Let it Snow!

❄️Thirty-Seven❄️

"The saddest thing, I think," Nora muttered as they strolled from one gorgeous chamber to another, holding hands, "is that the Count John Francis Pállfy, the great great grandfather of the current owner, who started the Neo-Gothic reconstruction which was carried out according to the models of French castles on the river Loire and lasted twenty-two years, did not see its completion. Goodness, if I ever wished ghosts existed, it would be for his sake. I always wished that he didn't have to leave this place, and could see how it looked when it was finished... But at the same time, I wish that he couldn't see what his heirs did with his precious collections... Can you imagine being an avid collector, travelling the world in search of ancient things to embellish your beloved castle, to take care of them and put them on display for anyone who might want to see them, only to have them sold again the moment you're gone from this world? That's about the most disrespectful thing I've ever seen."

"But we got most of the things back by now," Martin said. "And those that we could not buy back, or those that got lost or destroyed, we replaced. Like these beds," he explained, making her realise that they entered one of the bedrooms.

"Nothing of the original furniture of this room was preserved," Nora said, remembering what she had read about the chamber as she looked around, her eyes pausing on the two large, golden beds which almost filled the room entirely. "These awful, gilded monsters are replicas of the original beds," she said, smiling. She always found the two separate, huge, golden beds ugly.

"You are right," Martin agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "and that's why I can do this without you accusing me of damaging ancient furniture of your beloved castle," he added, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed closer to them so fast that she had no time to protest or even squeal with surprise, before he deposited her on the surprisingly dust-free, yellow coverlet embroidered with a golden thread.

Nora giggled in an attempt to banish her nervousness as he lay down next to her, his face hovering centimeters about hers, the moment feeling so much more intimate than any they had shared before. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, revelling in his closeness as he kissed her, in the feeling of his fingers in her hair, on her face, her arms...

He rested his forehead against hers for a long moment after the kiss was over, and Nora noticed how his hands trembled with emotions he was trying to hide when he stood up and offered her his hand to pull her to her feet, before he let his fingers stroll to her head in an attempt to restore some order to her hair.

"I promised I'd be professional," he muttered almost apologetically, making her giggle.

"I... don't mind you being unprofessional," she admitted, kissing him on the cheek. "But let us adjust the bed cover. It's not fair for someone else to have to do it tomorrow, before the first tour."

He smiled and nodded, and they only left the bedroom once Nora was happy with the way the golden coverlet was displayed.

"You know, when I was a child, I believed that the Count kept a wife hidden behind each of the locked doors," she said as they walked from room to room through corridors lined with many locked doors, "like Blubeard in that fairytale."

Martin chuckled, then his smile faded as she added, "And later, as a teenage girl, I couldn't understand that a man like him had never married, and I was tempted to think that he kept a Bertha Mason locked in the attic of one of the many towers, like Mr Rochester."

Nora couldn't see Martin's expression as he stood in front of her, his face turned towards the door he was unlocking, but she was almost certain that his shoulders tensed... unless it was just a trick of the flickering, candle-like electric lights. She followed him into the Golden Room, all her previous thoughts scattering at seeing its magnificent beauty.