Grey Chapter 2

Grey: Chapter 2 The Court of Airs.

A short summary first.

This is one of the ideas I have, read the chapter to find out. This is just an idea mind you, I have one other inheritance that might be better for the character, I'm considering it. Anyways, thank you for reading. I appreciate your reviews.


Mr. Alexander stood within the massive oak doors of the Court of Airs, that pomp and haughty place where vanity reigned and opulence was a basic necessity. He was almost choked by the strong smells of expensive perfumes and spices when the door opened. However, he needed to keep his dignity about him and did his best to let sensory adaptation take its course; soon he wouldn’t be able to smell the place at all, he hoped.

Damien walked into the main reception hall and glanced around, waiting. It was a very busy place and servants, bankers, attendants, and messengers were everywhere to be seen. Presently a peculiar little man in a French gentleman’s outfit appeared at the top of the steps and greeted him cheerily. His sky blue suit was vibrant against the dark mahogany wood of the staircase, and the gold trim accentuated his pompous manner. White ruffles cascaded down his barreled, rotund chest. Mr. Alexander wondered at this particular style, how very peculiar.

The man was short and rotund, and seemed to be taller sideways than he was vertically. It was all quite overwhelming for Mr. Alexander at first. He struggled to keep his thoughts about him as his senses bombarded him with smells and sights; sounds too, oh the sounds! Music, chatter, dancing, scurrying feet, he could hear them all.

The man bounded down the steps excitedly towards Mr. Alexander with a grin the size of all of Greenwich painted on his corpulent face. The man’s face had a jovial youth that could be compared to a baby’s, aside from the adulthood of his eyes that twinkled with mischief. He carried himself, very portentously obviously used to his fine life style. This man was French no doubt by the oddness of his dress, but such styles were the new trends Mr. Alexander assumed.

Mr. Alexander thought the man might stumble down the steps and roll all the way to the front door, but he came down with an odd and unanticipated grace. His wide grin showed large, thick teeth, slightly yellow, no doubt stained from tobacco. His beady eyes seemed to look everywhere and at everything, and his powdered wig was absolutely alabaster in color and almost as tall as the man himself. He bobbed a little at the top of the third step, pausing, to make a grandiose descent the rest of the way. Finally gliding down the final step in his odd manner of carrying himself, the little man introduced himself. “Mr. Damien Alexander, I presume. Very punctual indeed.”

“I do try to be on time to my appointments yes, thank you,” Mr. Alexander said. “Mr.…,” He hadn’t gotten the man’s name yet.

“Ahh, it is so very rude of me. My name is Le Comte Lafayette de la Brier Arminrosa de Melayette Afuie.” Mr. Alexander noted his self importance and the intentional delay of introduction so that he could give himself a grandiose introduction. This Comte was a man of obvious opulence and splendor, compliments and courtesies would not be wasted on such a one. Mr. Alexander took note.

“Well, than it is an honor Comte Afuie. I had hoped we could meet someday, I’ve heard much about you.” He said. Damien noted how the man was receptive and concentrated. However, his focus was mainly on himself and making a grand and inflated impression, like an extremely portly peacock, Mr. Alexander noted and concealed a smirk.

“Ah my dear boy, the honor is all mine.” He said as he gestured with his arm to the hallway at Mr. Alexander’s right. The Comte was quite the character, Mr. Alexander noted how he waddled a bit more than he actually walked, but then again on those spindly little legs one could not expect much else. “Right this way, so we can discuss these matters in a more comfortable location. We have much to discuss, Mr. Alexander.”

As The Comte led the way Mr. Alexander could not help but notice the sheer size of the place unabashedly the most powerful House in all of England except maybe the House Royal. This was truly the greatest of all the Noble Houses that formed the Imperial Noble Houses. Truly it was opulent, more than he could have dreamed.

And while beautiful it was even more powerful because it had become somewhat of a place of trade in more recent times; a vast amount of money went into and came out of these halls every day. Merchants were trading their bonds and the East India Company was flourishing wildly in their trade monopoly.

Surely this must have something to do with money, for this was the place to deal with it. But Mr. Alexander wondered, whose money he was dealing with, and if this might be an investment into his theories. But he pushed such thoughts from his mind and continued to walk behind The Comte.

Presently they came to a door where the man bobbed a bit and stopped abruptly. “Here we are Mr. Alexander, we have much to discuss, please let us make haste.” The Comte’s grin pushed his cheeks higher and higher, making his eyes look even smaller.

Mr. Alexander stepped in behind him and closed the door behind him to come upon the sight of a large library, filled with books everywhere. Surely there must have been a wealth of them, everywhere! The room was vast, but that wasn’t all that caught his attention, presently a man in a black suit turned around from looking outside a window.

His eyes were cold, calculating, and reserved. His face was angular and sharp, with high cheekbones. His obsidian hair was combed back and shone like wet ink, his face was cold and clean there was barely an indication the man grew facial hair. He turned and stared with eyes as dark as inkwells at Mr. Alexander.

“So Comte Afuie, this is him?” He remarked in a bored tone. His black eyes were piercing into Mr. Alexander. “I expected a bit more, but I suppose it will have to do. You cannot really choose family, I suppose.”

The Comte laughed in delight, but just as suddenly as his giggles began they stopped, and he immediately shifted his emotions. “We have much to discuss with you Mr. Alexander, we, ahh, knew your uncle.”

“Uncle? I don’t have an uncle.” He said. “Surely you have the wrong person; I was the only child of my parents who had lost their entire families by the time I was born.”

“Is that what they told you? Hmm… I see. Tragic really, these feuds.” The man in black responded, directing the latter statement at the Frenchman.

“Your uncle young Alexander was quite the man here in London, have you ever heard of a Mr. Neville Cornelius Harrowman-Grey?”

Shock spread across his face, but how!? Surely it was impossible! He composed himself and answered. “Surely I’ve heard of him, who hasn’t? But that man could not possibly be my uncle. I’m quite certain you have the wrong man.”

“My research has concluded that you’re his only surviving heir, Mr. Alexander. There’s no doubt to it at all,” Said the man in black.

“But me, heir to House Harrowman? How is this possible?” He was amazed. Just this morning he had little money to compare to these people and a humble estate in the Mayfair district. Surely this had to be some sort of mistake.

“Well, according to my research, there were two Harrowman sons, Neville Harrowman Grey, and James Adair Harrowman Grey, who later became James Alexander.”

“But why didn’t I know about this!?” Damien demanded.

“Terrible feud you see, your father was disowned when he married your mother, and his younger brother Neville took control of the whole estate. Neville was your father’s brother, but in the aftermath of his exile from civilized society, your father changed his name and carried on with his life. And now, you’re the only Harrowman left, whether by name or not.”

“I see…” Mr. Alexander said, starting to think about it. It wasn’t entirely impossible he supposed. “So what happened to my uncle?” Damien asked wondering what had happened to Mr. Harrowman-Grey.

“A terrible accident happened while he was riding at Riddle Abbey, one of your new landholdings. His horse threw him into a ditch and he broke his neck. That was a true gentleman, your uncle, I mean.”

“I see. Riddle Abbey you say, I’ve never heard of it.” Mr. Alexander said.

“It was one of the, ahh, more reclusive Harrowman estates.” The Comte chimed in.

“So what do I need to do from here, gentlemen?” Mr. Alexander inquired.

“Ahh, that is where I come in,” The Comte said gloating in his fleshy giddiness. “I have hired a private banker to let the paperwork be dealt with quickly, so that there are no…complications. He should arrive shortly.”

“I see, but…” Damien began, and suddenly was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“That must be him now. Enter! Come in, come in.” The Comte ushered him into the room. He was a thin man, tall yet slightly droopy. His posture curved him a bit to the front, and there was a dark fatigue in his eyes despite his smile. A sharp hooked nose led to watery eyes that blinked more often than not. He carried an umbrella under one arm, and in that umbrella was a little black cat.

What a strange man. Mr. Alexander thought, but then again, strange was just the beginning. He was heir to House Harrowman, and The Court of Airs.