Spirited Away - The Game

It is not unreasonable to expect that above the front door a sitting room would be situated. It faces south-east, which would make the mornings there especially pleasant on a sunny day, while in the summer it would offer a respite from the heat in the afternoons. It also allows a view of the road, so one could see visitors coming; or if no visitors are expected, the trees surrounding the estate are pleasing to the eye in any weather. And indeed Edward glimpses someone peering out of the window - a slender woman with pale hair, not a lady as her dress is too plain, but neither is she wearing a servant's uniform. She lingers for a moment and then disappears, probably to announce the arrival of the strangers to the other occupants of the room.

Shortly after, the door is opened by a footman. The young man seems to be about Maximilian's age but taller, he has the round friendly face of someone who enjoys simple country revels and seems somewhat out of place stuffed into a tight gold-trimmed uniform. He appears to have put his livery on in a hurry and the collar is tucked the wrong way. He greets them with a wide smile, a grin almost, which would never be deemed appropriate in a London house, and asks about the purpose of their visit.

"A lovely afternoon, good man," Maximilian greets the man. With how untraditional he himself is, he kind of enjoys this man's appearance and the way that it would never be accepted back in London. "Maximilian Calstock. Mr. Broadhurst and I have arrived in this town from London this morning. I was hoping to speak to Mrs. Tubbs if that would be at all possible. I'm afraid we didn't exactly announce our coming, but perhaps she could find it in herself not to turn us away."

Hmm, interesting. We must enquire about who she could be. I suppose the Mansion is large enough to house more people than just Mrs Tubbs and her help...
The detail does not escape Edward's scrutiny. Very odd, that a footman would dress in haste at this time... he thinks. Maybe the services required of him include some unconventional ones.

He bows politely (just enough to be appropriate, addressing a footman) when Maximilian mentions him by name.

The footman invites them in the hallway and begs for their patience while he runs to ask his mistress whether she would be receiving visitors. When he returns, he has the diminished look of a child that has been scolded and his large face is red with embarrassment. His collar however has been fixed, which is likely the reason for his changed demeanor.

"You will be received," he says shyly, without looking the two guests in the eyes. An awkward sort of dance follows, as he clumsily takes their coats and hats and hangs them, and then leads them upstairs.

The steps creak as they climb, but seem solid enough. Just as the outside, the interior of the house is old-fashioned - the wooden paneling is dark, the ceiling is a bit too low, the steps on the staircase are a bit too tall, the hallways are a bit too narrow for a fashionable country estate. There are portraits of grim-looking medieval gentlemen on the walls, and scenes of dogs hunting deer and boar in woods which no longer exist. But although the house is old, it is by no means neglected - it is clean and well-kept, the owners taking pride in the relic they have inherited.

Having reached a door on the second floor - dark, as the rest of the house interior, with carvings of oak leaves and flowers that have no business blooming on an oak tree - the footman opens it and announces the visitors:

"Messrs Calstock and Broadhurst, ma'am. From London."

"Speak up, Henry! And don't slouch! Bring them in."

The footman - Henry - gives the two gentlemen a sheepish smile and invites them in with a gesture.

As the footman leads the two men into the building, Maximilian clears his throat to get the man's attention. When he turns, the young gentleman leans in and messes up his collar again, just a bit. "It's how they wear it in London," he says with a playful wink, then he falls back behind the man, letting him fix the collar again if he wishes.

As the two men step into the room the footman led them to, Max takes a polite bow. "Mrs. Tubbs," he greets the woman. "Thank you for inviting us in. It is rather chilly outside, and I'm afraid Mr. Broadhurst may be getting tired from carrying this little gift basket."

Edward smiles nodding his head, "Mrs. Tubbs, if we may..." and steps closer to the woman with their offer. He will step discreetly back once she takes it or once she shows him where to leave the gift.

He observes the woman, trying to find a resemblance to the figure he saw at the window.

The woman sitting on the couch in the middle of the room is not the woman Edward had seen from the window. That woman had been slender and plain. This woman is... expansive. Her bonnet could house half the homeless of London. Her skirts could propel a man-of-war. Her stays could armour the King's army. She is not a big woman, judging by her pinched face and thin, claw-like fingers, but the opulent fabric of her dress makes up for it - clearly she is not a woman to go unnoticed. Unless, that is, if she stands still and quiet in a room where she might be mistaken for a rather distasteful piece of furniture. She looks at the offered gift with her cold, steel-grey eyes and her lips press into a thin line.

"I would have directed Henry to see you off, but I doubted his ability to convey my meaning to you. I wished to make this clear myself. I do not know who you are, gentlemen, and I do not care to know. You are not welcome here. There will be no vultures circling this house."

Back at the door, Henry is nervously adjusting his collar again, with the look of someone who would very much wish to disappear into it like a great, gold-trimmed tortoise.

"Aha, but there you are wrong," Maximilian says with his most charming smile. "For you see, we are not vultures. We are in fact friends of a certain gentleman in London who has asked us to help you with your current troubles. And we also brought some sweets."

Edward keeps his smile, fighting hard to control the urge to retort the unflattering insinuations of the lady of the house. He reminds himself of his status, and bites his tongue.

Certainly wouldn't like to be in HER service, he thinks glancing at Henry, who seems to have endured the woman's abuses for quite some time, by the look of it.

"Vultures!" the lady repeats, the sound of the word evidently gives her grim satisfaction. "Well-meaning 'friends' and distant relatives crawling out of the woodwork to feast on a defenseless widow! Oh, I know very well the help you offer. Comfort and advice at first, and -- and sweets!" She waves her bony hand at Edward's charmingly wrapped offering as if she is swatting at a gnat. "And soon you propose to help with the estate's finances, no doubt! Ooh, I know what you are after, but you are mistaken, sirs! Mistaken!"

"I don't even handle my own finances," Maximilian replies in a tone of outrage. "Why would I ever believe I could assist with someone else's?" He deliberately misinterprets her meaning, though he doubts that will do much to convince her. "Believe me, I am not here to feast on you. Feast with you, perhaps, if you would share our gift basket with us. But no, we're actually here to help in looking for your husband. He must miss you dearly, wherever he is."

Edward looks closely at Henry to see his reaction to the mention of the missing Mr Tubbs, particularly when Maximilian says they want to help find him.

"You may take your basket! Let it be your consolation, because you will find no other prize here! Henry, see them out!"

Henry looks equal parts terrified and embarrassed. He attempts to straighten himself up a bit, show eagerness to see the two unwanted guests off; he doesn't move from his place by the door however, evidently hoping they would show reason and leave on their own.

"Well, that is just rude," Maximilian points out, somewhat rudely himself. "I'll make certain to inform Mr. Norrell of how we have been treated here. And after he gave us this letter to indicate his trust in us. To think that someone would slap away the hand of England's only practical magician - and a personal friend of the prime minister."
He turns to leave.

Edward withdraws the basket, so impolitely refused, and prepares to follow Maximilian out of the room (but lending his ear to the lady's reaction to the mention of Norrell).

Although it seems like the lady is more inclined to listen to her own voice rather than anything that Maximilian might want to say, Norrell's name pierces through the fog of her righteous indignation like the beam from a lighthouse. She stops, stunned, and then with equal vigour demands to see the letter.

"Produce it immediately!" she caws and after Maximilian presents it to her, begins to inspect it through her pince-nez. She turns the letter over several times and looks for something that might expose it as a sham, but finds nothing. "Why didn't you say so from the start! I took you for fortune hunters, confidence tricksters! It is not decent to lead one on like that, especially a lady! Why, you might have given me apoplexy!" Unwilling as she is to admit that she has been in the wrong all along, the visitors can see that she has mellowed. She hands the letter back to Maximilian.

"As it happens, I was not entirely truthful either. I told no lie! But you made assumptions about me, and as I thought you were thieves and scoundrels I did not think it necessary to disillusion you. I can do so now with clear conscience. I am not Mrs. Tubbs!" She makes the last pronouncement with pompous theatricality. "My name is Daphne Murgatroyd. I am Aramintha's - that is Mrs. Tubbs - aunt. I arrived this morning with my physician Dr. Amberly to tend to my niece in her distress."