It was early evening, but still the darkness closed in, the fog swirling oppressively round the street corner. The carriage slowed, and halted outside a terrace of substantial houses. The door swung open, letting in the cold air. Emilia shivered, hunching her shoulders together under her cloak. Her companion, an older woman, perhaps thirty, leant over and whispered in her ear.
'Be sure what you are doing. I cannot come with you and there will soon come a point beyond which you cannot return.'
Emilia swallowed hard, blinking as if to clear her mind as she cleared her eyes. She had told Larissa of her dreams; they had troubled her, not so much because of what she did, but of how they made her feel. She shuddered slightly, fighting an almost overwhelming impulse to close the door and leave. Absent-mindedly, almost to no-one, she replied, 'I shall go.'
With that, she pulled the fur-trimmed hood over her head and stepped down from the carriage. The footman held the carriage door and she walked to the door of the house. As she mounted the first step, she noted the solidity of the door, the polished brass of the door knocker fashioned as a lion's head. She had hardly ascended the second step when the door opened, noiselessly, a silver-haired butler bowing his head slightly to her as she swept through the entrance. She drew back the hood and loosed the tie of the cloak from her throat. A maid, severe in black and white took her cloak and waited as she pulled her gloves from long, slim fingers.
'Please be seated; I shall tell the Master that you have arrived.' He indicated a chair.
'I would stand, thank you.'
'As you wish ma'am.' He retreated.
She looked around the room. It was not by any means lavish. A small fire burnt in the grate, and the floor was covered with a simply patterned rug. The walls were of dark wood panelling, and the curtains of heavy, red material. A small chandelier hung from the high ceiling. The chair to which she had been directed was of black wood, beautiful in form but austere. There were other, similar chairs. Above the fireplace was a large mirror. From where she stood, she could see herself, almost full length. She had not known what to wear for this occasion. Social events were easy enough, but this private appointment was different. She had settled for the dove-grey silk. She had been told it complimented her blue eyes. Larissa had told her not to worry, as her costume would be ready for her. She wondered what that meant exactly. She was still regarding herself intently, querying whether she would look as she did in her dreams when she heard a small cough. Turning, the maid had returned.
She curtseyed, 'Please, ma'am, follow me.'
She followed the maid down a corridor, floored with black and white tiles. She had felt such tiles in her dreams, as she knelt on them, or crawled to the feet of an unknown master. They would be hard and cold against warm skin. The maid opened a side door, and stood back, to one side.
'Please enter, ma'am. The master will see you'
This room was darker than the first. Dim gas lights around the room provided a pale yellow light. Directly opposite the door stood a man. He wore immaculate evening dress. Sitting erect in a chair to his right was a woman. She wore black silk, the high collar reaching almost to her chin, the sleeves falling to gloved hands. Only her face was visible behind her clothes. She must have been the same age as Larissa, but where her friend was plump and smiling, this woman was stern and slender. Her gloved hands grasped either end of a riding crop.
'Welcome' said the man, 'I hope your journey here was pleasant. Your friend Larissa has told us all about you, and about your troubling dreams. She has told us too, that you wish to experience your dreams. Is this correct?'
She could only nod.
'We assure you of our discretion, which is absolute. You realise that you may leave now, if you desire?'
'I do not wish to leave.'
