Gentleman's Library Novels & Stories

Not afraid of ghosts? ‘I’ve yet to be convinced they exist,’ she replied, overawed by the magnificence surrounding her. The library was as long and wide as a ballroom, wainscotted in oak, every surface richly carved and inlaid, with an elaborate chimneypiece and pedimented doors. The tall, recessed casements were hung with damask drapes held back by cords with long tassels. The windows overlooked the formal knot garden laid out like a complicated embroidery, and a sweeping green lawn guarded by sentinel trees.

More drunk people were spilling out of bars and clubs, filling the pavements with loud conversations and jeering. I had to get off the streets. I needed somewhere quiet to calm down before someone else tried to speak to me. The twenty-four hour library had to be deserted now, didn’t it? Warm orange light filled the windows, which were partially covered by glossy green monstera leaves and, from the quick glance I got as I darted through the double doors, it seemed empty. Scanning my library card, I surveyed the area. There was just one man in the main room, sat in a high-backed velvet chair with a book open on his lap that he was trying very hard to make it look like he was reading. Ignoring

Dave replied to him. “Madam,” he addressed Genevieve. “Hi.” Dave led her into one of the front rooms, a large library. “Simon , would you bring some Champagne please?” “Of course Sir.” “Thank you.” As Simon left them, Davel turned to her. “You seem to like books Genevieve. What do you think of this collection?” “It’s incredible.” Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, full of antiquarian leather bound volumes.

Her hand trembled slightly as she pushed one door open, its hinges mercifully silent. The library beyond was a cathedral of knowledge bathed in moonlight and the gentle glow of a few scattered candles. Tall windows lined one wall, their leaded panes casting latticework shadows across polished oak floors. Books lined every other surface, from floor to impossibly high ceiling, with elegant ladders positioned strategically around the room’s perimeter. A massive fireplace dominated the far wall, a low fire casting a warm circle of light before it. And there, silhouetted against that firelight, stood a man.

By 6pm, the Sterling Manor was packed. The air inside the grand library was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and the heavy, suffocating weight of a family that lived only for power. Lord Sterling sat at the head of the long dark-wood table, his face a mask of cold determination.

Elena urged, then turned and scurried away as if the room itself were cursed. Mary pushed the door open. The library was a two-story room filled with thousands of books, but the only light came from the fireplace, casting long, dancing orange shadows against the walls. A man was standing by the window, his back to her. He was tall, his shoulders broad under a black sweater, his presence so intense that the room felt smaller just by him being in it. He didn't turn around. He held a crystal glass of amber liquid, swirling it slowly.

Today, the library was insanely quiet as most people were getting out of the palace’s walls and enjoying the warmth of the spring sun, happy that spring had sprung, and I had even gone for my own lonely stroll through the palace gardens earlier; Rolling my eyes, I gripped the top of his book and quickly pulled it out of his hands before he could register my actions. “Arrow!” “Shush!” A cranky old man hushed me loudly from the front desk, his old and almost dead eyes squinting at us as if he could light our hair on fire or something; Arrow’s soft laugh pulled at my attention and after smiling an apology to the librarian, I turned back around and smacked Arrow on his shoulder with book,

He dropped his hand reluctantly and let me go; I gave him a small reassuring smile and headed to the door to see who was there. “We are closed, sirs,” I said with a weak smile to the three bulky men who were looking around suspiciously. “Oh, I see. Did a man come here, or did you see him pass by?” the tallest one asked. “This is a library, sir; a lot of men come here to read books.” “This one is no ordinary man. Well built, 6.5 foot, tan skin, dark hair, amber eyes, stabbed, bleeding,” He said, smirking.

His gaze flitted from mine towards the three. “Miss Rosette, Miss Nessa and Miss Cass, if that is all the questions you have you may leave. The Library is free for your consultation and it has plenty more resources than I can offer.” He paused and then frowned, “I'm sure you can take the time to find better fitting clothes, considering how each of your shirt buttons are so loose they are unbuttoned.” Ouch. I winced slightly, even though it wasn't directed my way. His words were gentle and so formal, yet a cutting rejection, shutting off any advances while dismissing them.

Annie would be coming to see her at 7am, she couldn’t wait for that long so she called one of the maids to help her have a wash and informed them about the three guests. The library is situated on the second storey above the ground floor. The four men walk fast but quietly. They pass some close doors and the three men are wondering as to how many people live in this huge house. The dim light in the hallway is enough for them to see where they are going. Francois stops in front of a polished old oak door. He pulls a hanging switch and an old antique lamp lights up. Then he takes out a key from his pocket. The three men saw this and had the same thoughts as to why put a lock on a library door?