A Taste Of A Vampire

Yet on the other side of the world, because of gender, Elizabeth’s son had received a fortune, a title, the estate, and everything that came with it. It had gone from son to son until Nolan passed away with no heir, and then out of nowhere, her life was suddenly shifted back to where Elizabeth’s daughter’s life had left off four generations and a million miles before her. It was unthinkable to her that she came from any of it to begin with, and especially that she was going back to something that had been so far removed from her life that it was never even known. She wondered if there were any other distant cousins living somewhere in the world; anyone else who might take on the estate and the history and all of it, so that she could leave it all behind her and go back to her life in Manhattan as if the envelope hadn’t been delivered, and the phone call had never happened.

The train from Heathrow arrived at King’s Cross and Claire found herself grateful that she was familiar with large train stations, because it was the biggest one she had ever been in. After a long trek pulling her suitcase along with her, she found the platform where her next train was and she boarded. She had splurged for first class, and when she saw it, she was glad that she had. There was a small table for her to work from, a soft glowing lamp on the table, an outlet for her to plug in her phone and laptop with the electric adapter, and not long after the train pulled out of the station, an attendant came past with a cart of hot coffee and tea, decent-looking food options, as well as snacks and a cheerful smile.

She had coffee and a croissant, and watched the city fade away as buildings became smaller and sparser, and the land became wide and green. The English countryside outside of the train window looked to her like one long continuing postcard that she might like to jot a few thoughts on the back of and send off to her friends in the states to share the charm and sweetness of it all.

The time she spent on the train was relaxing for her and it seemed to her to fly by much faster than the train traveled. She stepped off it at a small train station in the countryside north of Oxford. It was so surreal to her that it felt as if she had just passed from the car of the train straight into a dream.

The sun was bright, though there was a glistening dew on everything that hinted at a morning rain which had passed and long gone. The air was fresh and sweet, cool on her face, and refreshing to her.

“Lady Everett!” a man’s voice called out, and it took Claire a moment to realize that it was her the man was calling out to. She turned her head and looked up.

He was in his late forties, with a slightly paunch belly that pushed at the belt on his trousers. His head was nearly bald at the top, but the hair on the sides of his head was carefully combed into place. His suit was pressed, though it didn’t fit him quite as it should have; the pants were a little long and his coat hung on him as if it was almost one size too big. He had an uncertain and hopeful smile as he tilted his head back and looked through his glasses at her, waving his hand in the air to her.

“Lady Everett!” he called out again and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks, knowing that they were turning bright pink.

She shook her head at him as she hurried to him trying to stop him from causing a scene. There were already a few people around them who had stopped and turned to stare at her. She waved her hand back and tried to speak as quietly as she could when she reached him.

“I’m Colin Dent,” he told her somewhat out of breath. “Please, call me Colin.”

“Please, just call me Claire,” she said with a polite insistence.

He tucked his chin slightly and his own cheeks turned a little pink as he looked over the top of his glasses at her. “I can call you Lady Claire, if you like,” he offered humbly.

She sighed, realizing that she was already in much further over her head than she imagined she would be. “Please… Please, just call me Claire,” she repeated.

He made a mumbled sort of answer that she didn’t quite hear and she could tell that he wasn’t going to do it. He reached his hand out toward her suitcase. “May I take your bag?”

She nodded and let him take it from her, glad to be free of it. He walked with her then to the car that was waiting in front of the station.

“How was your journey? I’m sure you must be exhausted.” He spoke with compassion.

“It was uneventful, and it was long. I’m pretty tired,” she admitted with a small smile. “How far is it to the house?”

A guilty sort of frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s another half an hour to the house,” he answered, but then he brightened somewhat. “I have had the cook prepare a meal for you though, so there will be that when you arrive. You’re probably hungry. Airplane food isn’t much good.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “…the cook? There’s a cook?”

He stopped mid-step for a moment, faltering as he seemed to remember that he was talking with an American who was completely unfamiliar with the situation. “Well… yes, of course. Yes, there’s a cook, and there’s a housekeeper or what we used to call a maid, and there’s a butler.”

Claire stared at him for a long moment as he put her suitcase and bag in the boot of the car. “Why are there so many people at the house?” she asked curiously.