The Long Gallery, chapters two and three (standard:drama, 1591 words) [2/6] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Aug 01 2014	Views/Reads: 2375/1816	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
For a reason unknown to her, Daisy Truman has inherited the vast Harvest Hall, deep in the Sussex countryside. But her troubles are just beginning.

Chapter Two 

The grey-clad figure roamed through Harvest Hall, crossing the
dust-laden turquoise carpet of the main lounge, impervious to the dank 
odour emanating from it, pausing to admire the portrait of Joshua 
Weston adorning the ornately plastered wall directly above the Adam 
fireplace. The Queen Anne chairs below seemed sadly neglected, their 
elegance hidden behind the sheets that draped them, drooping as if 
knowing their presence wasn't wanted. 

A whistling sigh filled the lifeless, musty air as the figure moved on
to the morning room that formed the ground floor of the west wing. Two 
Chesterfield sofas both covered with heavy drapes held its attention 
for a moment, causing a small gurgle in the throat before it swung 
away, headed into the hall, sweeping up the great central staircase to 
the head of the Long Gallery. 

There it halted, facing a broad, twenty metre long passageway dividing
the Hall front and back. 

The central feature of the house. 

Four hundred years of history lay embedded here, reflected in the string
of portraits of the Weston family and the many landscapes painted by 
prominent artists that embellished the gallery's southern wall. Periods 
of conflict and strife, during which, the family had prevailed against 
the odds; the decades that had seen the demise of the gypsum mines and 
the ensuing social upheaval and chaos, but still the dynasty had stood 
firm. There had been peaceful interludes which had enabled them to 
prosper and grow – such a period had descended on the Hall during most 
of Joshua's years, although later things began to change, and alas, 
that change now seemed irreversible. 

The dust that had settled over the Gallery's stately furnishings would
soon rise into the air, choking it. Regal, high-backed chairs upon 
which had been seated highly respected members of the Weston family 
would be occupied by unworthy descendants – those of another creed, 
with no justifiable right to their inheritance. 

Somehow, in his inexplicable blood rush, Joshua had decreed otherwise;
had reneged on history and family by placing it into the hands of one 
Daisy Truman – a woman who, it seemed, lived beyond the bounds of 
gentile behaviour. Who knew what low-bred stock she would bring with 
her to violate the Weston tradition? What repugnance she would 
introduce here that might jeopardise the family home forever? 

Harvest Hall was never built, was never intended for such a
transformation as Truman would bestow upon it – if she had her way. But 
the situation was not without hope – there were those afoot that would 
strive to prevent it – that was for sure. Only time would tell whether 
the outcome would bode the old place well. 

The figure moved on as outside, dark clouds swept over the sun, dimming
the ancient interior. Towards the end of the gallery, Joshua Weston's 
bedroom door lay open; the voluminous space within bore the smell of 
age. May the gods forbid that it should bear the decay that Daisy 
Truman's presence might add to it, should this become her room. The 
four-poster bed that had served the head of the family well for 
generations stripped down to its mattress mourned the emptiness of the 
place. The figure could almost perceive it as a human entity yearning 
for its owner – 

And that owner was not Daisy Truman – hers was not a true inheritance,
but that which had been bequeathed by a tired, disillusioned, but 
nonetheless great man. 

The silhouette passed through the room, pausing by one of the three sash
windows overlooking the forest beyond, and a slow wheeze frosted the 
glass. 

It was not inconceivable that the woman's stay at Harvest Hill would be
short-lived – that events might conspire to drive her out – that 
Harvest Hall might yet return to its rightful heirs.   Chapter 
Three 



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