Chapter One
Sophia Ross took a deep breath as she rounded the last curve up to the entryway of the almost two hundred year old castle, the Christendom. The thirty-nine room four-storey mansion had become a bed and breakfast in 1960, in the heart of the exquisitely manicured Victoria, British Columbia garden district. The beautiful roses, crocuses, daffodils, and rhododendrons that lined the driveway up to the castle played with Sophia's vision, creating psychedelic patterns across the landscape. The lush flora's tantalizing scents permeated the air, blending their distinct fragrances into a pungent perfume that blanketed the countryside and left the lone traveler dizzy with the enchanted aromas. The effects of the alluring bouquet encouraged the thirty-five year old widow to breathe deeply, allowing the fragrances to engulf her brain and to leave her infatuatedly delirious.
Sophia had not felt so totally alive in almost six years, since her now deceased husband was diagnosed with a terminal malignant brain tumor that ate his mind as well as his body. She had given up her own life to nurse him, attempting to keep him alive for as long as possible; for what reasons she did not know or would not admit. At the time it seemed like the wifely thing to do, her marriage vows promising to remain with this other person through sickness and in health, even though he had become a shell of the man she loved and married. Her efforts assisted him in living two years longer than the physicians had diagnosed. But the strain on her young body, psyche, and emotions took its toll in the process.
Now totally alone she decided to take the advice of her mentor and psychiatrist, Dr. Paul Mason: make up for lost time and start living again. This trip was the first time the widow had ever been on a vacation alone. Not that she ever feared traveling independently; the opportunity simply never availed itself while she was married. And at this point in time, she could barely remember a moment when she wasn't attached to someone else. She chose Christendom for its seclusion cloistered by some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. The castle was discretely nestled between the Olde London Inn and the Butchart Gardens, a deliciously engineered floral masterpiece celebrated globally. The travel brochure promised excellent room service in a bed and breakfast catering to the traveler's every whim. Sophia laughed wondering what fantasies she would concoct once the reality of having to answer to no one in the world sank in. At the moment, she drove her hunter green Jaguar roadster slowly up the path to her fantasized enchanted kingdom as she navigated her car along the windy pebbled road.
As she came to a stop in front of two majestic identical soldiers sculpted from brass, Sophia wondered what the interior would reveal. Out of context with the rest of the palatial environment hung a handwritten sign between the massive military men standing erect:
Attention! You have arrived at the Christendom Inn. Turn off the ignition and pull the rope near the entrance. Guests arriving to the inn after ten p.m. will find the main entrance to be locked. Proceed to the servant's entrance and ring for entry.
The chastisement made Sophia feel like a schoolgirl reading the rules and regulations of a dormitory. She wondered whether naughty guests received demerits and after so many they were locked in their rooms and served a meager diet of bread and water. She chuckled, “Oh, Sophia, what have you gotten yourself into?” Bravely she looked at her watch and sighed with relief when she realized that it was only seven p.m. She stepped out of her car and climbed up the steep granite stairs to the massive oak door. Hanging to one side was a lapis colored silk rope. She pulled on it expecting an inhabitant of Oz to peek his head out of the large opening in the center of the door. Instead, a very stuffy, stereotypic tall and lean butler appeared in front of her looking straight ahead. Sophia never trusted people who avoided eye contact, but she waited to see what would happen next. The nondescript mannequin continued blankly staring forward and said in a monotone drone, “Yes, may I help you?”
“Hello! My name is Sophia Ross and I have a reservation.”
“Yes, madam, follow me.” He stiffly turned around and headed toward the long foyer leading to the inn's front desk.
Sophia marched in step behind the automaton, marveling at the exquisite architecture of the vaulted ceilings adorned with Rubens inspired voluptuous naked women enjoying a day beside a serene lake. Staring up at the ceiling, she paid no attention to her spatial proximity to her escort and crashed directly into the back of the butler. In his insipid fashion, he showed not the slightest discomfort due to the collision and continued walking the last few steps up to the oak veneered counter that served as the reception area. Sophia imagined that if she stabbed this man in the back, no blood would run from his torso; rather electrical wires would come hissing out at her where the blade caused a short in his robotic connections. She raised her right hand pretending to stab her fictitious nemesis several times, pantomiming the horror film scene until the butler swiftly turned around to say without making any eye contact, “Thank you, madam. Sylvia will help you at the front desk.” With that he walked away, probably to go hang out in his coffin in the dungeon.
