The Dark Library

By JJ Argus

Copyright 2011

Smashwords edition

JJ Argus has written more than 250 novels,
and been published in hardcover, softcover, and innumerable
magazines and digests. This work is the result of the long, hard
effort and creativity of the author. Please do not post or resell
it without permission.

This story is a work of fiction. All
characters are over eighteen.

Hannah shook her head as the car approached
her new place of employment. Growing up in small, cramped, council
houses, it amazed her that one man would live in a place, which,
had it been in a city, would easily have occupied an entire city
block, or perhaps two. Dozens of chimneys sprouted along its roof,
and small towers rose at the corners. One section in front was
covered in ivy from ground to peaked roof, trimmed back along
windows and around a stone balcony, and the bell tower which
sprouted from the center.

Though no student of architecture, it was
quite obvious to Hannah that the building had had numerous
additions over the years. . It seemed untidily symmetrical, if that
was possible, with that long, peaked roof at right angles to the
peaked roofs of several additions both at the ends and along the
middle..

“Thank God I don’t have to clean the bloody
place,” she whispered to herself as she climbed out of the car.

She said it softly, however, for the drier
was an intimidating, and unfriendly individual who worked for Lord
Carling, the owner, and her new, temporary employer.

It should be an … interesting assignment,, at
any rate. And it wasn’t as though she had a lot of choices at the
moment. Government cutbacks had closed several libraries just as
she got out of school with her masters degree in library sciences.
And it would have been too much of an indignity to take a job as a
file clerk somewhere, or worse a waitress.

Oh, how they’d love that, she thought sourly,
thinking of all the girls she’d known back in high school who’d
called her a stuck up geek. She was stuck up, but only in that she
knew she was smarter than they were, and had more dignity, pride
and drive to learn and succeed. The lazy sluts had spent their
years partying and getting laid while she was studying to better
herself. She’d gone on to university while they’d gone on to the
dole, or jobs as waitresses and shop clerks.

So they’d laugh themselves silly if they
heard that after “miss stuck up” had spent seven years in
university she was forced to take a job as a waitress just like
they were. She didn’t think her pride could take that kind of blow.
She had always been a very self-contained person with a keen sense
of who and what she was. Much of her self image was bound up in
herself as an intelligent, educated, dignified young woman who had
escaped the poverty of her birth.

Perhaps she was a little prideful, but so
what? She could have given up and gotten pregnant at seventeen like
so many of those cheap, lower class girls she’d grown up with. But
she’d worked hard, persevered, and intended to make something of
herself. She didn’t talk like someone who’d come from council
houses, didn’t act like one, and didn’t look like one.

So now what she needed was some experience on
her resume so she could have a hope of getting into a proper
library. This one month assignment to catalog and organize Lord
Carling’s library would not only help her finances but a
satisfactory recommendation would look good for future work.

The driver, a large, shaven headed black man,
climbed out and opened the boot of the car, sourly lifting out the
four large suitcases she’d brought for her month’s stay. She’d
tried to keep things to a minimum, but who knew what weather she’d
encounter, or how hot or cold the place was? And it was a month.,
after all.

“I can take two of those, if you like,” she
said diffidently.

He snorted, and slipped enormous fingers
through two handles at a time, carrying them easily towards the
house, his long legs striding quickly across the driveway. Hannah
hurriedly followed, eying the sculpted dragons above the doorway as
she crossed under.

The entry hall was enormous. Two curving
stone staircases climbed the opposite walls before her, meeting
twenty feet up where a stone railing circled the entry hall. The
floor gleamed of polished marble tiles, and an enormous chandelier
hung overhead. A broad shouldered, middle aged man in a perfectly
tailored dark suit stood in the beneath it, next to a round oak
table.

“Miss Quinn?” he asked in a manner which was
not a question.

“Lord Carling?”

She thrust out her hand, and he took it
lightly, a slight amusement on his face.

“No, Miss Quinn. I am Patrick, Mr. Carling’s
butler.

“Ah,” she said.

“Jason will take your bags up to your room
for you, and after you get settled I’ll show you to the library and
pass on Lord Carling’s instructions.”

“Of course,” she said.

Of course Lord Carling wouldn’t meet her at
the door, she berated herself. Such men would only meet the most
important of visitors. And that certainly wasn’t her!

Hannah followed Jason up the staircase,
around the balcony to the right, then along a broad, tall corridor
to the far end. Her head swiveled back and forth constantly,
examining the art work and sculptures along the walls. They reached
the end of the corridor and climbed a winding wooden staircase,
emerging in another, much narrower, less grand corridor. Right next
to them was a heavy, ancient wooden door set into a stone frame.
Jason set down her bags calmly, took an enormous key from his
pocket, and unlocked the door, then picked up the cases and went
in.

There was another, even narrower staircase
inside the door, which ended abruptly in a small, cozy, rounded
room with windows looking out to the north, east and west. A small
toilet, and a small closet occupied the wall to the south. There
was an enormous four poster canopy bed set between two large
windows, with night tables bracketing it. A pair of antique
dressers curved around the wall on the right, with a desk between
them.

A large, stone fireplace sat against the wall
to the east wall, with a pair of stuffed chairs facing it, and a
large, low wooden chest sat a the foot of the bed. All in all, it
was quite a cozy room for a months' stay, certainly better than any
hotel room she was likely to have found, presuming there'd been one
available in the distant village.

“Uhm, is there a radio or ...”

He handed her a small square box, a remote
control of sorts, then turned and left without another word. Hannah
looked after him, mouth raised, but didn't speak as she dropped her
eyes to the remote instead. It was a rather technologically
advanced piece of equipment for the old manor, and she wondered at
the incongruity.

Along side, where it said lights she pressed
a button, and the lights sconces along the wall turned off. A
rocker button turned out to be a dimmer switch of sorts, turning
them up and down. Another button turned on just the sconces above
the bed.

“How very modern,” she murmured.

There were numerous buttons under the ”TV”
section. She pressed the main one and gasped in surprise as the
chest at the foot of the bed suddenly opened and a large
flat-screen TV rose up out of it. She moved around and sat on the
edge of the bed, nonplussed at this high technology, and spent some
time with it, discovering a radio – somewhere – with speakers in
the wall she could turn up or down. There were also buttons to
control the temperature.

Lord Carling was obviously a modern man!

She began to unpack, which was a simple task
with so much space. She did not change, for she had not met Lord
Carling yet, and wanted to be dressed properly should the occasion
arise. She had on brown dress slacks, a beige blouse, and brown
pumps. It was not the most comfortable of outfits, but it would do
for almost any occasion insofar as dressing up went.

She lay back on the bed, putting some of the
pillows behind her, and played with the TV for a time then went
back down the stairs, searching out where a bathtub or shower might
be found.

The corridor below was obviously not one of
the showy ones. The floor was polished wood, but without
decoration, and there were no paintings on the walls, nor
sculptures or tables along them. Some of the doors were open, and
they gave onto small, tidy bedrooms with Danish modern furniture,
those appropriate for a servant, she guessed. Though they did not
appear to be occupied at present unless the servants were awfully
tidy and had no personal possessions.

And then she found a bathroom. Again, her
expectations failed her, for she'd expected some sort of old
fashioned room with a claw foot tub, and ancient, rickety water
faucets. What she found was an ultra modern communal bathroom with
sleek white and black ceramic tiles on the floor and walls. Four
white walled toilet stalls faced were nearest the door. Past them,
a long, sharp edged counter of polished granite with four very
modern sinks was on the right wall, and across from it, a
completely open shower area with five separate shower heads spaced
along the wall.

The question which occurred to her, however,
was whether this was a male or female washroom, for it certainly
couldn't accommodate both at once, not with that open area. She
wasn't about to shower until finding out, especially as there was
no lock on the door.

She continued down the hall and round the
corner, and here all was in chaos, or at perhaps , orderly chaos.
It was evident that workmen were redoing the floor and walls on
this section, with much clutter of tools, wood, drywall and junk
strewn about. A number of walls were open, and fresh boards were
being laid in several rooms.

She went back the way she'd came, took the
long, curving staircase down, and was about to walk back up the
broad corridor, but when she emerged she turned down a side hall
and saw the library ahead of her, so continued.

It was a beautiful room, extravagantly large
and decorated with bas relief carvings along the roof line. Rows of
mahogany shelves filled three walls. On the right was a narrow
staircase which led up behind a length of six foot high shelves,
and emerged in a sort of gallery which overlooked the library. In
that small gallery were more bookcases at angles to the ones in the
main room.

The fourth wall had a huge glass french
doors, and an immense wooden antique desk sat before them. She
pushed open the doors and walked out onto a stone balcony
overlooking the rear of the house, which had formal gardens and a
modern looking swimming pool. She didn't stay to stare, but went
back inside, walking slowly along the bookcases, examining books at
random. Some were modern, while others were ancient.

She was on one knee, several books on the
other, examining the topmost one, when a shadow came over her and
she gasped in alarm, twisting around to see Patrick there, looking
down at her.

“Oh uhm, how do you do,” she said, putting
the books aside and rising.

“Miss Quinn,” he said.

“Mister ahm... mister...”

“Butler.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Coincidental, I assure you.”

“Uhm, yes, well, Mr. Butler, before I can
start in on anything I need to discuss with Lord Carling what sort
of system he'd like in place, whether by time period, for example,
or subject, or a mixture of both with alphabetical as a
sub-category and wh – .”

He held his hand up before him and she
stopped speaking uncertainly.

“Lord Carling will contact you in your room
later this afternoon,” he said. “He was giving you time to settle
in and refresh.”

“Oh, well, I'm fine,” she said.

He nodded his head slightly and then turned
to go.

'Oh, a question: uhm, bathing facilities...
?”

“There is a washroom on the floor upstairs by
your door.”

“Yes uhm, was that, I mean, is it for males
or females? It seems rather an open concept sort of room, you
see...”

“The east side of the house is meant to be
for female servants,” he said. “The west side will ultimately be
fore male servants. There is still a considerable amount of
construction going on, and so as yet we have very few servants
here, just the bare minimum. There are two maids, at present who
live on that floor. Aside from Jason and myself, Edwin the cook,
and Bertrand the gardener, there are no other residents at the
moment.”

“What about the construction workers?”

“They have left for the weekend and will
return on Monday. They're unionized,” he said with evident
disapproval.