The Garden of Darkness

Clare raised an eyebrow at Jem. Ramah sighed.

While they waited for Fran, Britta questioned them, and the story of their journey began to emerge. Clare noticed how careful Jem was to leave certain things out. He never mentioned Mirri and Sarai. He even left out Sheba.

The rooms were the real issue. Britta insisted that they be separated.

“Just during sleeping hours,” said Doug. He glanced at Britta, and she nodded.

“I don’t think so,” said Clare.

“The rules of Ingathering are for everyone,” said Britta.

“’Ingathering’ again,” said Ramah under her breath.

“You need us.” Britta’s tone was icy.

“You need us, too,” said Ramah. “I just haven’t figured out why.”

“I don’t know, Britta,” said Doug. “What harm could it do if they share a room?”

“We’re not having sex,” Ramah said coolly. “If that’s the problem.”

Clare was embarrassed, and Jem blushed so very deeply that she worried for a moment that he was ill.

“It isn’t worth arguing,” said Britta. “Doug, get Fran and tell her to hurry. She’ll get them settled. We have to monitor the others.”

“‘Monitor,’” sighed Ramah.

When Fran arrived, Clare saw that she was the sharp-faced girl who had reminded her of Laura Sparks.

“Put them in the tapestry room on the second floor,” said Britta. “It’s plenty big for three. But no dog.”

“That won’t work,” said Clare.

Bear walked up to Britta, and Britta backed up very quickly as he tried to sniff her.

“Then take the dog,” she said. “But Master’ll want it leashed.”

Fran led them up a staircase with a peculiar banister: at its base, the wood was sculpted into a leering gargoyle; at the top, it ended in the face of a man with vines coming out of his mouth.

“The green man,” said Clare.

Fran took them part way down a long hall.

“Here you are,” she said. “Get settled in and get cleaned up. The bathroom’s first door on the left. Come down in a couple of hours for dinner, if not before. Everyone’s going to want to hear your story.” Then she left.

Forty minutes later, the three of them were clean and warm. The hot three-bucket shower had been magnificent, and Clare had washed her hair with real shampoo.

They explored their room. Two tapestries hung on the wall. The titles were underneath: ‘Diana and the Hunt’ and ‘A Royal Picnic.’ Clare looked closely at the Diana, but she seemed a little solid for the part. Ramah would have been an infinitely better model for the weaver.

Jem lifted the tapestries and looked behind.

“This isn’t The Secret Garden,” said Clare. “You’re not going to find a door.”

“Maybe not,” said Jem. “But you do have to admit, this place looks like something out of The Secret Garden.”

There was a big four-poster bed with a canopy and a smaller bed with a sleigh headboard on which was painted a tiny sailing ship in a stormy sea. They were near the top of the house, and the window looked out over a great green lawn.

“Let’s take a look around before we go down,” said Jem.

“I think that counts as prowling,” Clare said.

“Yes. Let’s prowl. If we run into Britta, we’ll say we’re lost.”

“I vote for prowling, too,” said Ramah.

“I just hope we don’t find anything awful,” said Clare, “before I have another shower.”

They wandered down the hallways and tried the doors they came to. All were unlocked. Most of them led to bedrooms of no interest.

“They’re not big on personal belongings,” said Ramah. “Have you noticed? No photos. No jewelry.”

While they were exploring the upper rooms, they ran into Dante. His hair was wet, and he had changed his clothes.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m clean.”

“We’re looking for skeletons in closets,” said Jem.

“You won’t find any,” said Dante. He hesitated. “But can I help you look? Britta never lets us poke around.”

They found linen closets, and closets filled with mops and brooms, and chests full of blankets and quilts and rooms full of old pieces of furniture. One room had a sewing machine in it with a supply of sewing equipment: scissors, straight pins, bobbins, knitting needles and plenty of things that Clare couldn’t put a name to.

“Kelly would have loved this,” said Dante. “Kelly was my mother. She knew how to sew. She made quilts.”

They tried more doors, but, except for the occasional tapestry or painting, the rooms were uniformly dull.

“Ramah’s right,” said Jem. “There should be more personal stuff. I thought the house would be full of stuffed animals and mementos of parents and things like that.”

“‘The old world’s gone,’” said Dante. “‘The past is dead.’”

“You’re quoting someone,” said Clare.

“Master.”

“Look,” said Clare. “We just want to get the cure and leave. That’s all. We want to go home.”

“You’ll have to talk to Master,” said Dante.