4. Godfrey/Eleanora

The House of Halfacre appeared out of the smog like a shining steel and brass monolith. It was huge, rivaling the sizes of even the largest steam powered passenger ships currently sailing the high seas, but its shape was more an irregular oval, most of its mass was vertically oriented, with many levels stacked atop each other. Towers and terraces jutted off the sides, flanked by turbines and great balloons of hydrogen gas helping to keep the massive machine afloat. Hulking steel chains, like those of a ship’s anchor, arched down from the base, mooring the whole complex to the city far below.

The gondola swayed in the wind as they rose towards Godfrey’s family home. Eleanora reached out, leaning her light body against his to steady herself. Godfrey’s feet kept him planted easily enough, remembering years of living on airships as though he hadn’t just spent the last half a decade on the ground. As if he had only left yesterday.

He was glad for her touch. Somehow being so close to home had stirred up his nerves.

The gondola glided, and then with a CLUNK and a jolt it locked into place in front of the dock. Godfrey slid open the door and gently helped his wife step off the unsteady thing.

She gasped as she stepped out into the entry courtyard, a cold wind rushing over her body, billowing her dress around her. The whole of the House Halfacre was built from ground up with one purpose above all else, to intimidate. Every corner of the home demonstrated power and superiority, but the courtyard entrance was something uniquely terrifying.

The wide open space in front of them had no walls nor railings, in fact the floor here was built with a slight curve, barely noticeable, but enough to unsettle anyone who hadn’t grown up walking amongst clouds. The courtyard floor was of cobbled stone, from its center however bloomed a great rose of stained glass. The thick glass, set into the floor allowed a brief glimpse at just how thin the cobbled surface really was, demonstrating an odd illusion of safety and peril. The cobbles on their own looked thick, durable. To look at them you might be able to pretend you were still on the ground with thousands of miles of dirt between you and hellfire. The glass, lit from both above and below, entirely shattered that illusion. The vines of the rose, wide as they were, wove across the whole of the courtyard, forcing guests to either walk across the smooth glass surface, or make efforts to step over it.

The center of the courtyard, the place where one might have stood to feel as far from the edge as possible, was occupied instead by a large ornate fountain, the petals of the rose forming its halo. The fixture featured a statue of Helios, holding in one hand a pair of shears and in the other the bloodied wings of Icarus.

To guests, visitors, and trespassers alike the message was clear. As Icarus was a stranger to the heavens, so too are you a stranger here. Take care not to fly too high in the House of Halfacre.

“My boy!” Godfrey heard the voice cry out from the far end of the courtyard, and smiled as his grandfather hobbled out to greet them, a beautiful cane with a copper pommel taking most of his weight.

“Grandfather Cornelius!” Godfrey rushed across the courtyard, leaving his petrified wife affixed to her spot right next to the gondola.

He gave the old man an excited, yet gentle hug. Even through his grandfather’s thick three piece suit he could feel how thin he was. So much lighter than when he had left for university.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?”

Cornelius grunted, “no! Why on God’s good earth would I? Worm got your brain, boy?! I pay servants to do that sort of work!” His beard bobbed up and down with every word, his tophat slightly askew.

“Oh you pay them now? ALL of them?” Godfrey eyed the old man.

Cornelius growled, his face contorting. “I’ve ... started paying MOST of them! As per my dearest grandson’s request...”

“Not all?”

The old man scrunched up his face even further, his face turning red. “Five minutes here and you’re already pestering me! Since when did pragmatism have to be such a crime?! Why don’t you quit being so rude and introduce me to this lovely lady!”

Now it was Godfrey’s turn to scrunch up his face. “Rude?! Grandfather, you keep slaves!”

“And I’m right polite to every one of them, aren’t I?! Polite enough!” This sparked another quarrelsome back and forth.

Eleanora glanced between the two men as they bickered. She forced herself to breath in and out, deep breaths, even as the wind seemed to whip them away with every exhale. Her eyes darted around the courtyard. The airship had been one thing, the gondola another, but THIS ... this was on a whole other level.

She felt dizzy, clutching onto the side of the gondola’s dock, mere steps away from the edge. One involuntary lean forward, one sudden strong gust of wind, that’s all it would take for her to go plunging off the side. She glanced up at the two men and for the briefest moment her eyes locked with the eyes of the old Master Cornelius.

Eleanora saw it there, the violence. There was so much of it, his soul nearly full all the way up. Violence of all kinds plagued his mind, and just like with everyone else, in that moment all of it was directed at her. Eleanora saw his desire, his need, to hurt her, to rape her, to torture her with sadicious glee, to wrap his fingers around her slender neck and choke the very life from her body. In his eyes she saw how he saw her. An object, a pretty thing to enjoy, to take pleasure in dehumanizing, and little more than that.

She forced herself to ignore it. To look instead at the face of the man. His weathered features, the sad twinkle in his eye, the pale complexion of a man nearly gone. She tried to imagine him smiling at her. Tucking her into bed, the way her father had. The way he must have once tucked Godfrey into bed, so many years ago.

Eleanora let go of the dock and finally took her first few ginger steps across the courtyard.

Godfrey moved to take her arm but his grandfather held up his cane to stop him. The two men waited as Eleanora made her way slowly across the cobbles, forcing her fear down. She stepped carefully at first, but with either fake or perhaps even some amount of real confidence, she allowed herself to relax, going from a shuffle to longer steps.

The whole of the House of Halfacre moved. A constant gentle rhythm like that of a ship adrift, side to side swaying with the wind. The high heels of her button boots caused her feet to roll slightly on the cobbles with each step. Upon reaching the stained glass she hesitated a moment, then stepped onto it, crossing over the slippery surface as one might cross a simple sidewalk.

When finally she reached the two men, she looked up to find them both beaming at her.

“Look at you...” Cornelius held out his arms, giving her a hug, his embrace surprisingly strong. “LOOK at you! A true Halfacre if I ever saw one! Soon you’ll be flying like the rest of us!”

Her husband pulled a strand of red hair out of her face. “You never cease to surprise me.”

Eleanora wanted to respond, but truth be told she was still out of breath. Instead she gave the men a nonchalant, confident smile.

Cornelius ushered the two to the far end of the courtyard. “Come on then, you two must be starving after such a trip! I’ve already had Clement prepare us a right fine feast!”

Crossing the path leading into the main hall, Eleanora kept a few fingers gripping onto Godfrey’s sleeve. She noticed that lining the common grounds were the same plants she had seen on her way through London. Droseras, their long viny tendrils reaching up towards the sky, only these looked slightly different. They crawled up the walls like vines, reaching windows and balconies. Flowers bloomed all over them, beautiful pink petals that enticed her to come smell them, only she knew what might happen if she ever did get close to the hungry plants.

This whole place is one great big flying death trap, she thought, if I am ever to bear children for Godfrey we shall have to make a few modifications to the grounds.

Once inside the building Eleanora breathed an internal sigh of relief. The constant nauseating sway of the complex was still there, but at least the wind and the horrible railing-free edge was gone.

The two of them were led into the dining room, servants pulling out their chairs for them. Godfrey and Cornelius sat at opposite ends of the long table, a bit of an awkward distance in Eleanora’s mind, but they seemed to consider it normal. She in turn found the seat offered to her to be one nearest her husband.

Eleanora felt strange sitting at such a beautiful table, set with delicate hand painted Chinese porcelain, still feeling as though she wasn’t allowed here. Unfamiliar faces on the walls, portraits of the long dead ancestors of the House of Halfacre, seemed to glower down at her in disapproval.

Cornelius waved over a smartly dressed butler, who approached him, respectfully remaining slightly behind the old man as he leaned in.

Cornelius murmured, “Porthos, go and inquire after the whereabouts of young Arabella. I have a feeling she may have snuck off again.”

The butler gave a slight nod. “Of course, sir. The young lady certainly has impeccable timing.”

“Just so.” The old man grumbled, then to the two of them, “I had planned for this dinner to be something of a ... a proper introduction to the family, but it seems we’re missing a guest.”

“I hope you’re not referring to me.” A voice came from behind Eleanora and she turned around to see a woman standing in the dining room doorway.

Her hair was dark black, and pinned up in a slightly messy bun. Her features were quite beautiful, she looked to be in her late twenties, early thirties, and had a kind of disciplined elegance to her. She wore simple clothes, a white shirt, buttoned all the way up to her neck, and a long green skirt that went down to her boots. Eleanora noticed that both the boots and the skirt were dirtied with mud.