I hope you all had a good day. I know it’s a little late, but I wasn’t very organized this week. I have one of my best friends Tiffany from Alphabeticality here who came through with this amazing post. It’s a small portion of a possible longer story. Let’s welcome her back to Takeover Thursdays.
All mentions of names and places are fiction and made up!
Heavy droplets of rain fell from dark grey skies. A woman of medium height stalked her way through fancy cars and couples in expensive clothing. Almost everyone had a large umbrella shielding him or her from the rain. This woman, however, wore a long, waterproof coat. Rain slid off her as she wove through to the entrance of the castle. She fell into line behind two couples. Soon it was her turn.
“Invitation please”, said the man to her. He had his blonde hair slicked to one side. He wore all black, like all the staff would be tonight.
“Of course”, the woman said in a low voice. She reached into her coat with gloved hands and flipped open the clasp to her evening bag. She located her invitation, a golden card encased in a plain black envelope. The man took it from her and scanned it with a reader connected to an iPhone.
“Thank you, Miss. Ivers. Coat check is to your left. Enjoy your evening here at Castle Dune”, he said to her, no doubt repeating the same words for all the other guests. She nodded in thanks and wordlessly stepped into the grand foyer of the castle.
Castle Dune has been part of the Rosethorn family for over six generations. The current owner, Nicholas Rosethorn, only recently inherited the castle after the untimely death of his father, Eugene. There had been speculations as to what happened to him. Some believed Eugene had discovered hedonistic swinger parties and sexed his way to death. Others believed him to have dealings with the Russian mafia and a hit was put out for him. Regardless of it all, Nicholas kept a tight leash on his family’s privacy. It’s has been well over six months, and the public only knew of Eugene Rosethorn’s death as “age-related”.
Upon entering Castle Dune, one is graced by the double column of metal knights standing at attention. The main hall eventually leads to the grand foyer and staircase. On the right of the grand foyer is the ballroom, a room that once was a large guest receiving room. It was Nicholas’s grandfather that converted the large open space into a ballroom. On the left of the foyer is a smaller receiving room, or a study, that was once used for more informal meetings. Today it is filled with rows of coat hangers and attendants.
The woman had since shaken off her coat and stood in silent awe as classical music twirled around her. Amber light filtered the entire grand foyer, giving it a romantic feel. She felt slightly warm as well. Looking up she saw that the chandelier rose about fifteen feet up into the air, about a hundred amber bulbs bathing the space in soft light.
Snapping herself out of the trance, she took small steps towards the coat check. Her heels clicked on the marble floor. She saw a small crowd gathering around the doors of the room, no doubt guests of the party waiting for their items to be put away. She went straight to an attendant.
“Excuse me, I have terrible motion sickness and I really need to get to a bathroom right now”, she said to the young woman in black. Immediately the woman’s mouth fell open.
“Oh, please…right this way. There’s a private powder room”, she said quickly. The attendant led her down a hallway with multiple doors. Opening one for her, she stepped to the side, a look of pity on her face.
“Thanks”, she said and shut the door quickly behind her as if she was desperate for discomfort. Her ruse over, she threw her coat down at a plush velvet chair and regarded her appearance. In the high mirror over the gilded sink, she looked at her reflection. “Okay, hair is still good. Hm…mascara is running a bit…”, she murmured to herself. She grabbed a napkin out of its holder and quickly swiped away the shadow below her eyes. Stepping back, she straightened her black evening gown.
Although she’s at a formal party, she had to opt for a less attention-grabbing dress. She found the dress in a vintage store in New York City years ago. She was surprised when she still fit the dress. She silently thanked the fashion gods for slinky dress material. With a model V-neck to it, the dress flattered her chest and hugged her curves in the right way. However, she would have really enjoyed wearing a glittery number. There would be another place and time for that since tonight she had work to do.
Grabbing her small evening bag, she procured a lipstick and compact. She slid the top off the lipstick. Usually one would find a shade of red or pink, but she had a set of small lock picks in its place. Her compact held a sequence scrambler in case the young Rosethorn decided to amp up the security of his near-thousand year home. It was very useful in breaking into electronic security for doors and safes. Both items were placed back into her bag. Last thing she did was pull up the length of her dress to reveal a small five inch blade strapped in her inner thigh. Guns were loud and attract attention. Although she’s never had to use her knife to do any sort of human maiming, she sent a silent prayer to any god listening that she would forgo the uses of it yet again.
After her check of her equipment was done, she hid her coat in one of the compartments in the powder room. She sincerely hoped no one would discover the secret location of it. Most women used powder rooms for privacy and to retouch makeup. She’s quite sure no one would go about flipping through the cupboards of one. Letting out a sigh, she twisted the knob of the small room and walked out with a slight slouch. The attendant was nowhere to be seen.
“Time to steal a book…..”, she said.
P.S. Tiffany has the continuation on her blog just click this link Second Part.
I hope you all enjoyed this post. I know I did. I just want to take this moment to thank Tiffany for guest posting today and I’m sure she will do it again.