Surely this Lady Eizenstrauss was indeed a peculiar woman, what with the way that she did her business. It hardly ceases to amaze me even to this day how stealthily she manages to conduct her business. Case in point: how my payment seems to always beat me home.

It was true. Every day that I worked, regardless of whether or not I kept to scheduled days, I would always find my payment for that day waiting for me in my apartment's mail slot before I got home. Yet never once did I ever see a messenger deliver it, nor have any of the postal worker I've spoken to about the matter admitted to carrying it to my mail.

Nevertheless, they were always consistent: they always came in a fine envelope, which was accompanied by a generic thank-you note and signed with an ink-stamped 'E' signifying who it was from and no more.

What's more, no matter how many times I visited the estate, I never gleaned any other hints nor clues. I'd grown quite bold in my repeated visits, even going so far as to sneak my way up to the mansion itself and try to peer into the windows, though to no avail. There were never any lit rooms on the first floor, and what little of the inside I could within were objects--furniture, decor and the modest like--of obvious age and worth, but poorly neglected and covered in layers of dust or spiders webs, or covered in white sheets.

I think it was perhaps the twentieth day of my service to Lady Eizenstrauss. I had been held up that day at the records office for much longer than anticipated, due to having to reorganize a box of paperwork marked with high importance that had come in just before the end of my shift. I almost thought to just skip the day and head home, but I thought that if nothing else, I would stop in and decide when I saw how many packages there were to deliver.

It was past dark when I got there, and as I was leaving the groundskeeper's domicile, I heard faint music coming from the mansion. A piano, by the sounds of it, accompanied by that of a soft violin medley. I followed the sound with my eyes, fixing on a second-story window that appeared to be open and the room beyond well-lit, though unfortunately, it was too high for me to see into.

At first, I simply listened to the music simply for the sake of admiring the soft, gentle beauty of it, but then it occurred to me that this was wholly unusual. Whenever I'd come here before, the mansion was quiet as a grave, and I had just assumed that Lady Eizenstrauss did not actually live there, and likely inhabited some fancy mountain retreat. Could this perhaps be the elusive butler, then? No, there were two instruments.

One of those instruments must be Lady Eizenstrauss, I thought, and I looked down at the two letters that I held in my hands. One of them, I noticed, was hastily scrawled--likely a late addition to the pile, and though I could discern the address easily enough, there was a bit of a smudge over a portion of it that anyone else could not have been faulted for misunderstanding.

This was the excuse I had been looking for, and, wiping away the triumphant smile on my lips so as not to betray my own plot, I stepped rapidly towards the mansion. I came to stand before the great double doors and looked up at them, eerily aware of the strange, symbolic designs carved carefully into them, like some ancient and dead language with which I was not familiar.

I waited long enough for the song to end, savoring the serene notes of the violin, and then reached forth and wrung the knocker on the door until I was confident that I'd been heard.

There was a distinct silence, then, and I stepped back so that I could watch both the door and the open window. All the while, however, I could feel my heart thumping with anticipation, and I clutched the letters to my chest in a vain effort to quiet myself.

Presently, the doors parted and I involuntarily seized up. It was him; the pale man I'd seen at the window answered the door looking the perfect mirror to the portrait I'd painted a few weeks ago. The only difference was that he was dressed somewhat differently: he still wore a black suit common to those in the stewardship service, but instead of a bow or a barren neck, a curious red ascott fell over the front of his shirt, making him almost look somewhat more human than I'd first envisioned him.

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He said nothing, merely looking at me questioningly and his body acting like a wall between my eyes and room beyond.

"Oh, I--" I stammered, suddenly having inexplicable difficulties finding the right words to convey myself.

"Miss Cleyne, isn't it?" he said in a crisp, yet hollow voice. I nodded and he asked another, "Is there some problem with your deliveries this evening?"

"Oh, no," I said, then caught myself, "I mean, yes, there is. You see, one of the letters has been smudged slightly and I can't quite make out the address."

He held forth his hand and I felt my heart sink a little. Surely he would be able to decipher the error easily and simply point me away with the right address.

I handed him the envelope, though, and he put it under his light. After a moment, a smile crept across his lips and he shot a knowing glance up at me. I knew right away that I had been seen through, yet to my surprise, he stepped back into the room and opened the door so that I might enter.

"Let us ask my mistress, shall we?" he said and bowed formally as I slowly stepped into the room, all at once feeling the heat of the great fireplace that stood across the way.

So Lady Eizenstrauss did live here! Though there was another curious note that drifted through my mind. Not so very long ago, the thought of being in this man's presence terrified me, to the point where I would shiver just thinking about him. Had I perhaps dwelt on his visage long enough that it no longer bothered me? Or was his seemingly more casual appearance to blame for the change?

Not only that, he was actually quite handsome--something that my portrait of him had failed to properly capture. He seemed to exude a sense of regal dignity and self-assuredness, and displayed a great deal of respect for my person, bowing to me as I entered and taking my coat with gentle prudence.

He bid me to make myself comfortable while he informed Lady Eizenstrauss of my arrival. I said I would and was about to make my way over to the fireplace when my foot caught on something that seemed to be lying across the floor.

I looked down and noticed that it was a long, silver chain which was attached to the leg of the butler on one end while the other trailed the length of the room and ascended the stairs and disappeared from view.

My gut reaction was to stare at this peculiar sight, but seeing as part of it was attached to a person, I quickly thought better of it and turned away, pretending I had not noticed. I saw him pause a moment out of the corner of my vision, and I could not shake the feeling that he was equally surprised by the event. Whatever the case, he left without a word.

As he did, however, I felt a sensation creep up my spine. There...wasn't any sound. I should have thought that a chain that size would have rattled as he walked, yet the only sound that issued from the room was that of the crackling of the fire and the persistent knocking of a great clock that hung above it.

The wait was agonizing. I suppose I had not really expected to have gotten this far, and my mind seemed to be trying to list and categorize all the questions I should try to answer about my mysterious benefactor. I found myself also wondering what to expect upon meeting Lady Eizenstrauss. Certainly, I had already formed a sort of image of her in my own mind, though looking back, I can only laugh at my own fancies.

After a moment I felt a sudden chill in the air and looked around me, nearly jumping out of my skin to find that the butler had returned and had approached me without my noticing. I should think the man must have the softest steps in the whole of the world for me not to have heard him in such a large and clamorous room.

"Lady Eizenstrauss will take you in her sitting room," he said, his voice more than made up for the silence of his approach, his tone thrumming in my mind. "This way, please."

He beckoned me to follow. I did, though not without a building sense of reluctance, as well as now and again stealing a careful watch on the floor so that I might avoid the chain that dragged along behind him.

Presently I entered a wide room filled with several small tables and chairs, all arranged around yet another great fireplace. One of the walls was lined with rows of books while a great piano sat in the corner of the room, its keys yellowed and its casing showing signs of wear from years of use.

Upon glancing around the room, I seemed not to perceive anyone within save for myself and the butler. I was about to ask him the meaning of this when a soft voice spoke out of the silence.

"Come forward, Miss Cleyne."

I knew that voice.