Clara was a little apprehensive as the large wooden door before her opened. From her perspective, she had only left Roft Manor six weeks ago, and yet her family had not seen her in over two years. She knew that she would have some explaining to do. From behind the door emerged an elderly, well-groomed man in a tuxedo. He was quite tall, about six foot one and stood with excellent posture. The old man smiled in delight when he saw who was on the front stoop.
"Thank goodness!" the old butler exclaimed, shirking his usual air of decorum for a brief moment. "Forgive me, Lady Roft, but we had all been praying that you would return to us, safe and sound."
"Hello, Warwick," Clara smiled warmly at the old man. Jeff, who had been standing just behind Clara, smiled in greeting as well. The old man held the door wide open for Clara and her mysterious companion as they both entered, Jeff carrying the pack containing the magic lamp over his shoulder. Warwick closed the door behind Jeff and followed him into the large foyer, walking up to Clara.
"I shall inform the lady and his Lordship of your arrival, milady," the butler said. He tipped his head briefly in respect and then ascended a nearby staircase to the second level of the house, turning a corner at the top and disappearing from sight. Jeff strolled around aimlessly, admiring pretty much everything; the elegant wall panels, the expensive-looking artworks hanging from them, the stained glass window above the door being illuminated by the daylight...
"So this is where you live?" he asked.
"That's right." Clara replied.
"Not bad..." he said, in a mock-unimpressed tone. Clara sent him a genial smile and they both chuckled at the bad joke. For Clara, it felt good to be home again. Her wild heart was forever dragging her off to some ancient building or another. Occasionally, her adventures would even take her into the concrete jungle. There was nowhere she wouldn't go to find the most fantastic and well-hidden artefacts. Some she'd keep, some she'd lose, but any treasure she sought would always come into her possession for at least a time. It always felt good to come back to Roft Manor at the end of an adventure, though. She loved it here. It was the only place she'd ever really called home. Her father had given her the deed to the second-largest of his three mansions on her eighteenth birthday, but she rarely ever stayed there. Roft Manor was more than large enough to accommodate the small family of three, and Clara enjoyed being with her parents.
"Clara!" a woman who could only be Clara's mother exclaimed in astonishment, from atop the staircase via which Warwick had left. Jeff could easily see the family resemblance, although she looked too young to be Clara's mother. She was very elegantly dressed, and had the grace of the classic noblewoman. Her eyes, however, showed a level of happiness that a mother of any class would have when fears for the safety of their child were laid to rest.
The lady of the manor rushed down the stairs, and embraced her long-lost daughter.
"Mother!" Clara exclaimed, attempting to display a similar level of enthusiasm. It was hard to get excited about the encounter, when it seemed like only a couple of days ago she'd talked to her mother on the phone. They held each other for interminable seconds, tears streaming from the Lady Roft's eyes.
"I'm so glad you're home, darling... So glad you're home," she wept. It wasn't long before an older-looking man (mid-fifties, Jeff guessed) entered from one of the ground-level passages. His Lordship, Jeff correctly assumed. He was taller than the two women, perhaps five foot eleven/six foot even. He wore reading glasses. The rest of his attire, a cream-colored woollen jumper, and grey trousers seemed much less extravagant than his wife's (Although, on second glance, the trousers did look well tailored). Nonetheless, he too had the dignified air of an English noble.
"Clara!" he exclaimed, hurrying over to his daughter with open arms.
"Oh Father!" she replied, beginning to get sucked up in the emotion of the moment. The two women welcomed the lord into the embrace. They stood there together for ages, holding each other tightly, the lady Roft sobbing in happiness, and even the more hardened lord and Clara struggling to hold back their own tears. Jeff, who was beginning to feel like a fourth wheel, stood in the background, silently and uncomfortably.
"Where have you been all this time, Clara? We were so worried..." Lord Roft asked his daughter as the group hug broke apart.
"It's... It's a long story. Let's not discuss it now," she replied, still not quite sure how she was going to explain the incredible situation she was stuck in. Suddenly, she remembered that she had not come home alone. "Oh! Father, Mother, I'd like you to meet Jeff," she said, gesturing over towards him. "Jeff... helped me to get back home."
"Hi!" Jeff said, casually, with a smile, holding his hand up in greeting. Lord and lady Roft looked at each other.
"In that case, we're honoured, Jeff," Lord Roft said, offering his own hand, which Jeff shook with a firm grip. "Please, you must stay with us for a while. I insist!" the lord said with a friendly smile.
"In that case, I accept!" Jeff replied, returning his host's smile.
"Excellent!" Lord Roft said. "Warwick, prepare a room for our guest!"
"At once, milord!" said Warwick, who must've inconspicuously returned to the room some time after Lord Roft came in. Warwick turned and once again left the room via the staircase to the next floor.
"I'll have the servants bring the belongings from your vehicle to your room for you," Lord Roft said, almost as an afterthought.
"Oh, don't bother," Jeff said. "It's mostly just jerry-cans of water and diesel."
"You travel around with tanks of water and diesel?" Lord Roft asked, puzzled. Clara's expression became anxious - she wasn't ready to have to explain the situation now.
"Well... Yes..." Jeff sheepishly replied. "My mates told me that the U.K. was a very dry country in the grip of a fuel shortage. Apparently they were having me on..." he continued, ad-libbing as best he could. Lord and Lady Roft looked at each other in confusion. Clara rolled her eyes. "I don't get overseas much," Jeff said, as an attempted explanation.
"I... see..." Lord Roft responded, somewhat thrown by this new exhibit of eccentricity by the young man.
"Well, never mind all that, I'm sure we all have much to talk about," Lady Roft said, ending the awkward silence. "Come, let us go into the sitting room. I'll have the kitchen put on some Earl Grey." The lord and lady lead Clara and Jeff through the house to a grand sitting room with elaborate couches and armchairs, an antique coffee table, and a large hearth with a fire burning merrily away. It was adorned by magnificent paintings and other artworks, just like all the other rooms. Jeff could scarcely believe that he was sitting down to tea in a house like this. Although when he thought about it, it was probably one of the less remarkable things that had happened to him today.
The three Rofts and Jeff sat down at the coffee table and began to talk. A maid bought in a trolley with a tea set shortly thereafter and served them all. They talked for about twenty minutes. The lord and lady both hinted several times as the many unanswered questions they had about Clara's disappearance, but Clara repeatedly dodged the issue. Jeff, to his own relief, was never broached about the subject. Then Warwick entered the room.
