Grey

Grey

Chapter One

A grey mist had descended on London, and everywhere he looked it was drab and dreary. The city was heavy with moisture and the fog seemed to choke London subtly with cold seductive fingers, slowly creeping across the face of the city. Huddled little figures in black bustled to and fro about their lives, and he himself was off to another destination on business.

Mr. Alexander looked out of the window longingly; it had been a long time since he’d left London for any reason. His research just kept him so busy and all the parties and debates, he was glad to be leaving even if for a brief while. He stared at his reflection in the glass, the dark green eyes and the sharp nose that sat on a rather pale face. His black hair was lightly combed to one side, and a sharp well groomed patch of hair grew on his chin.

Studying history was not an easy task it usually immersed him, sometimes for days on end, he’d look into the mysteries of the past. It was a simple pleasure that kept him occupied, though he hoped he could find the funding to go on an expedition soon. Aside from History, Damien Alexander was also a self-professed scientist.

His most recent research had been of Egypt, and the Library of Alexandria. How it called to him across the distances, to discover the trove of knowledge from that age. He longed for it, but right now he had more pressing matters to think on.

There’d been a curious letter this morning, simply left at the door; the messenger had bolted off before he could be questioned about the contents of the letter. It had contained an invitation to Lunch at Harrowman Court.

Mr. Alexander definitely wasn’t much of a social butterfly, rather shy really, but something about the letter intrigued him. So Damien made haste to prepare himself for departure and head out to this mysterious lunch party. He was hoping this lunch party would not take overly long, he was eager to get back to his library.

Harrowman Court, he didn’t make much of it at first, but something was tickling the back of his mind. Something cursory, he couldn’t remember right now. So he pulled out a folder and began to read some files of his earlier theories on the Temple of Hecate.

Science it seemed had been a cruel mistress. Teaching him her secrets, but taking from him time and with that time, the blooms of youth, he was older now. He was still sharp and young in appearance, but the weariness was in his eyes, and in his heart.

He looked at the files with mild interest trying to distract himself from the long and uneventful ride. “At least I’m getting away from London.” He muttered to himself as he chewed lightly on his pipe and resumed his quiet contemplation. Though he never used tobacco he kept a pipe to chew on when he conducted his research.

Mr. Alexander put away the files and began to think about Harrowman Court. A minor landholder with not much interest in the workings of society, he’d never bothered to learn who was in fashion and what was new. He continued to mull it over, until it came into view and snapped his awareness like a lightning bolt. He almost shot out of his seat. With awe he whispered to himself “The Court of Airs”

Harrowman Court was magnificent, even at a distance. He could see the strong and formidable architecture of the place. The bold and unquestioned use of wealth to fuel the opulence, it was simply amazing. Now he remembered, Harrowman Court, it was more commonly known as The Court of Airs. The sheer size of it, the House Harrowman alone must have been thrice the size of his humble estate.

Now Mr. Alexander had reason to question the letter he’d received and humble curiosity teased him. He let his mind wander to the possibilities of benefactors and investors for a moment. But then again, the letter had not said anything about investment or his theories. It humbly requested him to join them for lunch this afternoon and nothing more. He had never been involved with anyone at The Court of Airs as far as he knew. His work kept him so busy, that he didn’t know who might have invited him; the letter had not been signed.

As the carriage approached the gates he could feel himself growing mildly tense in the morning air. He pulled out his pocket watch, Eleven O’ Clock. Punctual as always, he thought to himself. His carriage pulled up to the stairs and he let the servants open his door. He grabbed his black gentleman’s cane and made his way up the steps. His top hat in place and his coat hung over his left arm, he made sure he looked in order. Appearance is more important than anything else at first meetings. He thought to himself.

Arriving at the door he gave it three sharp knocks and the servants conducted him in. The entry hall was itself a work of art which stopped him but for a brief moment, No time for idleness now, keep sharp Damien, keep sharp! He reprimanded himself. He stepped back, chin up and his dignity about him, Mr. Alexander was ready to enter The Court of Airs.