A Good Game

Charlotte looked down at the large hand tightly holding hers. His fingers were smooth and engulfed her tiny hand completely. When her eyes looked up at him, she saw him regarding her thoughtfully. He seemed impossibly tall to her, but when he knelt down before her, she couldn’t help but return his smile. He had always made her feel safe.

“Do you believe me when I tell you I won’t let anything happen to you?” he asked her and she nodded. “I’m going to take you somewhere special. There will be other girls there and you won’t be alone anymore.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “It’s a wonderful place and you’ll be welcome there. It will be your new home.” Nodding silently, she stared deeply into his black eyes and somehow, she knew that he cared about her; her young mind trusted him implicitly. The thought of leaving behind a hungry, tired existence for one of comfort was more than she could ever dream of.

Suddenly, he stood and looked behind them. Her eyes followed his gaze in the darkness and scanned the large confines of the cavern. It had been a long trek, but he had carried her on his back most of the way, listening to her excited chatter.

The comfortable silence that had surrounded them suddenly shifted. The hairs on her arms stood up and a chill filled the room, sucking the air out in a gentle whoosh. Sensing they were no longer alone, her eyes probed the depths of the cave franticly, but couldn’t make anything out in the dark. Her excitement turned to alarmed curiosity.

“Charlotte,” he grabbed both her hands in his, “I need you to trust me now. Do you trust me?” When she nodded, he drew her closer to the center of the room, leaving the lantern behind. Once again he knelt before her and pulled her into his arms. Her skinny ones wrapped around his neck and she pressed her face against the rough fabric of his jacket.

“Just breathe deeply and it’ll be over before you know it. I’ve done this many times and there is nothing to be afraid of. This is the start of your big adventure,” he assured her, hugging her close.

It began as a hum that grew until she could feel the vibrations running through her body and her lungs struggled to expand. She blinked rapidly, thinking she was imagining things, but the dark swirling colors around them were not her imagination. She longed to reach out and touch them.

“Close your eyes,” he told her and she obediently squeezed them shut. “It’s going to be bright and cold, but I’m here and I’m not letting go.” His arms tightened around her and she felt a touch of worry.

The light burned through her closed eye lids until it almost hurt. She buried her face against his chest, fear finally overwhelming her curiosity. When the cold hit, it stole her breath away and she was frozen where she stood. The thunderous blasts echoed through the chamber and against her eardrums. She longed to press her hands against her ears, but she clung harder to her protector.

No longer able to move or breathe, her mind slowly shut down, as if she were going to sleep. The fear drained away and the roaring in her ears was replaced by dead silence. She didn’t know how long she floated, vaguely aware of his arms still wrapped around her tiny body, but when it stopped everything came rushing back in a blinding gust that pulled him from her and she was finally able to scream.

Charlotte sat up in her bed, chest heaving. Goosebumps covered her arms as she remembered the icy cold from her dream. It was the same one she had had for as long as she could remember. Memories of her early childhood were spotty and blurred. They weren’t so much memories, but sensations of hunger and abandonment. For some reason, the dream of that man felt more real than anything before that, but she couldn’t remember his name or his face.

Glancing around, she noticed the fire in the hearth had died down and she could barely make out the simple desk and dresser in the sparsely decorated bedroom. Although, it could hardly be considered a bedroom; it was simply a tiny room off the attic. It was isolated from the rest of the house, but it did have a balcony that she reveled in.

Slowly, she climbed off the bed to stoke the fire. Waiting for the dream to fade, she stared into the flames. She didn’t know what it meant or the significance of its frequency, but she was prone to odd dreams of strange places she’d never seen anyway. So she pushed it back into the secret box in her mind, a place where she tried to hide all the doubts and questions she had.

She stood up and glanced at the double glass doors that led to the stone balcony, her only solace. Leaving the warmth of the fire behind, she pushed them open and climbed up on the wide ledge, leaning her back against the stone wall of the house.

Her eyes searched the darkness, finally landing on the twenty-foot wall that encompassed the grounds. With a long sigh she turned her thoughts to her previous actions, the ones that had resulted in her banishment.

For years, her stay in the room off the attic, considered the ultimate punishment, had become more and more frequent, but she didn’t mind. She relished each small infraction, hoping that it would lead to her swift removal from the general population. It had become known as Charlotte’s room, even though she still had one downstairs amongst the others. She preferred the solitude, feeling out of place with the others who rarely questioned their place in life.

They were seemingly content with their sheltered lives, holed up in the enormous mansion and no longer allowed to venture out into the spacious grounds that had once been their playground. But not Charlotte; she longed for release.

Sitting three stories up on the stony ledge, staring down at the luscious gardens and immaculately maintained maze, she could daydream and remember how the grass felt on her bare feet. She could recall the excitement of climbing the towering trees, while pretending to be a princess hoping to be rescued from her tower by a dashing prince. The others never spoke of brighter days when they had ventured outside, acting as though they had never happened. Everyone knew that Charlotte was different, that there was something wrong with her. Why could she not just accept her lot in life?

Of course, no dashing prince had ever come to her rescue and the years passed, as the girls were sequestered inside the bricks walls of the house. They were left with rigorous studies and never-ending lectures to while away the days. As she grew, her mind wandered more frequently from her lessons and she lost herself in her daydreams.

Only on Sundays were they allowed a reprieve. Some read a book, drew or painted, others practiced their musical instruments, or did needlepoint. Charlotte preferred to gaze longingly out the windows, watching the flowers and leaves as they beckoned to her. Her classmates told her to stop pouting and wasting time, but she felt like all she had was time; an abundance that led nowhere but to more senseless lessons. In her opinion, she wasn’t pouting, she was mourning.

Blessedly, it wasn’t long after the doors to the gardens were locked that she discovered the freedom inadvertently granted through punishment, locked away upstairs where she could find peace in the open doors and admire what had once been her paradise.

So she sought out ways to be disciplined, effectively earning banishment to the attic. While the others shook in terror at the thought of being separated and alone, she took great joy in her disobedience. Here, looking over the gardens, she could breathe deeply the fresh air that was so sweetly caressed by the roses and marvel in the cool wind blowing against her skin.

On this night, like she had on many others, she found herself peacefully lounging on the ledge with her legs stretched out on the stone before her. She was fiddling with the end of her long, brown braid when she was shocked by the sudden appearance of a man as he stumbled out of the maze.

Although the sight of him caught her off guard, she remained still and simply watched, intrigued. Even from this distance she could see his chest heaving, as if he had run a mile. It was several minutes before he was able to stand up straight and lift his eyes to the sky.

The moon highlighted his face and she realized he was younger than she had first judged, now that he wasn’t heaving like an old man. She could plainly see that he was closer to twenty than fifty.

Not that she had any experience with men; she was limited to her interactions with the elderly butlers and descriptions written by her favorite authors. She salivated over Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy, the epitome of masculinity. Based on her current level of experience, or lack of, Charlotte knew right away this man wasn’t typical. And, to her chagrin, that he was far prettier than she was.

Her plain cotton shift was the same one all the girls wore to bed and she yanked on her long, mousy braid, wishing she was dressed and her hair in its usual chignon. She prayed she would blend into the darkness, invisible, but the white of her gown most likely acted as a beacon in the moonlight.

Sure enough, her luck didn’t hold. After regarding the full moon for several minutes, his gaze dropped and he noticed her perched up above him. His eyes widened in surprise to see her there, the firelight from the room casting shadows across her face.

He took a step closer. “What the hell was that?” he exclaimed, pointing towards the maze. His voice was deeper than she had expected after looking at his handsome face with its quirked brow, and she was violently self-conscious. This was definitely a man and he was beyond any expectations. His very stance exuded confidence.

She tried to shake off her insecurity. “That would be a maze,” she stated sarcastically.

“No,” he rebutted forcefully. “That is a death trap. That is where you send people to die.” His arms slapped his sides. “I was trapped in there for hours. My life literally flashed before my eyes.” He sighed wistfully and gazed at the sky. “It was really short. And boring.” He said it with disdain, but Charlotte was sure she had him beat in that regard. If only he knew.

“If you honestly spent hours in my maze, which I highly doubt because any idiot could find their way out, then I would have seen you enter.” She thought back to the hours she had spent sitting out here before taking to her bed. “But I didn’t, and I find it even less likely that I would have somehow missed you sneaking in.” She emphasized the word ‘you’ so he would know exactly what she thought of him so far; he was crude and lacked all propriety. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see through her false bravado and the fact that she was fascinated by him.

Dressed in the oddest clothing, which consisted of a dark, shiny jacket over a black shirt that clung to his chest, and loose pants that appeared to be made of a thicker material, she was perplexed as she took him in. His black hair was wild, sticking up in every direction. He was definitely not Mr. Darcy.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now.” He put his hands up. “No need for name calling there, Pollyanna.” His reference confused her, but by his inflection she easily surmised it was meant as an insult.

She squared her shoulders and brushed her braid back, trying to appear more ladylike, but being in her nightgown severely diminished any hint of maturity. At twenty, she was still waiting to gain a more feminine physique. It wasn’t until this moment, though, that she fully felt her lack of curves, longing for an hourglass figure. “My name is not Pollyanna, and you still haven’t answered my question. How did you come to be in my maze?”

He chuckled with his hands on his hips. “Your maze? You telling me you’re the cruel genius behind that thing?” When she simply stared at him, his smile dropped and he squinted in irritation. “Over the wall. How else would I get here?” He said it as if it should have been obvious to her, but she continued to stare at him blankly. “Come on,” he continued, exasperated. “The big, concrete wall on the other side of the maze. Kinda hard to climb, but if you’re desperate enough it’s doable.”

Her confusion only grew and apparently so did his as she unrelentingly regarded him without emotion. She had always been told there was nothing beyond the enormous wall and that the nearest town was many miles away. It was impossible to imagine him reaching their school, let alone scaling the plain wall that provided neither hand nor foot holds.

She was confounded by his presence, but the foreign word in his statement piqued her undying inquisitiveness. She loathed asking him and appearing ignorant, but once her curiosity became involved there was no stopping it. “What is concrete?” she questioned, aiming for confidence. And there it was, as she had expected: he looked at her like she was a head case.

“You’re kidding, right?” The familiar way he spoke made her uncomfortable and she began to wonder if she wasn’t still dreaming. Perhaps he was some kind of escaped servant, probably deranged. Maybe he’d escaped from an asylum. That would explain his odd behavior.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” she fired back.

He eyed her for a moment, long enough to make her squirm. “Sadly, no.” His voice was filled with disappointment.

She waved her hand at him in frustration and hopped off the ledge. She leaned on it, as if those few extra inches would emphasize the fact that she was above him physically and by station. “You are trespassing, need I remind you? What are you doing here?”

“Well, this was supposed to be a getaway, but maybe I would have been better off out there.”

“Probably,” she countered. “From whom are you running? The law? An insane asylum? From the look of you it’s not hard to envision you engaged in nefarious deeds.” His silence was all the answer she needed and she burst into laughter.

“There are extenuating circumstances,” he began, but she only laughed harder. “Things are rarely black and white, woman,” he continued, his voice robust.

“I concede that point and in your defense, at least you didn’t try to deny it. Only a coward would hide behind a lie.” He gave her the oddest look, one that she couldn’t decipher. Something perhaps bordering on remorse, but she ignored it and rushed ahead. “And just what was this despicable crime you committed? Did you murder someone? Steal a horse? Ravish a poor unsuspecting woman?”

He quickly pointed his finger at her and stepped closer. “I have never ravished a woman against her will.” He paused and his lips turned up into a sly smile. “They always beg for it.” She was stunned by his declaration and her grin slipped, which only made his widen, exposing his perfect, white teeth.

She drew back, apprehensive and reminded again of her inexperience with the opposite sex. “I guess you’re not above murder and pillaging, then?”

“Not if the situation calls for it, but it must be justified. I have a high sense of moral rectitude.” Even from the distance she could feel his eyes boring into hers, an eerie calm around him.

She sucked in a sharp breath and he suddenly relaxed, laughing at her. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of me. All the way up there.” He gestured to her balcony, high above him. “It would take at least a minute or so to figure out how to get up there, leaving you plenty of time to barricade the door.”

He looked left and right in feigned consideration, tapping his bottom lip with a long finger. “That trellis is most inviting, though. Strong ivy, but it could be slow going. One never knows how sturdy those things really are until they’re halfway up.” He licked his lips. “Only one way to find out.” He clapped his hands together and her eyes grew large as he contemplated his ascent.

After a moment of silence, he bent over and laughed at her again.

“You’re mocking me,” she huffed and her shoulders slumped.

“Of course! Why on earth would I struggle all the way up there?” His face turned serious in the blink of an eye. “You’re not begging. At least not yet.”

She watched his stoic expression for a moment, before groaning and turning to go inside.

“Wait, wait!” he called after her. Begrudgingly, she turned to face him and raised her eyebrows in question. She couldn’t help but wonder what ridiculous thing he would say next, yet she found herself eager for his voice. “How exactly does one get out of here?” he asked innocently, disappointing her.

“You seem a resourceful type. I’m sure you can figure it out,” she told him. He looked pensively at the maze behind him, obviously not in a hurry to return there. “Well, you could always try the door.” She pointed below her. “But I have to warn you; it’s guarded by a gigantic troll who eats children and would probably relish in stripping you of your skin.”

In her mind she saw ancient Thomas, haunting the many halls and making sure none of the girls wandered out of their rooms. He may not look like a troll, but he definitely acted like one. She wouldn’t mind watching this man encounter him. A small smile played at her lips, envisioning the older man throwing him out on his rear.

“No, you’re wrong.” The stranger drew her attention back to him.

“Excuse me?” Who exactly did he think he was to question her in such a disrespectful manner?

“It’s ogres who eat children. Not trolls,” he argued sternly.

“No, I’m sure it’s trolls,” she insisted and leaned over the edge.

“And I’m telling you it’s ogres. Do you have one of those parading around inside that monstrosity of a house?” he dared.

“No, you are wrong.” She felt her temper flare. “It’s trolls, and to answer your question, no.” She paused thoughtfully. “The ogre actually hides in the maze. It’s a wonder you survived. So, be careful whichever way you choose.” Her tone claimed she didn’t care, but she was actually quite captivated.

He pursed his lips at her. “Fine. I’ll concede.” His tone conveyed that he was bored with the conversation. “They both eat children, but do I look like a child to you?” Her heart skipped a beat as she looked him over. He was definitely not a child.

He smirked knowingly at her. “Regardless, if you don’t tell me how to get out of here, I’m coming up.” He motioned to her balcony. After giving her only a brief moment to reflect on his words, he ran and jumped across the planter full of daisies, diving for the base of the trellis. She gasped at his audacity and agility as he quickly climbed closer. Startled by how fast he moved, she squeaked when he leapt gracefully over the ledge. He’d clearly done this before.

Charlotte backed up until she hit the wall, her hand gripping her shift protectively over her heart. He grinned devilishly and eyed her with open fascination. She was smaller than he had expected and if not for the defiant gleam in her eyes, she could have been mistaken for a teenager. The large brown eyes and cherubic shape to her face only added to her child-like appearance, but he wasn’t fooled. The awareness in her gaze didn’t belong to a sixteen-year old.

“Calm yourself, ma’am. I’m only here to get a better view. I’ll take my chances in the maze, but I need to develop a formal plan of attack first. Besides,” he shrugged her way, “how guilty would you feel if you came across my decaying corpse when you walked through your maze?”

Caught off guard, she answered before she could stop herself. “I’m not allowed in it anymore.” She immediately wished she could swallow her words and rolled her eyes at her stupidity.

The look of surprise on his face filled her with embarrassment and color rose in her cheeks. “Your maze, huh? You’re not allowed to venture forth into your own maze? Doesn’t really sound like it’s yours, then, does it?”

“What I meant by ‘my maze’ is that I live here, therefore, it is my maze,” she stammered. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“So, what happened?” He repeated his question when she was silent. “Are you a prisoner?” he asked, only half kidding.

She faked a laugh and shook it off. “Of course not.”

He turned fully towards her and lounged against the ledge, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. She declined in distaste when he offered it to her. He shrugged. “So, if you wanted to leave, then you could do so at any time?”

“Well, there is a fearsome troll inside. It’s no easy task to get out.” She cringed at the high pitch of her voice. His proximity was more alarming then she’d anticipated and she didn’t seem able to speak without a humiliating squeak.

“Escape, you mean,” he clarified.

“I didn’t use that word.” Anger filled her and her fascination nearly came to an end.

“No, I did.” He waited for her rebuttal, but she only pressed her lips together. His eyes drank her in, unsure. “Does it apply to you?” He seemed genuinely curious.

She put her hands on her hips. “I thought you were here to get the layout of the maze.”

“I am.” He slowly did a half-turn and gazed out. “Don’t rush me. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.”

“Well, that’s fantastic.” Her words were short. “I must retire, so feel free to take as long as you like.” She was forced to step closer to him to make her way to the open door. Being near him, she could smell his cologne and it was unlike anything she had smelled before. Her head turned towards him as she inched closer, reminded again that she was having her first real encounter with a man. And they were entirely alone. She swallowed hard and reached out to grab the handle. His hand dashed out and grasped her wrist.

He held her in place for a silent moment before he spoke. “I can’t pick out the wall I climbed. Unless you want to awake and find me curled up out here, I highly suggest you pinpoint the clearest way out.”

She looked down to where he held her, breathless with the knowledge that he was touching her. Even the house doctor was a woman, and the old butlers were uninviting and loathsome. There were younger men who worked the grounds, but they were kept far away from the girls. She only glimpsed them through the windows.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. They were the darkest eyes she had ever seen, black in the darkness. Only the light from the fireplace reflecting in them, gave any sign of life. Her gaze skimmed over his high cheekbones and pronounced jaw, to hover over his well-defined lips. An unbidden image of them on her skin popped into her mind and her cheeks flushed.

His fingers slowly drew circles on her inner wrist, clearing all thoughts from her mind. She had trouble forming words and stuttered, “I, uh, don’t know how you plan on getting up that wall. I’ve never actually seen it. Um, we were kept away from the farthest areas.”

Her eyes danced over his face again, noticing the stubble on his cheeks, proof he hadn’t shaved for at least a day and a stark contrast to the perfectly smooth cheeks of all the men there. He was rough all over, from his unkempt hair and unshaven face to his strange clothing, which accentuated his strong chest and the belt that hung low on his hips. She realized she had been staring when his brow lowered, drawing attention to his widow’s peak.

“I thought you said you had never been in the maze.” He spoke quietly.

“No, I said I’m not allowed. I haven’t been in it for many years, but I used to spend a great deal of time running through the approved sections when I was a girl.”

“That’s horrible. I can’t imagine having something you love so much taken from you.” His voice was soft with understanding. She wasn’t prepared for his sympathy and was shocked, while his finger stroked the inside of her wrist, as if to console her. Or to stir her up, more likely.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she heard the key hit the lock. Quickly, she turned to the heavy wooden door of the bedroom, her heart hammering in her chest.

His eyes flew to the door and then back to her. “Are you locked in here?” He was appalled and his grip tightened when she tried to pull away.

“Go away.” She wrenched her arm free and shoved his chest, pushing him into the shadows and waving her arms around his cigarette, trying to dispel the smoke. She shoved him roughly against the wall and looked pointedly at him, her warning finger in his face, before stepping into the light as the door opened.

“Madam,” she spoke and had to clear her throat. “It is late. You startled me.” Knowledge of this strange man hiding only a few steps away made her heart race. She could feel his eyes glaring at her, but she refused acknowledge him.

In the open door stood Madam, a tall, handsome woman with strong features and long, silky hair. At the moment, she was wrapped in a thick robe and her hair was pulled back in a tight braid, highlighting her arched eyebrows and shrewd, blue eyes. Her candle led the way as she entered the room. “It is very late and you should be asleep.” She came closer, her eyes sweeping the corners. “I was sure I heard you speaking to someone. Are you alone?”

“Of course, Madam.” Charlotte’s eyes remained glued to the floor. “It is not even possible for anyone else to be here.” She was not able to hide the hint of bitterness in her voice and she felt shame knowing that he heard it too.

Madam’s eyes squinted skeptically. “I indulge you and allow you to view the gardens, do not take advantage of my generosity. If I discover you are lying, I will nail those doors shut.” She motioned to the small bed pressed against the wall. “It is very late and you must get up early. Come inside.” She turned to go.

“Of course, Madam.” Charlotte turned and reached to close the double glass doors without lifting her eyes. Still in the shadows, he risked discovery by grabbing hold of her wrist again, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Trent,” he said, barely a whisper.

“I don’t care,” she hushed him and closed the doors, but she could still feel him watching her through the glass, hidden by the fire’s reflection. When she spun around, Madam was watching her from the doorway. “Goodnight, Madam.”

“Goodnight, Charlotte,” she returned and left her, turning the key in the lock.

After a deep breath, she quickly strode to the bed and plopped down on the edge. Almost afraid to see him there, but hoping to, she lifted her eyes. Sadly, all she saw was her own reflection.