THE SAPPHIRE EYE
The voice of the estate’s butler, Godfrey, resonated throughout the halls as he shouted, “LYNN, WHERE IN THE DEVIL ARE YOU!”
Giving herself one last appraising glance in the tall mirror before her and rotating a full three-sixty, Lynn, finding her appearance acceptable—for the moment—grabbed her handbag and sunhat and dashed out of the room. Outside, beyond one of the windows that faced the main courtyard, she heard the stir and sputter of a car engine start, further incentivizing her to pick up her pace. Today was a special day for her, a day unlike any other. A day where, instead of being a housemaid, she could dress up, get out of Hampshire a while to explore the city. And most importantly, greet her lord, Drake.
She descended the flight of stairs leading to the ground floor, sliding down the mahogany railing to grant her a few more precious seconds. Already, her feet began to ache in her new heels. However, the prospect of seeing her lord, getting out of the estate and enjoying a trifle freedom far outweighed the risk of a twisted ankle or hurt feet.
Reaching the base of the stairs, she took off in a sprint. She had only the main lobby to pass now, navigating her way around the few maids busying themselves with domestic duties, around the obstacles of tables, chairs, statues of armor, divans, and other lordly looking things.
Lynn was about to pass through the vestibule and onto the front porch, but stopped upon hearing the yelp of a maid in distress. She stepped out and back into the lobby, following the ensuing cries. In the corner of the lobby, by a group of sofas settled in front of a fireplace, Drake’s concubine Rain was mercilessly and relentlessly thrashing one of her fellow maids with an open palm, each strike harder and firmer than the last.
There was something in Rain’s hand, between her thumb and forefinger, a pit of sorts from what Lynn could tell. The maid, a woman near Lynn’s age of twenty-one years who had also been displaced by the war, fell to her knees in supplication, trembling and sobbing.
“I told you no pits,” Rain said, with casual indifference, dumping the bowl of cherries she was holding on top of the maid. “Stupid fool…I could have choked on one of those. Honestly, why does Godfrey hire such bloody fools to work here—”
“If you don’t want pits in your cherries,” Lynn interjected, crossing her arms, “maybe you should remove them yourself…”
Rain’s body stiffened. Slowly, she turned towards Lynn, wearing that sinister, demoniacal smile of hers. The maid was still on her knees, her hands planted firmly in the ground, appearing too frightened to speak, let alone move.
Rain kept her gaze fixed on her and in a slow, threatening cadence. “Speaking of fools, The biggest one of all is here now,” she sniggered, then said to the maid, “Get out of my fucking sight.”
The maid scrambled to gather the fallen cherries, scooped them up in the bowl, and bowed, before leaving hastily.
“I’d rather be a fool than a whore who only knows how to spread her legs,” Lynn said, letting her arms fall by her sides as she clenched her fists.
“Careful, little maid,” Rain said sardonically, pacing around her. “You may have more privileges than most here, but don’t think that you’re exempt from my wrath.”
“Don’t think you’re exempt from mine,” Lynn retorted at once. “You seem to have been enjoying yourself in his absence.” Lynn felt her heart fluttering wildly, her vision narrowing on Rain. “It makes one wonder what your true intentions are. I heard that they’ve been catching quite the number of spies lately…”
“Me? A spy?” Rain said, placing a hand over her bosom. “Oh, you really would do anything to slander my name, wouldn’t you?” She sighed. “I suppose even if you bring country trash to such an esteemed place as this, trash is still trash, eh?”
“Bitch…” Lynn hissed, stepping towards Rain; ready to risk everything, even if it meant getting one good lick in.
Once again, Godfrey called from outside, his voice edged with irritation, “LYNN, IF YOU AREN’T OUT HERE IN EXACTLY TEN SECONDS, YOUNG LADY, YOU WILL BE LEFT BEHIND!”
Lynn tempered her hostility, taking one careful step back, never letting Rain leave her sight. “You don’t seem too eager about our Lord’s return. Are you even going to go greet him?”
Rain whirled, settling into one of the divans and lighting a cigarette, drawing from it and waving a gloved hand dismissively. “I have my own ways of expressing my gratitude to him,” she said with a sneer. “Now, run along before you get in trouble with Godfrey.” The words were final.
Lynn grit her teeth, suppressing her desire to thrash Rain right then and there. Their every encounter was much the same, the same war on a different battlefield. She often wondered what Drake saw in Rain, why he kept her around. It was evident that Drake, despite being the powerful and enigmatic figure he was, had the same weaknesses as any other man, weaknesses which Rain exploited thoroughly.
She sprinted outside, putting on her sunhat and in the process, nearly tripped on the stone steps. She regained her balance, and looked up to see a peeved Godfrey staring pointedly at her, his fingers drumming against the dark surface of the idling Rolls-Royce. His old, Anglo-Saxon face was as hard and stoic as ever.
Without a word, Lynn opened the backdoor and stepped inside, flashing Godfrey a nervous smile. The butler scoffed, putting on his black peak cap and shifting the car into gear, cruising past the tall iron gates and out onto the long, winding trails that would take them all the way to Portsmouth.
The sunny afternoon, comprised of a blue cloudless sky, blessed the port with the salt stringed winds of an idle sea. At the edge of the station platform, Lynn waited with the other patrons in anticipation of the arriving train. She felt the same nervous excitement she always did when awaiting for her Lord, Drake, yet found some calming comfort beneath the shade of her parasol.
All the same, she couldn’t hide it from Godfrey, who stood beside her, watching her intently. Lynn gave a sideways glance, aware that nothing ever escaped his scrutiny. Despite Godfrey’s age, which Lynn estimated to be around his late sixties, he was attentive, stalwart, keen of mind, and spoke with the air of one who expected obedience. Tall, wiry, and refined from head to toe, his authority was recognized by all on the estate, and most especially by Lynn.
The oncoming train was wailing as it made its approach, smoke billowing from its smokestack in furious black puffs, the engines powering its steel body towards them like some raging ebony beast.
Lynn began to well with ardor. Godfrey, ever reticent, glanced at his pocket watch, the hint of a grin playing on his lips.
Honestly… Lynn thought, what is his obsession with punctuality?
She was wearing her finest sundress and hat for the occasion, the teal fabric matching her hair, and a pair of snow white heels completing the outfit. Before departing, she opted to leave her umbrella, considering it an unnecessary hindrance, but Godfrey had insisted otherwise, stating it would be more lady-like of her to bring it along.
So far, she was enjoying her venture into the city. The sequestered estate that she, Godfrey, and Drake considered home was vast and self-sufficient, but ill-equipped for one as youthful and lively as she. Lynn took full advantage of the trip, ditching Godfrey at every chance, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
She’d explored the farmer’s market, eyeing fares and wares, freshly caught tuna, and the snapping of lobster claws. When she had grown bored with that, she strolled along the withering, moss-stained docks, and cobblestone walkways, casting her gaze along the murky black waters of the English Channel, in which warships, tugboats, and fishing vessels abound.
Ragged, musky Royal Navy sailors loading and unloading cargo from their ships whistled and cat-called as she passed by. Lynn, being no stranger to men’s attention—or foolishness, would twirl around as if gliding on the wooden floors of a ballet studio, offering a tantalizing peek of her smooth, athletic legs, as the silken fibers of her dress rippled and swirled like dancing leaves.
Yes, she was everything that was spring, green and good. The sailors would laud her for the performance with a barrage of hoots and hollers, and toss their spare coins. Then she would bow, blow them kisses and thank them for their applause.
“Merci! Merci!” she would say.
Any coins she collected she carried to the fountain at the plaza, and dropped them in so she could make a wish, satisfying one of the impulses of her childhood.
“Lynn.” It was Godfrey.
“Huh?” Lynn said, her eyes never leaving the train.
Godfrey stiffened and spoke in a calm, firm voice, “You're seemingly quite distracted today, Miss Valeska. Haven’t you had enough mischief of late?”
Lynn snickered. “Not really.”
He sighed, as he noticed the brooch pinned to her dress. It looked like a sapphire eye, oblong and ostentatious.
Lynn raised her chin. “What?” and said obstinately.
“That looks expensive…”
“So?”
“I would have thought by now you would have understood the importance of modesty,” Godfrey replied.
“If you must know,” Lynn said, “I purchased it from a thrift shop for five pounds. And Drake told me I could buy anything I wanted before he left.” She stuck her tongue out to salt his wounded pride.
Godfrey smacked his forehead, and sighed. “That’s Lord Drake or Master Drake to you, young lady. I suppose he also instructed you to be late for his arrival as well, hmm?”
Steeling herself and speaking in a firm, unapologetic tone, Lynn said, “Monsieur Godfrey, you do realize that the master’s train has not arrived yet, oui? We are standing here on the platform, perfectly on time, with minutes to spare.”
Before Godfrey could reply, the screeching cacophony of a braking train inundated them as it slowed against the tracks, fiery sparks struck from its wheels. As it came to a halt, the smokestack released its final coal-ridden breath, horns blaring and engine discharging cascades of steam from its mechanical snout.
The conductor, a stringy older man clad in a navy-blue uniform with golden buttons, emerged from the lead cart, doing a full walkthrough of the platform before returning inside.
A moment later, he appeared again, ensuring the ramp was properly attached to the cabin doors. He began ushering out the first group of passengers, all while telling each person in a prim, polite tone, “Mind the gap.”
Beside Lynn stood two nobles, the pretentious, aristocratic type that never afforded her a second glance. The woman, round and plump, with a generous bosom and broad rump, struggled to cool herself with a hand fan. A wig of some sort, blonde and disheveled, rested atop her pate like the head of a mop, framing her fat, heavily powdered face and drooping jowls.
Lynn assumed the fellow beside her to be her husband, a rotund man with mutton chop sideburns, red, pinched cheeks and a curly white mustache. His button-up shirt and waistcoat fought to contain his enormous belly, looking as if it might burst from stress at any second.
Lynn cringed, shifting her gaze to the pour of passengers exiting the first-class cabins. There were many faces, fat and thin, wrinkled and smooth, some bearded, others as pink as a baby’s bottom, yet none were the person she sought.
This seemed to continue on indefinitely, yet no sign of him. Lynn pondered if maybe he had missed his train, and decided to stay in London for another week. She learned that when dealing with Drake, a week meant three weeks and three weeks a month.
“Lynn! Godfrey!” Drake’s voice called from somewhere in the crowd.
Godfrey scanned for him among the throngs of first-class passengers, waving him over once he had spotted him.
Drake was a tall, dark-haired man, clad in a blue double-breasted suit, and matching fedora hat. He approached them with long, confident strides. From afar, he looked like some affluent man, perhaps a member of Parliament, or maybe the young heir to an old oil tycoon’s fortune.
“Master Drake,” Godfrey said, bowing before taking Drake's suitcase. “Pleasant journey, sir?”
“It was rather droll,” Drake said, turning his gaze to Lynn. “But it’s good to be back, right Lynn?”
Lynn, not wishing to incur Godfrey’s wrath, said nothing and smiled. It was bad manners to address one’s Lord in casual conversation.
“That’s quite unfortunate, sir,” the butler said, flatly. “I will go fetch our car. I shan’t be long.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd that flowed into the old station entrance, its dove gray edifice a vapid monument of the previous Industrial Revolution.
Drake's smile, as sharp as a knife, made her heart hammer in her chest as he spoke. “Did you get to explore the city today?”
“Yes! It was wonderful, ” Lynn replied at once, bursting with excitement. “Oh, and, my Lord… If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to come back soon. Preferably, without Godfrey.”
Drake chuckled as he swept away a stray hair that had fallen from Lynn’s head. “I'd like that. Godfrey on the other hand—well, he’ll just have to get over it.”
The two of them shared a light-hearted laugh.
Drake studied her with those dangerous blue eyes, akin to pools of sapphire. To Lynn, his mind seemed burdened, plagued by ancient terrors. With Drake's presence came the air of one who held exciting secrets, one who was content with their place in the world, one who always stepped forward without ever looking back.
“Your brooch,” Drake said, caressing the stone embedded within it. “How did you come about it?”
“Well…” Lynn said, tapping her forefingers together as she struggled to marshal her inner strength. “It’s just that—” She stared into Drake’s azure eyes, slowly losing herself in them. “It just reminded me of something special is all…”
Drake issued another one of his razor-sharp smiles. “Lynn,” Drake said, resting a palm against her cheek. “You really are… the leaves in the sun.”
