Our former footman-turned-maintenance person, Benjamin “Benny” Hudson, was waiting for me on the platform ready to drive me to the house. He was a short, heavy-set, spectacled man in his sixties with a very friendly wrinkled face. It was almost midnight when I saw the dark silhouette of our family nest with only two lit windows on the second floor – the guest room I was going to stay in.
Maple Grove House was a red brick Georgian style stately country house that had three floors. It was of simple rectangular form, with harmonious symmetry, sash windows and a central doorway. There were some smaller buildings behind the house – former stables, a carriage room, and a few cottages where the servants used to live. The house was set in grounds of almost five hundred acres, which also included a stream and a closed pig farm, but most of which was covered by the park with old fields of maples and oaks. There was a big old maple tree in a round clearing, right in front of the house that Charlie and I used to call The Giant. Its girth was more than two meters, and it was a great spot for hiding. When I was about five, my grandmother Anna told me that there was a large talking cat living in the tree that could tell fairy tales. I tried to find it on numerous occasions, hiding in various locations in order not to spook him. Later I learned that it had been a hoax created by Anna to make sure I’d spend more time in the fresh air.
Harry appeared at the main door as soon as our car pulled up.
“I expect your trip was pleasant, sir,” he said stepping out from the darkness of the hall.
“It was good, Harry,” I said, trying to sound cheery. “How have you been? Still in shape, I see.”
“Life has been kind to me, sir. Thank you. No luggage?”
I only had the bag with Charlie’s shirt with me. “It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”
Before we stepped into the house, Benny turned on some lights in the hall and I couldn’t help but notice the bareness of the once opulent entryway. The slightly lighter squares on the brick walls and wooden panels indicated where the pictures were when the house was full of life.
“Would you like something to eat, sir?” Harry asked. “I’m sure we can even find some refreshments.”
“I’d have a glass of single malt if you can manage to find that.”
“Certainly, sir,” Harry said as we were walking through the hall. “Would you like me to serve it in the library, sir?”
“Oh gosh, does it still have furniture?”
“Well, we keep a few chairs and the table there, just in case.”
“Good man,” I said, contemplating where I should go. “Let’s see the old place. Why not?”
Harry and Benny went downstairs to the kitchen, and I continued to the library. I needed a few moments on my own before proceeding with the plan I didn’t have yet. I was hoping that the magic power of whiskey would show me the way and relax me a bit. Besides, I still had a bit of Ching left. I thought I could give my weary brain one more boost for another hour.
I looked at the empty bookshelves that used to be filled with the leather backs of hundreds of folios collected by my predecessors. Some of those had to be sold at closed auctions to keep the family afloat. No one had to know that the collection was getting smaller.
I noticed our old taxidermy fox still standing by the fireplace. James’s father, Richard Harding, had given it to my father as a gift about thirty years ago. It had a secret compartment inside, just big enough to hide a bottle of whisky—something Richard often did because his wife, Margaret, was rather strict about alcohol. We used to stash presents and snacks in it. Now, it seemed nobody had any use for this old bit of fur, and it was destined to be devoured by moths.
Looking around, I wondered if speaking loudly in here would produce an echo. I didn’t test my theory and instead went straight to the red leather armchairs still positioned by the fireplace and sat down. I tried to recall the conclusion of my conversation with Jared back at the pub.
***
“We looked everywhere,” I said to Jared. “I believe there was no stone left unturned in the search for my little brother.”
“Right,” Jared said and chewed on his upper lip.
The pause was getting a bit too long, and the silence was calling either for another round or for the meeting to be adjourned.
“Well, thank you for giving the shirt back,” I said finally.
“You bet.” Jared stood up and pressed a few buttons on his phone.
I also stood up and felt that I’d had just about the right amount of alcohol. I waved to Hugh to come and give us the check. He understood me but gestured that there was no need.
“Don’t worry about that,” Jared said. “My treat.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Jared waved to Hugh, and we walked out of the bar. It was chilly, but I found it refreshing and congratulated myself for wearing the jacket. Jared’s car, a big black SUV, was parked right outside and Freddy was standing near it, ready to open the passenger door.
“Do you need a ride?” Jared asked. “Freddy will take you anywhere you want.”
I felt that I’d had enough of Jared and his people for one evening. “I’m good.”
“Cool,” Jared said and turned to Freddy. “I’ll walk to the office, Freddy.”
Freddy nodded, walked around the car, and got in.
“Listen Alex,” Jared started. “I didn’t mean to stir up the past with all those questions back there. I was fascinated with your family once and I guess I got carried away with my nostalgia a bit.”
“No worries,” I said, feeling surprised at this sudden correctness.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll have my people contact you about the proposal in a day or two.”
“Thank you, Jared,” I said and felt that it would be better not to push my luck by asking if I’d got it.
***
I was deep in my thoughts when Harry appeared with my drink on a tray.
“Cheers,” I said taking the drink and getting the first sip. “Wow, how can we possibly still have this in the house, Harry?”
It was The Balvenie, the Scotch my family had been buying since the distillery began production all the way back in the nineteenth century. All the men in my family had preferred it to any other whisky. I was certain we had emptied our cellar when we moved to France.
“I kept a few bottles, just in case, sir,” Harry said.
“Good man.”
Suddenly, I felt at home and at ease enough to take my business a step further.
“So, the foxy is still here, huh?” I asked and pointed to the thing with my index finger because other fingers were busy holding the glass.
“It is, sir,” he said. “Would you like us to put it down in the basement?”
“Nah, keep it here where it belongs,” I said taking a sip. “I say, Harry, do you remember the old pirate chest we kept in the attic?”
“I do, sir. We moved it together with all the other old furniture to the cellars.”
“I’d like to take a look at it if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all, sir. I’ll have Benny fetch the keys and open the basement for you. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No need. Benny’ll do just fine. I’ll just finish my drink and meet him in the hall in, say, ten minutes.”
“Very good, sir,” Harry said and left the library thoughtfully leaving the tray with the crystal whiskey pitcher on the table.
All right. The wheels were in motion, so to speak. I would have one more drink and then I’d be ready to see it. One more drink.
***
We had a large basement under Maple Grove House. It matched the floor space of the levels above. Since it supported the weight of the house, its walls were built to extend the foundations, making them much thicker than the walls above. There were two entrances: one from inside the house, from the kitchen, and one from the backyard. Both led to passageways with storage spaces, wine and whisky cellars, and pantries on either side.
The basement had a secret exit, disguised as a dead-end, next to the farthest cellar, which led into the escape tunnel. Ezekiel Montague had included this in the design of the house in case he needed to flee the property. The exit was hidden in a maple grove about fifty meters from the house. That led us, the descendants, to believe that he still had a few skeletons in his closet that had been troubling him.
Over the years, the tunnel proved to be an extremely useful addition for those who knew where the exit (or entrance) was and wished to enter the house unnoticed. These were mostly male family members returning from some debauchery late at night. In fact, it got so out of hand that at some point, my great-grandfather ordered it to be sealed. After that, no one used the tunnel much – well, no one who didn’t want to be seen using it.
The basement was off-limits to us when we were children, but we managed to sneak in from time to time, with the staff who were down there getting groceries from the pantries, fetching old and dusty wine bottles from the cellars, or moving ancient items from one storage area to another.
I was following Benny through the kitchen to the basement door and my heart started to beat faster. I tried not to think what I might see down there, but I was determined to get this crazy thing over with as soon as possible.
“How long have you been working here, Benny?” I asked just to fill the silence with some chat.
“Going on twenty-seven years, sir,” he said, opening the door and entering the basement.
“Gosh, has it been that long?” I asked, following him down the stairs.
“Time flies, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does.”
We passed a couple of storage spaces on the left side and former pantries on the right when Benny turned right around a corner.
“I thought that was the storage.” I pointed to the massive wooden door on the left, farther down the corridor.
“Oh, that’s a wine cellar and we had to lock it up a long time ago because of the rats if I remember correctly. Some of those furry bastards, pardon my language, died in there. The smell was unbearable. We threw some chemicals in and sealed the door,” Benny said. “I don’t reckon we’ve opened it ever since.”
One of the footmen had explained to me at the time which storage area they had put the chest in, and I had made one attempt to get to it after it was moved down here to get my stuff out, but they told me to wait until the rodent problem got resolved. Later, we were too busy searching for Charlie, and I had neither the time nor opportunity to come down here again.
We approached another door, and he opened it with one of the countless keys on the huge ring he was carrying.
“Here we are,” he said. “Let me switch on the light.”
When the light was on, I found myself in a room full of countless things covered with dust that had clearly been here for a long time.
“The chest’s right there,” Benny said and pointed to the corner. It was the chest all right.
“Do you mind if I look around here myself, Benny?”
“No problem, sir. I’ll just be around the corner.”
After he left, I came closer to the chest. There was no lock on it. I opened it.
It was empty.
My knees became weak, and I had to find something to sit on. Luckily, there was a cardboard box next to the chest that looked sturdy enough to bear my weight. It was also dusty, but I didn’t care. I sat down and tried to breathe evenly. I didn’t want Benny to see me getting emotional over nothing.
How could I fall for that? My brother couldn’t possibly have been in that thing. I was so stupid for coming all the way to this place. Was this all because of “the lack of closure on Charlie’s disappearance,” as my therapist had once put it? My family and I had always hoped that one day we would see him again or, at least, know his fate. Hope was a dangerous thing. It could drive a person mad.
Once I was able to gather my wits, I began to think. What had happened to my stash? It couldn’t have just evaporated along with the bag it was in. Had the staff over time helped themselves to some recreational drugs at my expense? Perhaps it had been the rodents that got to it after all. Well, I hoped those furry bastards, as Benny had so eloquently put it, had died high.