The Ocean Systems
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The next morning, I found a message waiting for me. A courier was coming from the port to collect some documents I had prepared and then would be bringing them directly up to my office in town. This was good news. It meant that the negotiations with Ocean Systems were going well and I could expect an update later today.
The courier was scheduled to arrive by noon, but it was almost ten after now when he finally arrived. He carried two bulging envelopes wrapped in brown paper as protection against the elements of nature.
I was expecting to see Ocean Systems on this letterhead, but instead, there was only the name of their head lawyer, Mr. Smithson. There wasn’t even room for his address, which was just as well, since I didn’t know where they lived anyway. They did have offices here in town though so I could always send a message back if it was too hard to find them.
“Good morning,” the courier said, looking around at the street before he set down the packages carefully in front of me. “Are you expecting any more deliveries?”
I looked over at the small pile of packages that I hadn’t sorted yet. “No, not today.” I took the two envelopes, one in each hand, and handed him a bill of exchange for three hundred rubles.
He gave a slight bow and turned away. As soon as he stepped off the porch I ran out the door to grab the bags that we used to carry the mail between our house and the post office.
When I returned he was nowhere in sight, so I started carrying all the bags inside. We had been getting about a dozen letters and a few packages every day lately, and it was taking up most of my time trying to figure out how to sort everything.
Since we didn’t have a secretary to help us I ended up spending several hours every evening sorting things while I sat at my desk writing responses to the various questions. At least this meant I got a lot of reading done while working, so that was nice. I still had plenty to do, but it was much better than having to write letters every night.
As I walked through the rooms I noticed that someone had left some papers on the floor by the bed, and there was another envelope sitting under the edge. It must have fallen off when the courier put everything down. This was probably a note from my mother. I’d forgotten all about her letter.
I quickly went over and picked it up. It read: “Dear Son,
You may want to start thinking about moving into your new apartment, it’s already getting pretty full! You’re welcome to stay for a little longer if you need to, but it would be best if you moved out as soon as possible. I’ll give you some money for food tonight. Please don’t forget to pick up some milk!”
It was written in beautiful handwriting by the looks of it and was signed by Mother, who was apparently the only person allowed to sign our family’s names anymore. She always signed her name “Mother,” which I guess she thought made her sound official, but to me, it just sounded like she was trying too hard.
My father never seemed to care what people called him. He’d just say whatever was convenient at the time. I suppose he was right. People always wanted to get along with those in power, so why shouldn’t I use the same trick? That’s how I justified it anyway.
I folded the letter up and slipped it into my pocket. Then I headed downstairs. I didn’t really feel like eating any breakfast just yet, so I decided to check if anyone was in the kitchen, or if maybe they had some coffee brewing.
There were four large rooms in the basement that served as living quarters and a kitchen. One room was used as storage. The other three were used to keep our food.
The first one contained all the boxes and sacks of supplies. Most of this stuff was food, but there were also several barrels of flour and some dried vegetables in there. There was also a barrel filled with water that was kept in case we ever ran out of rainwater and needed to drink.
The next room was mostly used for storing pots and pans, although it did contain quite a bit of other stuff as well. A shelf above the stove held all of our cooking utensils, plus some other items that might come in handy. We had a lot of glassware and some tools too, as well as several large pots for canning and preserving food.
I knew I should take inventory sometime soon, but there never seemed to be enough time in the day. Maybe I could talk to my mother about it, so we could make sure nothing was getting overlooked.
The last room was used mostly for drying laundry. We had an entire wooden rack set up there for hanging clothes. I also hung my shirts up to dry whenever possible to save on firewood. But sometimes it rained, so I used the clothesline outside to hang my shirts instead. I was hoping to get a good load done before I left, so I had plenty of clean shirts to wear while traveling.
“Good morning, Mr. Bateleur,” Mrs. O’Brien called from the doorway, startling me for a moment. Her eyes sparkled with excitement in the early sunlight streaming in through the windows. She had been cleaning something behind her, so she was wearing the same apron that she usually wore around the house.
It was a nice deep maroon color that contrasted nicely against her pale skin. She was a tall woman, standing a little more than half a head taller than me.
We both smiled politely at each other. We weren’t actually on particularly good terms, but I wasn’t about to insult her by saying something rude either. She was always smiling and friendly, but I never saw her looking anyone straight in the eye for very long, except when she spoke to me of course.
I didn’t know what kind of upbringing she’d had, but it probably wasn’t easy. It was difficult for anyone to adjust to life in the city after growing up in the country.
My parents had always said that my grandmother, who had raised them since their mother died in childbirth, had been strict and unkind to her children. My grandfather on the other hand had been more lenient, even though he was often away working in town during my childhood.
I knew my grandparents were wealthy, which must have made it hard to raise a child back then. If only they’d stayed here, things might’ve gone better for all of us.
But no use in thinking about that now. They’d chosen to go away from home, which is why I had ended up in the orphanage, and they hadn’t come back. That was just the way it worked sometimes, you just had to move on and accept it. Besides, I’d gotten myself out of there eventually.
“Morning,” I said cheerfully, giving her my best smile. It didn’t seem to bother her much, although she still averted her eyes. I think I must’ve scared her when I showed up in her kitchen unannounced. Maybe she thought I would start throwing plates again.
She looked up and asked, “Would you like some eggs?”
I paused for a moment. Did I want some eggs? Not particularly. Eggs didn’t taste too bad, but it took a lot of energy and time to cook them, and most days I just couldn’t be bothered to spend any extra effort cooking something. I’d rather have toast and jam or oatmeal, but I knew I wouldn’t get any of those if I said that now.
I shook my head, and then added, “No thank you, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Oh, okay. Well then, have a nice day, Mr. Bateleur,” she replied. I nodded and turned to leave. She went back to her cleaning duties, leaving me alone once more.
I wandered around the rest of the basement, checking to see what everything looked like and making sure nothing else had gotten moved while I was gone. Everything seemed to be in order, and I started to wonder where the maids were hiding out these days. I’d caught them snooping around downstairs before, but not since last week.
I decided it would probably be best to let them keep doing whatever they were doing. I didn’t really mind it too much; if they didn’t want me finding out what they were up to, then maybe they could at least try to stay quiet about it.
When I got back upstairs, Mrs. O’Brien was just coming down the stairs. I was relieved to see that she still seemed happy to see me. I guess it’s better than being frightened of me.
“Did you eat yet? I was planning on having breakfast around eleven, so…” She trailed off when she noticed me, as usual, looking around for someone. This time there wasn’t anyone in sight, but there had to be something going on somewhere.
She gave me a strange look. “Are you feeling alright today, Mr. Bateleur? You don’t usually disappear this long without telling me anything.”
“Just… checking around a bit. Nothing to worry about,” I replied with an awkward shrug. “Anyway, you should get some sleep if you’re tired.”
“That would be nice, but I’ll pass. There’s still plenty of work to do around here.”
I sighed and left her alone, wondering what she was trying to hide from me now. As always, it was probably nothing.
I made my way back up to the main floor, passing by several maids that were scurrying about the house. I didn’t pay them any particular attention, as they were always busy. I wondered how many people lived here now—not just servants, but everyone in the household. How had the mansion managed to get so big in just a few generations?
I passed by the sitting room, the dining room, and even the library. I stopped in front of the large wooden double doors leading into the hallway. One of the maids was standing there, staring right at me. I felt my stomach churn, and I tried not to look directly at her.
She was tall and lean, with brown hair and eyes. I had seen her before, but I just couldn’t remember where. She stared at me until I walked past her, and then I hurried along to my bedroom to take a nap.
The End