Jest "It waits no longer"

JEST

It waits no longer…

by

David Warren

Published by

Brighton Publishing LLC

501 W. Ray Rd.

Suite 4

Chandler, AZ

Copyright 2011

ISBN 978-1-936587-15-5

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Tom Rodriguez

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

There are many wonderful castles in England which are cared for by equally wonderful people. The castle portrayed in Jest is not one of them. Bodlum Castle is a figment of my imagination and any resemblance to any castle or its staff is purely coincidental.

With that being said, I would like to acknowledge several people for their help with this project. First, I would like to thank the Good Lord above, through whom all things are possible. I would also like to thank Michael McIrvin for his help as well as the great folks at Brighton Publishing. Last but not least, I would to thank my wife Suzanne for all her help and honest feedback, and for putting up with me throughout this process.

David Warren

To you Mom, with love

PROLOGUE

The river Rother, nestled between Kent and Sussex, sparkled brightly from the reflection of the full moon, the water relatively calm this late June evening, only the slightest of breezes to be found. A couple of miles downriver in East Sussex, the Rother flowed past a large lake. In the center of the lake, appearing to float majestically was a large, quadrangular stone castle built in the middle Ages. Surrounding the lake was a broad expanse of greenery, the perfect setting for a childhood fairytale.

Though the castle was sealed off from the outside world, it was airy and open. Large, symmetrical towers loomed high above a broad open court below. Spiral staircases led up through the towers and other stairways wound their way through the many corridors and halls.

Ownership of Bodlum Castle passed through many hands over the past six hundred years. During that time, the castle received very little attention, and repairs were neglected. In 1919, however, Edward Carzon came into ownership, and things began to change. He began restoration, and the repairs continued until his death in 1937. His only child, Edward Carzon II, inherited the castle and continued the restoration process.

Now, old and frail, his lungs filled with cancer, Edward Carzon II lay wide awake in the main state bedroom. The furnishings of the room were done in rich crimson velvet, and the walls were decorated with Brussels tapestry. Temporarily giving up on sleep, Edward sat upright in his king-sized bed, his red satin sheets dropping down to his navel. Even though most of the castle had efficient electric lighting throughout, Edward still preferred the natural light of a candle. He took a pack of matches from his nightstand and lit a large candle standing next to a picture of a beautiful brown-haired woman dressed in a floral gown and holding an umbrella. A small tear formed in the corner of Edward’s eye. I’ll see you soon, my dear Martha.

Wiping away the tear, Edward opened his nightstand’s small drawer and removed a stack of letters, which were held tightly together by a rubber band. He removed the rubber band and opened the topmost letter to read it for the tenth time that day. He smiled broadly and patted his long white beard. Precious child, he whispered. Finishing the letter, he put the stack aside and blew out the candle. Smiling, Edward laid back down. He had finally come to a decision, and in the deepest depths of his heart, he knew it was the right one.

***

The following morning, the creaking of his old wooden bedroom door awakened Edward. Squinting against the early morning light streaming through a large window nearby, Edward saw Roger Helmsley enter the room pushing a food cart. Good morning, sir.

Good morning, Edward replied, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

How are you feeling today? Roger asked, setting a tray across Edward’s lap.

Better than I have in a long time, my friend, Edward answered. Why not have one of the girls bring this up? He gestured to the cart. This isn’t your job.

I wanted to see if you came to your senses—if you are now willing to start the treatment the doctors have been telling you about.

Giving Roger a knowing look, Edward sighed. We both know bloody well I’m far beyond that.

But nowadays they can . . .

They can what? Edward interrupted. Poke and prod me to make my last days as uncomfortable as possible?

Roger ran his hand through his thick dark hair, some of which was starting to turn gray. I brought you eggs.

Edward chuckled, which turned immediately into a fierce fit of coughing. After a moment, he managed to regain his breath and said, I appreciate your sentiments, Roger. I really do. You have been a loyal caretaker and a good friend. But to tell you the truth, I miss Martha more and more every day. I’m happy with the life the Lord has given me, and I’m content with my death as well.

Let’s not talk that way, Roger said.

Very well then, Edward replied. Do me a favor and ring up Mr. Willis.

Your solicitor? Roger asked, surprised.

Tell him I must meet with him today. It’s of the utmost importance. I must make some changes to my will before my maker claims me.

Changes? Roger raised his eyebrows. I thought everything was settled.

Well, I finally decided I cannot let my incompetent son inherit this castle. Edward sighed. It breaks my heart to say so, but it’s true.

If I may be so bold, sir. I couldn’t agree more, Roger said hesitantly. I have to say, having been the caretaker here for the past twenty-five years, it would almost kill me to see all the hard work you and your father put into this place go to . . . Roger lowered his eyes. I’m sorry, sir, for speaking ill of your son.

Nonsense, Roger, Edward replied with a wave of his hand. He’d bring this place to shambles.

Roger smiled. Yes, sir.

Now don’t worry, Edward said, reaching over and patting a stack of letters on his nightstand. The castle will be in very good hands.

Oh, Roger replied, his smile fading. Um, I’ll fetch Mr. Willis.

Yes, Edward said, still looking at the letters. Very good hands indeed.

Chapter One

Orlando? Danielle Wallace asked as she flipped through a large brochure. Disneyworld?

Overrated, Nicole Carzon replied as she brushed her short blonde hair. Where else?

I give up! Danielle sighed, collapsing onto Nicole’s queen-sized bed. We’ve been doing this for hours.

Turning from her vanity, Nicole responded, We’ve been working every summer since our junior year in high school to save up enough money to go on an unforgettable vacation when we graduated.

So?

So we’ve now not only graduated from high school but just finished our sophomore year of college and we still haven’t gone! Nicole exclaimed. We have to get out of here. Then, her voice softened. "I have to get out of here."

Danielle got off the bed and walked over to Nicole. Is it that bad? she asked quietly.

Yep, Nicole mumbled.

Okay then, Danielle said, grabbing the brush from Nicole. Where to?

Someplace exciting. Nicole smiled, cheering up. Not someplace everybody goes on vacation.

Like where? Danielle asked, examining her hair in the vanity mirror. People always told her she was the spitting image of a slightly younger Vanessa Williams. Your choice.

Maybe someplace— A loud rapping on her bedroom door interrupted her. Come in . . . she started to say when the door swung open. A tall, thin man with a receding hairline entered the room.

This came for you in the mail today, he said, holding out an opened envelope.

You opened it? Nicole asked incredulously.

Glancing at Danielle, he replied, It came that way.

Don’t you know it’s a criminal offense to open someone else’s mail? Nicole snapped, snatching the letter from her father. She unfolded a single sheet of paper and began to read.

Dear Miss Carzon,

I am very sorry you couldn’t make it from the States to come to your grandfather’s funeral. I know you two kept in touch quite a bit . . .

Nicole looked up from the letter in shock. Grandpa died? Her father nodded. When?

A week and a half ago, he answered nonchalantly.

And you didn’t tell me?

Nope.

Why not? Nicole asked, her voice rising several decibels and nearly an octave.

What was the point? We couldn’t have afforded to fly to England to go to the funeral anyway.

So you just decided to not even tell me my grandfather died! Nicole yelled. How could you?

Oh, come on, Nicole, her father replied, taking a step forward. It’s not like you two were even close . . .

Yes we were! Nicole exclaimed, tears streaming down her face. I haven’t seen him since his last trip here a year ago, but we wrote to each other all the time! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!

I’m sorry, all right? It just slipped my mind, he said, the scent of whiskey heavy in the air. Read the rest.

Oh, since it was already open you decided to read it too, Nicole snapped, returning to the letter.

. . . kept in touch quite a bit. He spoke often of your letters and what a fine young lady you had grown to be. When he was feeling his worst, he would get out your letters and read them time and time again. I am certain you made his last days a bit more bearable.

On behalf of the late Edward Carzon II, I would like to notify you of your inheritance of the Bodlum Castle in East Sussex, England. Your grandfather has set aside more than enough funds to allow you to fly over and take command of the castle and its staff.

At your earliest convenience, please use the attached business card and contact me by telephone to inform me of your intentions regarding this matter. Again, I am sorry for your loss, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincerely,

Andrew G. Willis Esq.

Nicole looked to the top right hand side of the letter and noticed two puncture holes where something had been stapled. Where’s the business card?

I have it, her father replied.

May I have it? she asked calmly.

Not yet, he replied. Not until we’ve discussed what you’re going to tell the lawyer.

Excuse me? Nicole said, taking a glance at Danielle, who was frozen like a statue near Nicole’s bed.

I mean you are going to get on the phone and tell this loser you are granting me ownership of the castle, he said sternly.

No, I’m not, Nicole replied.

I’m sorry, he said, his face turning bright red. I didn’t quite hear you.

I said I’m not telling the lawyer that. Why should I?

I’ll tell you why, her father snapped. I am Edward Carzon III! I’m next in line for that castle, not you!

Well, Grandfather saw it otherwise, Nicole retorted. Now may I have that business card?

Edward Carzon III stared at his daughter for a long moment. Then, reaching into his pocket, he took the business