[IC] Act One: Savannah

"In his book? I dunno, I ain't never been big on readin'."

"Fair enough. Did anything on the property seem to hold his attention?"

"Nah, we was wanderin' all over. Had to remind him to steer clear o' the swamp, on account o' the gators. Standin' there looking at the house, he was, not payin' no attention to the gators."

Hmm... Photographing the house... curious.

"This book you mention, Mr Carruthers, the one Douglas was working on... Is it kept here on the grounds? Do you think you can show it to us?"

"Probably be in his study if it's anywhere. You paid your respects to Mrs Henslowe yet, or are you as uncouth as you look?"

He gives the man a baffled look.
"Oh? But you told us not to bother the lady of the house... Otherwise we would have paid our respects sooner."

Interesting... The man is contradicting himself...

"No matter... We will be on our way to greet Mother Henslowe now," are his parting words.

He turns in the direction of the mansion, before the groundkeeper changes his mind again!

"You city folk got no manners? Course you should introduce yourselves to her, traipsin' around her estate like this. Just don't bother her none!"

He shakes his head as he trudges off to towards the house. "Come on then, I s'pose you'll be wanting to eat too."

"Thank-you Mr. Carruthers, truly much appreciated."

Somewhat relieved she wasn't going to be breaking in to the place, Lillian follows.

Caruthers takes you up to the house, stepping carefully over rotting floorboards on the veranda and into the house itself. The rooms have high ceilings, with tall windows and large fireplaces. The ground floor consists of a parlour, main hall and stairway up, kitchen, dining room, and a den, with a servants' stairwell just off the kitchen.



There's a distinct odour of mould in the kitchen, and you see Carruthers carefully cut off some mould on a block of cheese from the coolbox. The meal he prepares is pretty spartan - hunks of poorly-cut bread that are on the verge of staleness, cheese, and some sort of cold cuts that have a greenish tinge to them. He heats up some broth too, but that seems reserved for Mrs Henslowe. While he works, he talks quietly.

"Mother Henslowe's room is at the top o' the stairs. Say your hellos but don't go botherin' her too much. She's good people. Always looked after me, specially when my Jack didn't make it back from the war. Would have put him in their own cemetery, she said, but there weren't enough o' him left to bring back. My father worked here, and his before him, but I'll be the last, I reckon. Not sure what will happen to this place when she goes. That'll be a sad day."

He walks through with the food to the dining room, which hasn't seen much use, if any, for at least a decade, you reckon. The parlour is in a similar state, looking like it's never been sat on. The den is dusty, the animal heads on the walls layered with dust and looking somewhat feeble, as if they had begged to be put out of their misery while still alive. He leaves with the broth, heading up the servants' stairwell. You can hear the creak of the wooden stairs, somewhat alarmingly at times.



There are sconces for lights in the dining room, but only a couple of them have bulbs in that still work, the rug on the floor under the table is faded and worn, and the paint on the walls is peeling in places. There's a smell of damp in here, fighting to overcome the stink of the swamp outside and the cat trays in the corner of the room. A half-hearted attempt to cheer the place up with flowers (half dead) doesn't do much to disguise the other smells.

The parlour contains nothing out of the ordinary, though there is a large book on a roll-top desk, laid open.

Strange man... I suppose isolation and mourning took a toll on the poor fellow... And look at this place...

Looking at the state of the room (and of the food on offer), Gabriel waits for them to be alone, then murmurs "I find myself with no appetite..."

He wanders to the roll-top desk, glances at the book.

The book is an accounts ledger, open at the most recent page covering the years from 1930 to present.

Samuel had always been hale and hearty, and thanked Carruthers for the meal before digging into his portion.

Dr Walker peruses the accounts ledger for a few minutes, and several things become apparent quite quickly - going back some time, the family business was still quite profitable, investment income brought in a decent return when the estate itself became untenable as a going concern. However, in recent years, returns have fallen off steeply, and no attempts have been made to restructure investments or recoup losses. It's obvious that nothing has been spent on upkeep over the last decade or so either, which is wholly unsurprising given your surroundings and their decay. Even worse, Dr Walker estimates that the family will be entirely bankrupt within about 5 years, as long as the stock market doesn't crash further.

"I think we should pay our respects soon and not only for a show of good manners; with all of the dust it would be apparent that we've been looking around beforehand."

Gabriel informs the others in a hushed tone.
"Looks like the family finances are on an irreversible course to bankruptcy... Explains the state of this place..."

He responds to Lillian, "Good idea. Let's go meet the lady, as soon as Sam's done eating."

As you head up the stairs, covered with threadbare carpet and with quite a bit of dust gathered in the corners, you see a corridor. Right at the top of the stairs, there's a door that's ajar - presumably Mrs Henslowe's room - and to the left along the corridor you see two other doors, and to the right, another two doors.

Gabriel calls out, their intention being not to wander around the house, but to pay their respects.
"Hello?... Mrs. Henslowe? May we?"

If a reply comes from the lady of the house, or from Carruthers, he will lead to the room from which it seems to originate.

Carruthers opens the door further from within, saying to someone in the room "It's them as what I was tellin' you about. You shout if'n they cause you any trouble an' I'll set the dogs on 'em."

Again you aren't sure if he's joking.

He leaves with the empty bowl and a small plate that must have provided Mrs Henslowe's breakfast, and heads down the corridor, where you notice he turns and suddenly disappears into a wall - which you realise cunningly disguises the fact that the servants' staircase is there as you hear the creaking of the wooden steps again.

Entering the room, you find a bed, with a bedside table upon which a glass of water and a jug sit, as well as a small radio which gives out a faint tinny tune. There is a dresser and a wardrobe in the room, and another small table upon which sits a basin and another jug of water, as well as a bar of soap and a towel. Peeping out from under the bed you can see a bedpan.

Sitting up in the bed, a black cat in her arms, is an old woman - at least an octogenarian, you'd say, wearing a nightdress and a shawl, and with a medium length silver wig on her head. There's also a book on the bed next to her, with a bookmark saving her place.

He gingerly steps into the room after a soft rap on the open door. "Good day Mrs Henslowe. I hope we are not disturbing you? I am Dr. Gabriel Walker, from Arkham - and these are my associates, Mrs Blakey and Mr Weston."

"The family of one of your son's acquaintances from long ago - the late Walter Winston - have asked us to try shed some light on the man's recent past. Based on some correspondence, we came to visit your son Douglas..."

He lets the phrase hang, poised to observe the woman's reaction.