As I closed and locked the front door behind us, I was a bit surprised to find that Ken was not waiting for us to come in. I’d more than half expected him to be hovering in the foyer, fidgeting nervously.

I slipped out of my jacket and hung it on a peg by the door (next to two other identical jackets in different colors, a dark blue wool pea coat, a black trench coat, and an honest-to-goodness mantled oilcloth duster) before slipping out of my sweater and threw it over my shoulder. “What do you think, Sparkle? Up for a snack before bed?”

She giggled and zipped in a little circle. “Always!”

“That was probably a silly question, wasn’t it,” I admitted, and without more than the briefest hesitation - as soon as I’d mentioned the kitchen I had known precisely where it was - I headed for the left-most door in the foyer, at the bottom of the curved staircase. “Come on, let’s see what we can rustle up for ourselves.”

There was a low fire crackling in the kitchen’s enormous fireplace when we entered, and - to my astonishment - I saw a mop handle apparently moving by itself on the other side of the island. Sparkle immediately settled on my shoulder and gave my ear a gentle tug back towards the door, but my curiosity would now not be satisfied until I knew what was going on here. Ken had implied, sort of, that the House had its own staff that I had never seen.

“Hello?” I asked.

The mop handle froze.

“Be the master of the House,” Sparkle murmured in my ear. Now that I’d declared myself rather than ignoring the obvious, I guess she’d decided to advise me instead of try to get me out of the room. Interesting.

I thought frantically for a moment, and a piece of old fairy folklore from my childhood suddenly clicked into place. So I cleared my throat. “This is my home, and you are welcome in it so long as you do no harm to those within.”

“Harm?” A tiny, masculine voice said in a tone that was somewhere between indignation and disgust. “Neither I nor my kin would ever, so long as we were made welcome!”

The mop handle vanished into thin air, and the sound of tiny footsteps could be heard. I immediately adjusted my line of sight down, as a tiny being came around the side of the island.

If he was two feet tall, I would eat my sweater. Maybe he was grazing that height, but he was at least an inch or two short of it. He wore rustic clothes…leather trousers, a brown homespun shirt and neat white apron, with leather shoes and a little brown felt pork pie hat. His skin, what I could see of it, was as brown as his trousers and weathered like a potato. His eyes, however, were bright green and gleamed with both intelligence and cleverness.

His eyes rested on my face for a moment, before moving to Sparkle. “Miss Sparkle,” he said, sweeping a courtly bow, “lovely t’see ye again. Would ye kindly introduce yer companion?”

Sparkle, still on my shoulder, giggled. “Of course. Caley, this is Wadsworth. Wadsworth, this is Caley, daughter of Mistress Chessie.” She tugged on my ear a little and murmured almost inaudibly, “Wadsworth is the current leader of the clan of Brownies that keeps the House clean and neat.”

A Brownie. Of course he was. And I had a whole clan of them living here?

It was a big house.

Wadsworth - I briefly flashed on a mental image of Tim Curry in full butler kit - bowed to me. “Lady Reid, 'tis an honor to meet ye at last.” He took a breath and let it out, and I got the impression that he was nervous about what he was going to say next. “Since ye found me out fair and square, it’s time to bargain, as was done in days past. My family has served yer family for…oh, at least twelve generations now, and we’d be honored t’continue t’do so, as long as yeh will abide by th’ rules.”

I nodded slowly. “I do not know what the rules are, Mr. Wadsworth,” I figured being extra polite couldn’t hurt, “so if you will be so kind as to explain them to me, I will give the matter due consideration.”

He gave me a small, approving smile. “Very good, Lady Reid. The rules are simple: As long as ye keep our presence here a secret and speak of us to none - except those who’ve found us by accident, like ye did, or who knew about us from days past, like Sparkle and the Caretaker - and give us the sanctuary of yer home, and an offering from yer table, my clan and I will tend to the House’s needs inside and out, without e’er being seen or being any sort of nuisance t’ thee and thine.”

“So I know specifically,” I said carefully, “what does ‘an offering from my table’ constitute.”

Wadsworth grinned. “Ye’ve good instincts, lass. With a bit of training, ye’ll be a right thorn in the side of any unwary Sidhe who tries t’get one over on ye. Food and drink, my lady fair, for me and my clan. That’s all.”

Interesting. “Can you take it for yourself, or do I need to leave it out for you?”

His grin widened. “If ye approve it, we can take it for ourselves.” He gestured to the fridge. “Yon magical ice-box is more than sufficient for our needs and comforts alike, and I’ll not take aught that ye bring in from outside unless offered freely.”

I nodded. Low maintenance, too. This sounded almost too good to be true. “And my protection?”

Wadsworth chuckled. “Ye’ve naught t’do there except allow us to abide in yer home, my lady. For food and shelter, we keep the House and grounds clean, tidy, and pest-free.”

I desperately wanted to ask Sparkle if this was a safe deal to agree to. Fortunately, she must’ve guessed what I was thinking, because she whispered in my ear, “This is the same deal Mistress Chessie made with him. It’s completely safe, and they’re completely loyal.”

I nodded without any further hesitation. “I accept your deal, Wadsworth. The services of you and your clan, in exchange for food and shelter as you’ve described. Shall we shake on it?”

He nodded. “Aye, my lady!”

With that, Wadsworth offered me his tiny hand, and I bent to shake it gravely (and carefully). Then he bowed to me, said, “I’ll be off then. There’s always work t’be done. If ye’ve need of me or our services, just call for me.”

And he was gone.

I straightened and blinked a few times. “What just happened?” I asked, amused.

“You just interviewed and renewed the contract with the House’s cleaning staff,” Sparkle giggled. “Now, snack!” She zoomed over to the fridge.

I made a mental note to do a bit of research on Brownies, and then a second mental note to get myself a bloody pocket notebook and a little pen to go with it. The number of things I was trying to remember to look into, do, or ask was becoming absurd.

Considering the quick job they’d done of cleaning up the place once it was inhabited again, and how spotless it had been since, I ought to leave something special out for them once in a while while I was at it. Maybe a nice cheese tray, or a selection of chocolates or something.

I briefly considered just how bizarre my life had become in such a short period of time, then pushed the thought aside as I reached the fridge. “Chilled mandarin orange slices, please.”

“Chocolate chip cookie!” Sparkle said with glee.

At least she was predictable.

I opened the fridge and retrieved a bowl of nicely cold mandarin orange slices - complete with a spoon - and Sparkle’s cookie, then retired to the table by the fireplace. I got my hand clear of Sparkle’s cookie just in time to avoid losing a finger or two as she dove onto it and began to devour it.

With just a bit more decorum, I tucked into my orange slices. Between bites, I said to Sparkle - who had inhaled her cookie before I was done with my second bite - “So they keep the House clean?”

Sparkle nodded, plopping down on the table and curling her legs under her. “Uh huh! And take care of the yard within the wall.”

That explained why the grassy verge outside the wall hadn’t been trimmed. Another mental note was made: Either find someone to keep it tidy, or learn how to do it myself. Maybe there was some spell I could use.

“Well,” I said, “they’re obviously excellent gardeners and housekeepers. I’ve nothing to complain about there, except for how dusty the House was when I arrived.”

“That,” Ken’s voice said from the doorway, “was your father’s doing.”

I turned a little in my seat to see him standing in the open doorway. “Wadsworth let me know that you caught him mopping the floor in here,” Ken said with an uncertain smile. “I came to see if you had any questions.”

“Dozens,” I said ruefully, nudging my bowl in Sparkle’s direction. She took the hint and plucked out an orange wedge to nibble on. “But I guess the most pressing is…why?”

“Your father?” Ken asked.

I nodded and spooned up some orange wedges for myself before Sparkle could eat all of what was left.

Ken entered the kitchen fully and shook his head a little. “Theatricality, I’m afraid. First he had them make it dusty so that it would seem completely abandoned when you arrived, only to be magically spotless the next morning. I think he thought it would help you adjust to the general weirdness of the place. You wouldn’t believe the angst on display while they messed the place up.”

“I think I might,” I said. “And believe it or not, it did help me acclimate.”

“I’ll be sure to let Wadsworth know,” Ken said seriously. “Maybe then he’ll forgive your father for asking them to make the place so dusty.”

We managed to remain serious for a few seconds before both of us laughed softly. Sparkle, meanwhile, polished off my mandarin oranges. But that was all right.

“So,” Ken said uncertainly after a few moments, “am I forgiven?”

“That depends,” I said gently, “on whether the lesson plan is going to change.”

Ken nodded. “Definitely. From now on, sleeping lessons every other night only, starting with a night off tonight. Your mind might be absorbing all of the information well, but it’s still taking a toll on you. You weren’t quite yourself this morning.”

I nodded my agreement.

“And,” Ken went on, “we’re going to change up what you’re learning starting tomorrow morning. That shield ring should give you a solid basic defense, and you know how to produce lightning, even if you’re not expert at it. Though I’ll bet you could control it well in a pinch. So we’re going to go back to basics tomorrow morning, and do this the right way from now on, instead of the quick way.”

Tension I’d been carefully ignoring melted out of my shoulders and back. “Thank you,” I said, so earnestly that he smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Ken said, “and I apologize. The lesson plans your father left me are comprehensive, but not gentle, and I can see that they’ll put a mental strain on you that he hadn’t anticipated. I must adjust accordingly.”

“I’m glad you’re flexible enough to do so,” I teased him gently.

He bowed to me, then smiled. “Did you enjoy your evening at the pub?”

“It’s not my usual thing,” I said, “but I really did. Everyone was very welcoming and very friendly, without being too pushy. It was nice.”

“And Caley was really, really good at darts!” Sparkle added with her usual unbridled enthusiasm.

Ken smiled. “I had a feeling you would be,” he said to me. “Well…I’ll get back to my planning so I can be ready for your first new lesson tomorrow morning.”

I gave him a small smile, a little relieved that he was giving me a bit of space before we started up again. “Thank you, Ken. For listening, and for adjusting your plans to help me.”

He bowed a little again, then departed. We watched him go, then I yawned, startling myself.

Sparkle giggled. “Bedtime!”

“It’s still a little early,” I said, “but I think Ken is right…I think those lessons while I was asleep were taking a bit of a toll on me. So yeah, let’s hit the sack early.”

The kitchen door still opened onto the foyer - possibly because I’d left the door open, that was something to experiment with - but my bedroom turned out to be hiding behind the door directly across from it. I was able to tell immediately on reentering the foyer, because I could clearly see the little purple fairy hanging on the door. So I was able to walk across the foyer to my bedroom door, open the door, and enter my bedroom.

This was both convenient and a little bewildering…but it wasn’t as bewildering as it had been a couple of days ago. It seemed I was adjusting.

I stared into my bedroom for a minute…then closed the door again, turned, and headed for the double doors that led deeper into the House. Sparkle zipped up alongside me a moment later.

“Not ready for bed yet?” She asked.

I shook my head, going through the doors and into a long hallway. “I feel restless now. I want to walk a little first.”

Sparkle nodded and fluttered along beside me.

As I walked, I stopped occasionally to examine some of the works of art that filled the intermittent recesses in the walls. I spent a couple of minutes admiring a beautiful painting that showed a landscape that I thought might be Midwest America somewhere, as it showed an endless rolling field of golden wheat with a bald eagle flying above it. The subjects of the painting would’ve been unremarkable except for two things: first, the level of detail was exquisite almost to the point of being photo-realistic, while still being distinctly an oil painting; second…like the painting of horses I'd examined a couple of days ago, it was moving. The wheat swayed in a gentle wind, and the eagle glided in graceful circles high above, sometimes closer, sometimes more distant.

I found a marble bust of Sir Winston Churchill which was too lifelike for my comfort and whose eyes I thought were actually following me - literally, physically moving - as I walked back and forth in front of it.

I paused to admire an ancient Greek amphora, almost a meter tall and painted with a scene that I thought depicted Pandora opening her box (which was, in the painting, represented by an amphorae that rather unsettlingly resembled the very one I was looking at). The thing radiated a weird, almost oily cold, so I quickly hurried away from it and tried to put it out of my mind.

Dara had said the House had other secrets hidden in it. Perhaps I’d just found one by accident.

There was more. More, and more, and more. The House’s endless halls were lined with artifacts (one nook held what I was reasonably certain was a genuine Egyptian sarcophagus, standing upright), paintings (that couldn’t possibly be the real Mona Lisa, right?), and other strange and wonderful treasures (a scale model of Leonardo da Vinci’s Aerial Screw that looked old enough to have been assembled by the man himself).

Out of curiosity, I opened a few doors along the way to see what I could see.

One door opened onto Moscow’s famous Red Square, looking directly across at the Kremlin. Another revealed an alley lined with tiny bars that I thought might’ve been in Tokyo. Some opened on places that I didn’t recognize at all…most bizarrely, one opened into the middle of a forest, and when I cautiously stuck my head and shoulders through - holding tight to the molding and door knob - the door appeared to be set right into the base of an enormous tree.

Sparkle, bless her little heart, seemed to understand that I was burning off some nervous energy and remained mostly silent. She stayed with me the whole time though, either flitting along beside me or perching on my right shoulder.

The House, it seemed, was keeping a closer eye on me than I was keeping on myself. I was rather surprised some time later to find myself standing in front of my bedroom door, now deep inside the House. I blinked a couple of times and, on reviewing my mental and physical state, found that I now felt very tired and hadn’t been paying much attention to my surroundings for several minutes.

I smiled, and went into my bedroom. “Time for bed, I think.”

Sparkle lifted off from my shoulder and zoomed over to the windows, then back to the bed and did a rather spectacular (and very dramatic) crash-dive into the thick blanket. I could hear her giggling as I changed into a silk night-shirt and brushed my teeth. When I paused by the windows to watch the glittering lights of the fairies playing in the field outside, Sparkle landed on my shoulder again to watch with me for a minute.

“Do you miss it?” I asked her curiously.

“Being out there?” Sparkle asked.

I nodded.

“Nope!” She answered with no hesitation at all. “It’s much better in here with you.”

I decided not to pursue why. I wasn’t ready to handle it tonight. “I’m glad.” I yawned.

Sparkle gave my ear a tug. “Come on, Caley. Time to sleep. I’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

I climbed into bed and watched as Sparkle zoomed over to the door, shut the bedroom lights off, and returned to the bed. She was already shedding her soft purple radiance, dispelling the shadows and making me feel safe and relaxed as she settled into her night light.

“Good night, Sparkle,” I said with a smile, rolling onto my side and curling up a bit. I could already feel sleep tugging at me.

“Good night, Caley,” she said softly, her voice filled with love. “Sleep well.”