caught a glimpse of someone in a room that opened off the
foyer. His back was to her, but instantly she knew the sweep of his
broad shoulders, the aloofness of his carriage. Roman Toller.

Her body stiffened in shock, but not before
a sound of surprise escaped her lips.

“You!” she cried out.

He spun around at the sound of her voice.
For a moment they stared blatantly at each other, until, to her
dismay, she felt his glare was burning through her flesh and
setting her blood aflame.

Morgan Toller appeared at his side and
nodded politely. Silvia barely noticed him. She could not break
away from Roman’s piercing blue eyes, which seemed to drink her up
until she felt she would be consumed like a glass of wine.

Jauntily he tilted his head to one side and
slowly raised an eyebrow. Silvia grabbed at the rail, her hand
lingering a moment too long in the air before she found it and
turned away. She looked up to see Vivien, like a black-swathed
Harpy, watching her curiously from the landing.

“Come along,” Vivien’s husky voice called
impatiently.

Disconcerted, Silvia caught up her skirts
and hurried up the stairs at a dangerous pace. She arrived at the
landing breathless, her senses dizzied. She was shaken by the run
of emotions sweeping her mind and by the fact that Roman Toller was
at Serpent Tree Hall. Her brows drew together in an agonized
expression. She could not deny she was as much thrilled as
perplexed to see him again.

Vivien gave her no time for introspection
but quickly led her to a door halfway down the long hall. Here the
walls were of the same gray stone as the exterior of the castle. A
short distance away another hall joined the one in which they
stood. The rooms were laid out so that it was possible to go in
either direction from the staircase and still reach each room.
Dozens of candles set in sconces attached to the walls lit the long
passageways.

Vivien removed a set of keys from her
pocket, and finding the one to fit the door, inserted it in the
lock. When the door was open, she took a taper from the hall and
led the way inside. Shortly she had lit several candles around the
room.

The soft candlelight spilled warm light over
the interior. Silvia’s eyebrows rose in amazement and her breath
caught in her throat at the sight of the dark splendor and beauty.
It was no less impressive than the marble foyer. Stunned, she spun
about, taking it all in, until slowly it dawned on her that Vivien
was speaking.

“It is the Emerald Suite, Mr. Schlange’s
favorite. He had it made ready for you weeks ago.”

Still the room held her interest much more
than what Vivien was saying. The spacious sitting room was done
entirely in rich green. It gave her the strange feeling of being
underwater. The furnishings, a settee and several chairs, were
covered with a silk brocade. A small gilt table and a desk sat at
one side. On the walls were Chinese scrolls delicately painted in a
lovely Oriental design.

Vivien opened double doors that led to a
huge bedroom where the walls were hung with green velvet fabric
intricately embroidered with gold thread. A canopied bed draped
with velvet curtains of the same fabric was covered with a silk
spread of a paler shade. The dressing table had an enameled dresser
set and lovely crystal bottles filled with perfumes. Silvia touched
them all, lifting the glass tops and filling the room with the
wonderful scents. Across the room rested an armoire fully six feet
wide and painted with delicate yellow flowers.

Opening still another door, Vivien showed
Silvia a small dressing room which contained a foot tub and
toiletries.

“It’s beautiful, as beautiful as anything
I’ve ever seen,” Silvia whispered, her hands outspread in disbelief
as she tried to comprehend. “But there must be a mistake. This
can’t be for me, a bond servant.”

Vivien faced her again, her bony jaw stiff.
“Mr. Schlange makes no mistakes. He ordered these rooms prepared
for you, Miss Bradstreet.” Her reply held a trace of sharpness.
With a swishing of her skirts, she crossed the bedroom to the wide
windows at one side and drew back the curtains a bit. “In the
morning you will be able to see the courtyard and the gardens.” She
opened the windows and a crisp breeze floated through the room.

“You are surely tired from your journey.
I’ll have the maid bring water for a bath and then your dinner on a
tray.”

“I’ll need my bag.” Silvia said weakly,
still unable to comprehend that the rooms were for her.

“Have you any personal items other than
clothing in the bag?” Vivien inquired, standing straight and still
in front of the windows.

“My papers and some coins,” Silvia replied,
puzzled.

“They will be returned to you. Mr. Schlange
asks that you wear the clothes he has provided. I will have your
bag stored downstairs.” She swept across the floor to the armoire
and unfastened the brass latch.

“Of course,” Silvia replied weakly,
wondering if Mr. Schlange would want her to wear a uniform. If so
she trusted the garments would be better suited to the climate than
her own.

Vivien swung open both doors of the armoire
to expose dozens of gowns hanging inside. Blue ones, pink ones,
lavender and patterned ones, all of silk and linen and fine cotton.
The gaunt woman lifted out several at once and held them for Silvia
to see.

A small cry escaped her lips as her mouth
dropped open.

The first gown Vivien presented was of light
blue watered silk trimmed with narrow bands of delicate lace and
silver buttons on the bodice. But as Vivien pulled out more gowns,
it seemed each was more beautiful than the one before.

“Mr. Schlange was not certain of the size,
but they will be fitted for you.” Vivien’s dark eyes were
expressionless again, yet there was nothing servile about her and
again Silvia questioned the woman’s position in the household. “The
shoes, he bought in several sizes,” Vivien added flatly, pointing
to the floor of the armoire, where numerous pairs of slippers
rested. “There should be some that will fit.”

Silvia’s eyes were wide in astonishment and
her lower lip trembled uncontrollably. Her mind was reeling like a
spinning top. Mystified at all being offered to her, she was
convinced Vivien had made a mistake.

“Vivien,” Silvia said, trying to control the
quiver in her voice. “Surely you expected someone else. I am Silvia
Bradstreet, a bond servant.”

Vivien lifted her thin black brows. “There
is no mistake. You are the one expected.” She spoke as if Silvia
were a thing rather than a person, and her icy tone confused
Silvia. Vivien moved like a shadow across the floor. “The rooms are
for you, as are the gowns and all other things in this suite. Use
them. Wear them. It is what Mr. Schlange wishes.”

“But what am I to do? What does he want from
me?” Silvia’s knees felt weak and she knew she needed to sit down.
What manner of man was Mr. Schlange?

“Use what has been provided, Miss
Bradstreet. That will make Mr. Schlange happy.” Vivien opened a
drawer of the dressing table. “You will find your nightclothes
here.” She returned to the armoire and withdrew a scarlet silk
dressing gown and the blue silk dress. The dressing gown she laid
on the bed. “Anna will prepare your bath and bring your dinner when
you have bathed and dressed.” Turning, Vivien pulled a tasseled
rope and drew aside one of the velvet wall hangings. Behind it was
a door which led to the hall. “Tomorrow at breakfast you will meet
the others,” she said. “Good night, Miss Bradstreet.”

The others? Silvia sank weakly onto the
silken cushions of a lounge chair beside the dressing table. Of
course there would be others. Wilhelm Schlange would not live alone
in such a large and elegant place. But who were the others? Roman
Toller was obviously one of them. Looking at the thin scarlet
dressing gown, Silvia realized Wilhelm Schlange had a most definite
purpose for her. But was it the same purpose she had envisioned
when seeking escape from her drunken Uncle Hollister?

It was only after Silvia had locked the
bedroom door when Anna took her dinner tray away that she felt free
to explore the suite completely. The dressing room had a light
green wallpaper with a leaf design and stacks of snowy linen towels
all embroidered with an S. The letter was actually a serpent looped
in an S shape. While Anna attended her she had asked a hundred
questions but the only one she had received a straight answer about
was the monogram.

A plump middle-aged woman with round, rosy
cheeks, Anna looked as if she were the sort who babbled
incessantly. But tonight she had been far from talkative and seemed
almost to bite her tongue to stay mum at Silvia’s questioning.
However, the subject of snakes seemed to be a matter she could not
keep quiet about.

“It’s ‘is name, you know.
Schlange
’s
the German word but it’s
serpent
in the King’s English.
Snakes, I call ‘em.” Anna had rolled her round eyes and paused as
she poured another bucket of hot water in the bathtub. “They’re all
over the house, on the linens, in the candlesticks. ‘E’s even got
‘em on the door handles. There’s one on the weather vane over the
kitchen and everywhere else you can think.” She shook her round
little head in dismay. “Sometimes it seems the whole bloomin’ house
is crawling with snakes.” Anna set the bucket down and clutched the
carved wooden crucifix she wore on a cord around her neck. “Evil
creatures, they are.”

Anna’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling when
she mentioned the snakes, and as she talked, her cheeks grew
redder. The woman was a head shorter than Silvia and nearly as
round as she was tall. Her hair, hardly visible beneath her
starched white cap, appeared to be a light brown. The fact that she
wore a cap and a starched white apron over her plain gray dress led
Silvia to more speculation about the elegant wardrobe Vivien had
insisted was for her. If the servants wore simple uniforms, then it
made no sense at all that she should have those lovely gowns.

A long sigh escaped from her lips as she
stepped into the bath. The minute she felt the soothing warmth on
her tired limbs, she forgot all her concerns. She thought of
nothing beyond the fragrant caress of the water washing away salt
spray that had seemed to stick to her skin since the ship left
London. A bath had become a forgotten luxury and one she had
missed. For nearly an hour she soaked peacefully while Anna kept
her supplied with hot, steaming water.

It had been divine, soap scented with
lavender and sweet oils and perfumes to use when she had dried
herself. Anna had treated her like royalty though she had been
disinclined to answer any questions about Mr. Schlange.

And when she was gone, Silvia found a silk
nightgown more beautiful than any dress she had ever owned. She
slipped the gown over her head, feeling the gossamer fabric caress
her skin as it cascaded over her body. The sheer white fabric
shimmered against her like silken threads spun by a spider. Tiny
scarlet rosebuds made of satin embellished the bodice and a scarlet
ribbon tied in front, gathering the neckline in soft folds over her
shoulders.

Silvia smiled languorously and spun around
in front of a tall mirror with an ornate mahogany frame inlaid with
ivory-and-silver cherubs.

The girl she saw looked more like a princess
than a servant, and in spite of her reservations her smile widened
as a look of delight lit her face. Swinging the flared skirt of her
gown, she danced into the sitting room, trying out each chair. She
opened drawers of the desk and found them empty except for ink and
quills and a supply of paper. Her fingers touched each piece of
furniture, the tapestries and wall hangings, and then she curled up
in an armchair to study the painted panels of the ceiling.