Seven Dreams (8 page)

Soon they reached
the house, and split up. Their joint task was one of
reconnaissance. They would endeavour to visit every room in the
house by some means or another, and they would cover walls, floors,
ceilings, shelves, windows and everything else in their attempts to
locate either the key which Halavere sought, or any sign of
imminent intrusion by the same lady — or anybody else, for that
matter. Teyo scurried through the kitchens, dodging the feet of the
slaving kitchen staff, and up the stairs into the hall as Jisp
dashed her way towards the grand stairway and the first floor. If
he didn’t miss his guess, it was just about time for Serena and
Fabian to arrive, and he was relying upon them to keep the Baron
busy.

Serena donned the
role of Lady Fenella Chartre with pleasure as she was helped down
from the ladyship-coach by a liveried footman. But her good
feelings soon began to give way to exasperation as she observed the
footman’s uniform. The poor man was dressed in a crimson jacket and
trousers with gold ornaments, gold braid, gold embroidery and even
polished gold leather boots! Nothing could exceed the pure
ostentation of such a uniform for a mere footman, and she knew that
the majority of the Baron’s numerous staff wore similar attire.
Combined with the overly imposing frontage of the golden mansion
which towered above her and the plethora of gold-leaved shrubs,
hedges and trees with which the Baron had decorated his garden, the
effect was almost prostrating. Serena eyed it with vast distaste,
but as the Baron himself stepped out of the front door at that
moment and came hastening towards her, she was obliged to conceal
her disapprobation behind Lady Fenella’s bright smile and
enthusiastic manner.

‘
My
lord!’ she gushed with suitable rapture, ‘I declare, the gardens
are more beautiful every time I come here! How do you contrive
it?’

The Baron,
revolting man, caught hold of her hands and kissed them both,
leaving Serena to conceal a faint shudder of distaste. It was not
that he wasn’t handsome; though rather older than her twenty-nine
years, he was in excellent shape, and though he was only of
moderate height he displayed a fine figure. His hair and moustache
may be greying, but his features were handsome, and his green eyes
were decidedly fine.

It was his manner
which revolted, together with his taste. Both were inferior and
encroaching. She was glad of Fabian’s presence as he stepped down
from the carriage behind her. The Baron may view Lord Bastavere’s
appearance with poorly concealed impatience, but Serena had
insisted on his accompanying her. As committed as she was to the
job, nothing could persuade her to undertake her distasteful role
as the Baron’s entertainment without support. He had a detestable
way of getting her alone at every opportunity, and his behaviour
when he succeeded was not such as to inspire Serena with
confidence. She had a secret hope that today, just for once, she
might contrive to escape from the Baron’s clutches without having
to field another proposal of marriage.

A faint hope, she
realised with an inward sigh, as she observed the twinkle in his
eye which he no doubt considered roguish. Still, she had Fabian to
play the desirable role of fifth wheel, and as long as the Baron
was focused upon her, he would not notice the extra housemaid who
was wandering the halls of his house, or the pair of suspiciously
lively lizards currently sticking their sticky feet all over his
walls. She hoped that her team had managed to infiltrate the house
without any problems, and also that Iyamar, left with the costume
coach, was getting along suitably with Wendle.

Their primary
objective was to find the key, or whatever it was, before Halavere
arrived to claim it. She had some hopes that Egg, with her natural
inquisitiveness and her eye for the unusual, might manage to
identify it. Failing that, perhaps Teyo’s unusual draykon senses
might reveal it, should the thing prove to be unremarkable to the
eye. Either way, they would need time. The house was enormous, of
course, and much of it was littered with collectibles.

She exchanged
some lively nothings with the Baron for a few minutes, allowing
herself to be conducted over the gardens. Fabian said nothing at
all as Serena exclaimed rapturously over every single violently
golden bush or tree or flower which her tiresome companion chose to
show her; he merely followed in silence. It was part of his role,
of course. Lord Bastavere was snobbish in the extreme, and not at
all shy of showing his contempt. She might wish, though, that he
would talk a little, and share the burden of entertaining the
Baron, even if he could only be rude. Were some of these bushes
painted
gold? They were. They absolutely were. Serena
averted her gaze with a strong shudder, and plastered back on her
smile.

She kept the
whole party out in the gardens for as long as she could, aware that
she was giving her team plenty of time to scout the interior. At
length, however, the Baron would not be dissuaded from leading her
inside. The autumnal weather was just too chilly, alas, for her to
propose tea in the gardens, and she was obliged to allow herself to
be led into a drawing-room on the first floor. This, too, was
appallingly golden, and she seated herself in a gold-upholstered
chair with a sigh, arranging her fine lavender velvet skirts around
herself with ostentatious fastidiousness.

This sigh of hers
had been audible, she realised with dismay, as the Baron turned a
questioning look upon her. ‘Never say that my fair Fenella finds
something amiss!’ he cried, with lively dismay. ‘If one single
thing in my humble house is not to her taste, she must say so at
once, and it shall be rectified
instantly
.’

A man who
referred to a lady of his interest in the third person ought to be
shot, Serena thought savagely. She yawned theatrically and sagged
back into her seat, disclaiming, ‘Oh! No, my lord, how could I
possibly object to such charming arrangements? In truth, I am a
little tired. I attended a party yesterday eve, and I was coaxed
into remaining later than was strictly wise.’

‘
I am
overcome with regret!’ he declared extravagantly. ‘I should have
been present to attend you, Fenella. Under my guidance, you could
not have overstrained yourself.’

Fabian’s lip
curled visibly, and Serena hurriedly exclaimed, ‘How
good
you are! But I can take care of myself, you know.’

‘
Evidently not!’ returned the Baron with a fatuous smile. ‘For
here before me is the proof, in the shape of a wilting
damsel.’

Serena’s
increasingly murderous reflections were mercifully interrupted at
this moment, by the entrance of a blindingly red-and-gold clad
employee bearing a golden tray of cakes which he laid upon the tea
table. Another followed and set beside it a second golden tray full
of sandwiches, and yet another set an (inevitably) golden teapot in
the centre, together with matching cups. Serena took advantage of
the Baron’s momentary distraction to gaze around herself, taking
note of the number of cabinets that lined the walls. They were all
filled with assorted objects, and she hoped that Egg, Teyo or Jisp
had managed to examine this room before their party had occupied
it.

No, she realised
a moment later, for surely that was the lively little person of
Jisp darting along the skirting-board. Or perhaps it was Teyo. The
lizard, whichever it was, scrambled up the wall and disappeared
over the top of the nearest cabinet. Serena, heart thumping a
little at this audaciousness, hoped fervently that the Baron had
not noticed.

He was too busy
pouring tea. Serena was appalled to observe that even the steaming
beverage which splashed fragrantly into the dainty cups was gold.
He was definitely getting worse. She would have to throw that
golden silk ball gown away, she thought regretfully; it was
something of a favourite, but after today she would never be able
to look a golden object in the face again.

She was further
alarmed to note that the Baron’s attention had turned to his
antiques, and that the notion of showing them to his guests had
entered his head. A moment ago she might have been delighted at so
perfect an opportunity to hunt for the key herself. Now that they
had a lizardly visitor, she wasn’t so sure.

Fabian had not
observed their tiny guest, she swiftly concluded, for he accepted
the Baron’s offer with alacrity, casting a swift, meaningful look
in her direction. As Lord Bastavere, he was at his stateliest, and
she felt that even the egotistical Baron Anserval was a little bit
impressed by his lordship’s demeanour. Not that he required very
much encouragement. Scarcely giving his guests time to finish their
tea, he was up and offering Lady Fenella his arm.

A thought
occurred to Serena; a ploy which, if she could pull it off, might
both salvage the situation and secure them a considerable
advantage. She smiled her charming best at the Baron, accepted his
arm with every apparent pleasure, and proclaimed, ‘How discerning a
collector you are, my lord! Truly, I have never seen so fine an
array as is displayed in this room.’

The Baron, caught
between a swelling satisfaction and a lowering chagrin, made a
comical picture. Gratified he could not help being at this high
praise, but nor could he resist pointing out: ‘In this room! My
dear lady, you must be aware that this is but a fraction of the
whole.’

‘
Oh!’
she replied, blinking. ‘To be sure. Now that you put me in mind of
it, I do recall some one or two things in the hall, and perhaps the
library.’

‘
Mere
nothings! Trifles! My exhibits run the length and breadth of this
humble house, in point of fact, though I need not scruple to
entrust
you,
Lady Fenella, with the truth. I do not keep my
finest pieces on public display. How could I? They must be
constantly guarded from the predations of the greedy and envious.’
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and added, ‘What
would you say if I told you that there are secret rooms in this
house?’

Serena regretted,
for a brief, sharp instant, that the only way to handle such an
ignorant fool as the Baron was to pretend to even greater vacuity.
It grew wearing. She composed her face into an expression of
suitable surprise, and exclaimed.

The Baron was
satisfied. ‘Very cunning, is it not? My acquisitions come under
constant scrutiny, and if I did not take all possible pains to
protect my treasures, I daresay I should lose them all. The very
best and rarest are safely tucked away, and so I have no
apprehensions.’ His chest swelled with satisfaction as he made
these fine pronouncements, and he nodded his own approval to
himself. ‘I daresay your lord and ladyship would like to see them?’
he added.

Finally. Serena,
relieved that she would not have to coquette her way into these
“secret” rooms, smiled her perfect approbation of this plan. ‘What
a great treat!’ she declared. ‘How I long to see these rarest of
treasures.’

‘
Are
they so very fine?’ said Lord Bastavere, with a harsh laugh. ‘They
cannot rival the collections of, say, the Iving Gallery, or the
Irbel National Museum?’

The Baron,
bridling, returned that it most certainly
could,
and Serena
blessed her brother in her heart. Nothing would now stop the Baron
from showing them every part of his vaunted collections, and though
the prospect was a stultifying one, she felt some hope that they
would be able to locate the key before Halavere showed
up.

The problem of
Jisp — or Teyo — had slipped her mind in the midst of these
manoeuvrings, but before they had reached the door she was
horrified to observe a tiny, lithe form scurrying beneath her
skirt. Moments later she felt the dubious and unsettling sensation
of many sticky toes and a scaled little body worming its way up her
ankle. The creature clung to her leg and remained there as she
walked with the Baron and Fabian through the wide hallways of the
house. She
hoped
it was Jisp under there.

Blessing the
lucky chance which had led her to don particularly voluminous
drawers that morning, Serena tried to ignore the clinging pressure
about her lower leg and chattered in the liveliest fashion all the
way through the house to the centre, near the main staircase. Here
they paused, and the Baron, with an expression of enormous pride,
activated some mechanism that lay concealed behind a revolting
painting of pink-faced infants that adorned a secluded corner of
the hallway. A previously hidden door swung smoothly open. Behind
it, Serena observed a staircase leading down into the depths
beneath the house.

The Baron
advanced to the top of the stairs and clapped his hands loudly
three times. Lights instantly began to flicker to life below,
revealing the considerable extent of the stairs. Serena was
impressed in spite of herself. The Baron certainly spared no
expense, either in hiding his treasures or in impressing his
guests. That light set-up alone must have cost a fortune. She
allowed herself to be conducted down the stairs on her host’s arm,
leaving Lord Bastavere to wander along behind.

At the bottom, a
long corridor stretched away with several doors set into it. Serena
stared at them in some dismay. Surely they did not
all
lead
to galleries full of antiques? Her comfortable notion that they
might secure the key before Halavere even arrived began to fade,
and doubts returned.