Tawny was in better spirits now that the air was cleared between herself and Audrey. She even began to relax again in the presence of Rebecca and the Professor when she returned to their home every night for a place to rest her head. Although, she wisely had the insight to purchase some earplugs so there’d be no more midnight mishaps as before.
One morning, as the Dylantantes lined up for their morning tasks, Madam Fraus stopped directly in front of Tawny, an amused smile creeping on her face.
“You must be making a good impression...” said Fraus. “You’ve been requested specifically to help with an event arranged by Master Dylan.”
“Really?” this piqued Tawny’s interest. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Dylan in quite some time. Obviously, she was busy with the whole indentured servitude thing, but still, she found it quite strange that Dylan rarely made an appearance while she worked in his home.
Tawny wanted to be excited the see Dylan again...but there was something in the way Fraus smiled when she delivered the news about being “requested”. It didn’t sit right with her.
And for good reason: that afternoon, Tawny carried a tray of tea and biscuits to yet another massive parlour room situated in Westinghouse Manor.
The doors were closed; as she used her body to push through, she was alarmed to find Elaine, Violet, and Prudence on the other side, sitting on the fancy, plush furniture.
Elaine grinned wickedly. “There she is: our own little personal servant girl to wait on us as we enjoy high tea.”
Oh SHIT.
Silently, Tawny brought the tray over and set it down on the round, low table. She was about to turn and walk away when Elaine cleared her throat.
“We’re not done with you yet. I need a footstool.”
Confused, Tawny looked at Elaine, who pointed downward to the floor.
“On your knees, girl,” demanded Elaine.
“Yes, we wouldn’t want to document your insubordination directly to Madam Fraus,” added Violet. “I hear she can be particularly tough on transgressions.”
Face burning, Tawny got on her hands and knees before Elaine, who casually swung her shoed feet onto Tawny’s back.
Elaine sighed contently. “That’s more like it.”
“Didn’t you have equestrian class this morning?” asked Violet. “I hope you were able to wipe your shoes afterwards. Those stalls have been known to be quite messy.”
“Oh come now, Violet - who has time for such quaint trivialities? Besides...that’s what the HELP is for.”
Elaine uncrossed and recrossed her legs over Tawny’s back, Tawny all-too-aware now of the damp, muddy feeling of Elaine’s shoes pressing into her. She imagined there was going to be a pair of unsightly footprints when she inspected her maid uniform later on.
“It’s so lovely of Dylan to let us have our high tea session in his parlour,” said Prudence, taking a measured sip of her tea.
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“It would be even nicer if he’d bother to make an appearance and greet us,” muttered Elaine, taking a more angry sip from her own teacup.
“I imagine it must be difficult for him,” mused Violet, stirring cream and sugar into her tea with a tiny spoon. “This time of year, after all.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” said Elaine.
“Didn’t you know Elaine?” said Prudence. “The 15th is the anniversary of the death of Dylan’s mother. He’s always a bit more reserved around that date.”
“I knew that,” Elaine said quickly. “Of course I knew that! I know everything about my Dylan-bear...no one is more gutted that he feels pain than I!”
Elaine bit into a tea cake and made a disgusted sound, contorting her face. “Ugh! These are STALE! Taste this!” She then took the half-eaten cake and smeared it into Tawny’s face, causing her to yelp in surprise and jolt upward while still on her knees inadvertently knocking the tea tray over and spilling tea all over the Evil 3.
“You clumsy skank!” yelled Elaine, kicking Tawny in the side. “Go get us some more tea and FRESH pastries, and be quick about it!”
Tawny could not escape the parlour room quick enough.
---
After getting resupplied with the tea items, Tawny hurried down an empty hallway, tray in hand. She was halfway down the corridor when she realized she didn’t recognize any of the doors or the paintings on the wall.
Tawny swore under her breath. Though she had been working at the Manor for several weeks, she still had not committed to memory the sheer labyrinthine magnitude of the residence. It was so easy to take a wrong turn or go up and down a similar-looking flight of steps and wind up in a completely different wing.
Tawny decided to backtrack - praying that she would return to the parlour room before the tea got to cold - when she heard a voice.
“I trust that you’re well.”
Tawny stopped dead in her tracks. The voice was so powerful, deep, and commanding, she swore someone had spoken right over her shoulder. But the hallway was vacant.
She did, however, notice that one of the doors was left slightly ajar. Quietly she crept over to the door and peered inside.
It looked to be a games room. Not a traditional games room, full of pool and card tables and boardrooms. It was a room entirely devoted to video games. Instead of walls, shelves lined every part of the room, filled with the contents of video games both recent and retro.
On the wall opposite the door was a massive television displays, which rivalled the size of most conventional theatre screens. The image on the screen was of a man who looked to be in his 50s. He looked attractive in his own right, but more than anything else, the man seemed POWERFUL. He seemed like the kind of man that conveyed confidence and dominance anywhere he went, a man who tacitly demanded respect by his mere presence.
“Have you been keeping up with your studies?” said the man.
In front of the screen, standing beside a decked-out gaming chair, stood the elusive Dylan. “Yes, sir.”
Tawny was struck by Dylan’s mannerisms. Normally giving off an air of calm, cool, and collectedness, this time Dylan seemed...reserved. Formal. Intimidated. It was conveyed in the way he stood at attention in front of the man on the screen.
“Good....that’s good,” replied the man. “I’m sorry, I likely won’t be back in time to attend your graduation. Have you heard from Sarah?”
“No,” replied Dylan.
“That’s to be expected,” said the man.
Dylan spoke again, but so softly Tawny could not initially hear what he said.
“What’s that?” asked the man. “Speak up.”
“I said...the 15th is approaching.”
Silence. Although it was only Dylan in the room, Tawny could feel a growing, suffocating weight of tension in the pregnant pause of the conversation.
At last, the man spoke again. “I’ll be certain to make my annual donation to the foundation in her honour. Don’t worry.”
“Of course,” replied Dylan; in his response, Tawny detected a slight edge of bitterness.
“I have to go now. We’ll schedule some time to talk again soon. Goodbye, Dylan.” The image of the screen cut out, leaving Dylan staring at a blank screen.
“Goodbye...Father.”
Dylan proceeded to sift through a pile of video games next to his chair, obviously intending to distract himself from the conversation.
Tawny tiptoed away from the gaming room. Though she wasn’t the one talking, she still felt a shiver of tension climb its way down her back.
So that was Westinghouse Senior.
Tawny sometimes wondered what it would have been like to have known her father. But after seeing such an imposing man cow a larger-than-life personality like Dylan, she wondered if she was fortunate to have missed the opportunity.
She wished she could have mused a bit longer, but the tea was swiftly becoming room temperature. She left the hall in a hurry.