Chapter Three: The Haunted House

Chapter Three: The Haunted House
Emmeline stared at Daryl and his finger displayed palm up, with the jagged cut which mirrored her own beneath its' bandage. She thought about his comment regarding their Other Names, their gypsy names, she had to admit.
'...How...Who...?' She stammered, not sure which of the many questions roiling about her brain she wished answered first.
Daryl worked a tight, grim small smile into his features as he then rose and resumed his hunt through his desk. 'Ah! At last!'
Having found what he'd been rooting about for, he motioned Em back to their window seat.
They both sat, necessarily close together so that he could show Emmeline in more detail what he now brandished before her: a photograph.
Emmeline was having problems believing her eyes.
'It's...my mother and father. And, you!' She looked up at Daryl, frowning. 'What does this mean?...and, this looks like, this house!' She stabbed her finger at the photo. 'That's this stairway and front door you are all standing before!'
Daryl held her gaze with his own grey placid stare. 'Yes. It is.'
'When was this taken?' Em knew it had to have been long ago. Perhaps before she was born.
Daryl confirmed this. 'Ah. Some time ago. I'm not certain about the exact date but probably around 1860.'
Emmeline was rather in shock. What to make of all this? She hadn't a clue. But obviously, Jack and Aleister, and even Yeats, she believed, had some intricate and intimate ties with her, she  now perceived all too clearly. She was most uncomfortable with this discovery.
'...Daryl...?' Emmeline enquired, looking at him beseechingly.
The lost look on her face tore at his heart. So like her mother... He sighed.
'It is a long story. And it has been a long day for you...'
Emmeline rose, color in her cheeks. 'This cannot wait!'
Daryl regarded her from on high. 'It can and it shall.' His tone was adamant. He sat at his desk. 'Are you familiar with the San Francisco Public Library, Emmeline?'
What a question! 'Of course!' She wasn't about to volunteer more if he was going to be such a close-mouthed tease with information. Don Cabrone.
'How would you like to work there?' He asked her, taking paper from his desk and dipping his pen in the inkwell. He cleared his throat, 'Part time only, of course. Perhaps...four hours per day, four days a week?' The pen scratched upon the paper.
'What is all this about?' Em was becomming weary of Daryl's mysterious high jinks.
'Well?' He simply looked at her. 'Are you interested in the job or not?'
Emmeline was, naturally. This could mean her freedom, possibly. A new life, in San Franciso! So many bizarre surprises...she could hardly think. 'Yes, I am interested.'
'Good. I'll have Manuel take you tomorrow. I'll accompany you and get everything sorted for your first day. Say, around 10 a.m.?'
An enquiring eyebrow was raised in her direction. Em nodded mutely. Daryl continued writing. 'That will be all for now. And do see Rosa for seeing you fitted into something more professional for work tomorrow.'
Dismissed, apparently, Emmeline turned, frowning and exited the study. As she quietly shut the doors behind her, her head whirled with all this new information to digest. She was simply dumbstruck. Hadn't a clue what it could all mean. And now a job?
At San Francisco Public! Em exhaled with relief. Where was Rosa?
One step at a time, Em!
                              . . . .
Emmeline found Rosa upstairs.
'Rosa. Tell me.' Em looked at the girl. 'What do you know of...Don Diego?'
Rosa calmly folded linens into the closet. She looked briefly Emmeline's direction. 'He is my employer.' Of course.
Well, if Rosa is anything other than...she'll keep it to herself at any rate.
Just have to keep ears and eyes alert.
Em smiled. 'I have a new job, downtown! I must report manana. What shall I wear, Rosa?'
'Ah! Wonderful!' Rosa regarded her with a smile in turn. 'Yes. There are some frocks upstairs that may fit you,' Rosa regarded Em. 'Turn about, miss.
Si. I'll bring something to your room shortly.'
Emmeline repaired to her room above, wondering whose 'frocks' she might fit into...she sighed as she caught her breath on the landing. Landing indeed...
She felt as though she had just crash landed upon a distant shore...she'd felt altogether too much of that lately.
Proceed as if, she told herself. Proceed as though it all makes sense, there were some method to the madness. And perhaps it shall all fall into line. Most of the time, she must admit, it did.
Most of the time.
And yet...what of the trio in the photo? What had Daryl to do with her parents? Or Jack? Why indeed, were they all here...she knew it had to do with her father. And with Frank as well. Oh, above all, Frank and Alice must stay safe! Em resolved then to play along as quiet and agreeable as one may please. Whilst taking notes.
But keep a cool red head, my girl she admonished herself. Best to gain his confidence and thus, more freedom. Perhaps, even, more information.
A pretty puzzle indeed.
                                    . . . . .
A soft knock upon the door.
'Enter!' Emmeline sat upon her bed, musing over her newest conundrums.
Rosa entered, her arms draped with a mound of colorful garments. 'Oh, Rosa, gracias! Let me help you! Let us just put them on the bed for now...' Em lifted the topmost frocks from Rosa's hold and lay them out for a viewing, whilst Rosa did likewise.
Em discarded those she immediately felt were less than business-like in either color or style...very pretty, but...she wished to make a good impression as someone serious about her work. They at last whittled the pile down to two likely candidates: a beige walking skirt and brown tweed jacket,
with a cream colored silk blouse; and a lavendar walking suit which was
lovely, but...Em at last decided she best stick with the tweed. More suited to the library, she believed.
'I only hope it will fit...' Emmeline shrugged out of her old skirt and the purple blouse, having taken her treasures from her pockets and secreted them away earlier; she stood in her chemise and decided she would probably need to find a corset at some point, but she'd lost enough weight so that she could at least tell if the ensemble was a fit or not for now.
It was. She was pleased with the sharp look of her suit and decided that, with corset and boots, perhaps a small cameo at her collar, she would present a modest and professional demeanor tomorrow. Hm. Brown gloves would be nice. She supposed she could do without a hat, still able to pass for a maid. Albeit edging ever closer to the status of Old Maid, she admitted. Nothing wrong with that! She drew herself in, a hand on her slim waistline. I've survived just fine thus far. Barely...she added, slumping a bit. Chin up, Em; fortune just might be turning about in your favor at last.
'That looks fine, miss. It is a good fit for you.' Rosa tugged the jacket down in back, tucking her collar over the edge.
'Oh, do please call me Emmelina, Rosa! I must admit I am lonesome for the sound of my name as I used to know it...'Em's voice trailed off. This was as close as she'd come to admitting to anyone how strange and violent the
journey here had been for her.
Rosa seemed to understand. 'Just between us, then...Emmelina!' Rosa smiled.
'Gracias.' Em sighed, 'Well, it should do, I think! I'll need a corset, and brown boots and gloves would be best...'Em turned as she studied herself in the oval mahogany framed mirror. 'Anything like that about? Although I can't imagine boots in my size just lying about the place!'
'Oh, you would be surprised. Don Diego has ways of making things appear out of thin air you would think!'
I just bet he does, Em agreed, remembering Jack timewalking back to the east coast just to fetch wine and roses for their tete-a-tete.
'I'll mention it to him. He will fill the order, you'll see. But, for now, come with me upstairs. There are some things you may find here to suit you for now, si?'
The women exited Em's bedroom and Rosa led the way to the end of the hall, where, upon opening a small doorway, she turned on the light switch to display a row of narrow stairs heading up. 'An attic room?' Em enquired.
'Ummm...not quite. It's an odd place,' Rosa answered as they climbed the stairway which curved to the left. 'The attics are even higher up. But this level seems to be somewhere in-between.'
Seems fitting for where Emmeline now found herself: Somewhere In Between...here and there, now and then. Who she was, is, shall be...And her
status? Not quite her own person, and not quite a prisoner, she supposed.
Yes, that part definately needs some work.
They reached the top of the stairs into another short hallway. Rosa took a ring of keys from her apron pocket and unlocked a small door, one of three in the hall. They entered what appeared to be a large closet; big as a bedroom but lined with trunks and rods from which all manner of clothes were hanging--men's as well as women's. Hm. This could come in handy for disguise and escape, if needed, Emmeline noted. Rosa went to a trunk and opening the rounded lid, threw it back and Em detected the scent of cedar and lavendar which clung to the mounds of white linens, satins and silks and laces within.
'Oh, how lovely...' She hesitantly reached into the piles of intimate accessories which invited tactile exploration. Em's hands felt the satiny
softness and delighted in the feel of fine lace upon her skin. She was curious about a stack of neatly pressed and folded handkerchiefs, and looked through them, pleased to study the small embroidered flowers and monograms.
Her fingers traced one finely stitched hanky with the initials: 'JHB' upon it and cocked her head sideways...why does this seem familiar to me? she mused. She brought it to her nose and sniffed gingerly. A slight peppery, spicy scent still held fast to the linen, a scent that she recognized.
'Whose things are these, Rosa?' She enquired, trying her best to sound casual.
'Oh, I'm sure I wouldn't know that, miss...ah, Emmelina!' Rosa stood nearby her hands folded. 'All this was here, just as it is, when I arrived. I am not privy to where or how Don Diego acquires his property!'
'Nooo, of course not...'Em frowned. 'I wonder...would it be alright if I were to keep this hanky? And,'she sighed, '...this corset should do...'
'Yes, si! Don Diego instructed me to outfit you as you wished!' She turned,  gesturing at the odd assortment all about them. 'As this closet has the most clothing, shoes, hats, accoutrements all in one room, it seemed a good place to start!'
Some time later, armed with additional nightshifts, stockings, petticoats and accoutrements, although Em had attempted to offer Rosa some of the booty, the girl declined with a smile, but helped her carry what Em thought would get her through her upcoming workday as well as her time here...however long that would be...the two women carefully stepped downstairs, peering over and about their respective piles to navigate the stairway back to the floor below.
Depositing their goods upon the bed, Emmeline noted the sun was indeed lowering in the west. 'Thank you so much, Rosa! Truly I don't know what I would have done here without you!' In a burst of affection born of her sudden emptiness, Em surprised the girl with a quick hug. 'Ah, Emmelina! Da nada!'
Rosa smiled and patted Em gently on the shoulder. 'Well, I'll leave you to get this sorted. I'm due in the kitchen and should be setting about getting dinner together. But it was fun, no?'
Em smiled as she held the door whilst Rosa made her exit, and shut it softly behind her. She stared at the fluffy white mound of silks, satins, and linens heaped upon the bed. Em sat next to them and then fell forward upon them, scooping them toward her and inhaling deeply. She had chosen not only what she deemed would best serve her needs, but also, she had picked though and chosen by sense of smell...she had selected by the scent of what kindled her memory of Josephina's oil...to remind her of her gypsy nights, the passionate music and her lost blood sister. Would she ever see her again? And why, she wondered, was that fragrance so prevalent upstairs here in that trunk? Who else could have been wearing that self-same scent?
                              . . . . .
Em had just gotten things well sorted when there was again a soft knock upon her door. Opening her door, she was startled somewhat to find a tall dark gentleman unknown to her.
'Manuel, miss.' He bowed shortly. 'I am Don Diego's valet. He asks if you would be pleased to join him for dinner in the dining room, when you are ready.' His dark eyes locked with hers and remained cool and reserved. He seemed a very no-nonsense sort, and she felt that 'whenever you're ready' meant 'now', rather.
'Of course, Manuel, mi gustas! Ah, yes, I'll be right there, gracias!'Em was unused to dealing with 'help'; it didn't sit well with her socialist beliefs.
But she didn't wish to make anyone uncomfortable or get them into any trouble on her behalf, either. She wondered if she could persuade 'Don Diego' to embrace a more egalitarian household...
                               . . . .
After dinner, Daryl proposed they repair to the parlor for coffee. Daryl sat in an armchair near the fireplace whilst Emmeline took a seat upon the chesterfield across from him. Still attired in her old skirt and purple blouse, she had worn this to defy Daryl in some small fashion.As yet, he had made no mention of it.
'Ah, thank you, Manuel.' Daryl leaned over and poured the coffee which Manuel had sat upon the tea tray between them. 'Cream? Sugar?' He enquired.
'Just cream, gracias,'Emmeline answered, feeling that Daryl also disapproved soemwhat of her Espanol now that they were back in California. Perhaps he wished she would forget all about Mexico and her friends there. Well, perhaps 'Don Diego' should change his bloody name then, she decided, sipping her java daintily.
'I see you like your new blouse,' he remarked, staring darkly at her as they sat in the stillness of the parlor, watching the last of the sunset through the windows surrounding them, the bamboo blinds still raised to the view and the only sound the muted ticking of the grandfather clock. It reminded her of Daryl's home in Massachusetts, but lighter, brighter and not as remote.
'I do indeed.'Here we go, Em thought. I can play this game. 'An anonymous donor gifted it to me in the marketplace.' Em leaned back casually, appearing to enjoy the sunset.
Daryl wouldn't take the bait. 'And you have decided upon a brown tweed jacket and walking skirt for work tomorrow?' Em had discussed this with him at dinner. 'Have you everything you need?'
Well, why not? Em decided to be as forward as she was obviously expected to be. 'Actually, a pair of brown boots and brown gloves to match, would compliment the ensemble respectably.' She sat her coffee down. Wouldn't do not to sleep tonight. 'Perhaps a cameo as well.'
Daryl raised an eyebrow, then stood and regarded her. 'Shoe size?'
'A seven and one-half.'
He strode without ceremony from the room, and left Em to wonder about this odd man. Wuf! What a day...it seemed like several. She yawned despite the coffee. Mercy, but bed and sleep would be a blessing at last...she looked up then, hearing footsteps.
Daryl returned. He walked over to her and took a seat beside her on the sofa.
'Try these,' he handed her a pair of new brown leather ladies boots, with lacings. Emmeline showed no surprise at all, but accepted them and divesting herself of her old boots, tried on the new pair which fit a treat, if rather stiff still. 'They fit!'
He lay a pair of brown leather gloves upon the cushion between them. 'How is your finger?' Em hadn't thought about it, but it had stopped hurting. 'Better.' She pulled the soft kid gloves over her hands, fitting the left carefully over her bandage. She flexed her fingers and stood, taking a short turn about the room. 'These should compliment the suit nicely, thank you Daryl.' She wasn't about to call him Don Diego if she could help it.
Daryl watched her from his seat, a finger poised over his boca, rubbing his chin in approbation, a small smile playing about his lips. He stood then and went to the bar upon which crystal decanters gleamed with various amber liquids within. 'A toast, then. To your new employment. Cognac?' He enquired.
Em nodded, surprised. 'Gracias.'
He presented her with a fine cut glass snifter and clinked it together with his own. 'Salud,' he deigned to offer the Spanish pledge. They drank, and Daryl gestured Em back to the sofa, where he took a seat at the opposite end.
She preferred him in his armchair across from her. Oh well. A quick drink and then she was off to bed. Alone.
'It has been a long day,' ...to say the least, Em thought, as she raised a gloved hand to stifle her yawn. 'I fear I must retire rather early, or sleep where I sit.'
Daryl was regarding her carefully. Was he hoping she would do just that? Fall over compliant and rest her head on his shoulder perhaps? What was this man about? Why didn't he simply show his hand, whatever it was? Demand she use the artefact for whatever nefarious purpose he schemed, or make a pass at her, his nephew's girl? Or was Jack his son, in truth? She raised a hand and rubbed her forehead. Conjectures made her head spin.
'I'll show you to your room, then.' They finished their brandies and standing, he offered his arm. Emmeline accepted it hesitantly, and up the stairway they went, looking as though they were lord and lady of this manor house.
At Emmeline's door, she stilled and turned to him, unsure of what to say. 'Thank you for the job offer, Daryl. As well as for the suit of clothes.'
She wasn't about to thank him for kidnapping her.
Daryl sighed softly. 'One day, Emmeline, you might thank me and have a reason to mean it.' He reached within a vest pocket. 'This might go well with your ensemble.' He took her hand, and placed something within, curling her gloved fingers over it. 'Sleep well.' So saying, he turned then and took himself back downstairs without further ado.
Emmeline stared after his tall retreating figure; an enigma on top of conundrums. She shook her head, and went into her room, feeling relief to shut the door at last. And lock it. For all the good that would do.
She sat upon the bed and opened her hand. A cameo pin rested there--a russet backing to the ivory carving of a woman playing a lute. It was indeed a lovely thing...Em wondered if it opened. It did.
Within was a photograph Emmeline recognized...of a well-loved  and familiar face from long ago. A picture of her mother, as a young woman, about Em's age now. Emmeline was surprised to find how much she resembled her in the photograph...she'd always thought that she'd her father's features in the main, not that it pleased her. But in this likeness, there was something about the arch of her eyebrow that Em fancied she saw in herself as well.
Her gentle ruminations ceased then. What was Daryl doing with a photograph of her mother,set here in this cameo for posterity? What indeed was the meaning of this? And just what was Daryl trying to tell her? She was not sure she liked what this inferred.
Daryl and her mother. Daryl and Jack's mother. Which other mothers? He seemed to have a veritabe obsession going...Em closed the cameo with a click and clutched it to her, frowning. Don Cabrone strikes again... Em fell back against her pillows and released the pin, letting it roll upon the bed. She sighed and sadly stared at it. Ah, diosa...she so felt like just leaving now.
All of her instincts screamed at her to flee! Take some silver, sell it and go! Back to Mexico? Back to Jack? She rubbed her head again, then pulled her gloves off with distaste, tossing them. She'd like to take this evidence to Jack and tell him all...perhaps together they could...what, really? Beat the truth out of Daryl? She knew Jack would love to try.
But no. That could get them both killed. Aye-eee...she lay down then and stretched upon the bed, her hand on her knotted forehead. No, that's only what she felt like doing, definately not what was best. Okay. So Daryl wishes to play guessing games, it seems. Fine.
Get hold of yourself, nena! She knew she had to take this slow and be patient. Be cunning, and wait. Gather the facts. Gain his trust. He has a hand to play, and he seems to be showing one card at a time. Eventually, as the gypsies would say, all will be revealed.
She hoped she had the patience for this waiting game. At the moment there was only one thing she wished to do with a certain close-mouthed autocrat. And it didn't involve dressing nicely in tight laces, acting the lady, and taking tea with Don Cabrone. 
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