Chapter 1: The Mansion on the Hill
The first time I saw the Dlamini Mansion, it loomed like a dark shadow against the late-afternoon sky, perched atop a hill that overlooked the quiet valley below. Its windows, tall and narrow, reflected the dying light like watchful eyes, and the iron gates at the entrance creaked slightly as if warning newcomers to tread carefully. I clutched my bag tightly, my fingers trembling despite telling myself that I had nothing to fear. The taxi that brought me here had dropped me off at the bottom of the winding driveway, and the last few steps toward the mansion felt heavier than they should. Every step echoed against the gravel, a hollow sound that seemed to travel far beyond the property's borders. I swallowed nervously, wishing I had arrived earlier so I could get used to the place before meeting the family. But today was my first day as a maid, and there was no turning back.
The front doors were made of dark wood, carved with patterns that resembled twisting vines and strange faces. I hesitated at the threshold, my reflection staring back at me in the polished brass handles. A bell above the door chimed softly as I pushed it open, announcing my arrival in a house that felt too quiet for such a large space. The smell of polished wood and faint perfume hit me immediately, sharp and slightly sweet, mingling with the faint scent of dust that spoke of rooms long untouched.
A young man, dressed in a neatly pressed suit, appeared at the top of the grand staircase. His eyes briefly assessed me before he smiled politely. "You must be Thandiwe," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge I couldn't place. "I'm Sipho, one of the staff managers. Welcome."
I nodded, my throat dry, and offered a small smile. He descended the staircase with a confidence that made the marble steps seem fragile beneath him. I noticed the way he glanced at the paintings lining the walls, portraits of people with stern expressions that seemed to watch me as I stood frozen near the entrance.
"Follow me," he said, gesturing toward a side corridor, "and I'll show you where you'll be working today." The air felt colder in the corridor, and I shivered despite the warmth of the late afternoon sun outside. My shoes clicked against the wooden floor as I followed him, each step making me hyper-aware of every creak and shadow in the hallway. For a moment, I felt like an intruder in a world that had existed long before I was born.
The first room he showed me was the laundry area, filled with baskets of clothes stacked high and ironing boards set neatly in rows. The smell of detergent and starch mixed oddly with the lingering scent of perfume from the entrance hall.
"This is where you'll start," Sipho explained, handing me a list of tasks for the day. I nodded, scanning the items, feeling both excitement and a quiet fear that I wasn't entirely prepared for what lay ahead. As I set down my bag, I noticed a small door tucked into the corner of the room, barely noticeable behind a pile of clean linens. My curiosity stirred, but I forced myself to focus on the work. Today, I reminded myself, was about learning, not exploring secrets.
Soon, I was introduced to the other staff, each one polite but distant, as if guarding themselves from new arrivals. There was Nomsa, an older maid who gave me a nod but no words, and Thabo, the cook, who smiled briefly before returning to his preparations. I felt out of place, a newcomer in a household that had its own rhythm and unspoken rules.
As I began sorting the linens, I kept glancing toward the main staircase, wondering when I might meet the family. The mansion felt alive in its own way, with doors that groaned when moved, floors that whispered underfoot, and shadows that seemed to stretch longer than they should. Every corner I turned carried a faint chill, a reminder that this place held more than just its surface beauty. And yet, despite my apprehension, a strange excitement fluttered in my chest.
My first break came around mid-morning, and I stepped into the sunlit garden, hoping to clear my mind. The estate was vast, with neatly trimmed hedges and flowering shrubs that seemed almost too perfect. I noticed a small fountain at the center, water trickling gently over worn stone, its sound oddly comforting. Beyond the garden, the land sloped down toward the valley, dotted with trees whose leaves whispered secrets in the wind.
For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe freely, imagining life here could be serene. But then I remembered Sipho's glance earlier, fleeting and unreadable, and the feeling of being watched returned. I couldn't shake the sense that something in this mansion was waiting for me to discover it.
Returning inside, I was directed to clean the west wing, a section of the house I had been warned about. "Stay out of the rooms marked private," Sipho had said casually, but his eyes lingered on mine longer than necessary. The corridor leading there was dimmer, with heavy curtains that blocked out most of the light. I felt a chill as I walked along the polished floorboards, my reflection occasionally catching in the tall mirrors.
Behind the doors, I imagined the lives of the family members, their secrets hidden behind locked panels and heavy drapes. I paused before a door slightly ajar, curious despite myself. Something about that room whispered danger, but my curiosity edged me forward anyway.
Inside, the room appeared unused, filled with old furniture covered in white sheets. Dust motes floated in the sunlight that filtered through the blinds, and the air smelled faintly of mildew. I moved carefully, trying not to disturb anything, but my eyes kept returning to a large wardrobe against the far wall. It seemed ordinary at first, but a faint scratch along its bottom suggested it had been opened recently.
A sudden noise behind me made my heart jump — a soft thump, like someone had dropped a book. I turned quickly, but the corridor was empty. Shaking off the unease, I reminded myself it was probably just the old house settling.
Lunch was served in a small staff room, where I sat quietly while others ate. Nomsa watched me with a guarded expression, as if testing whether I belonged. I tried to make conversation, asking simple questions about the family and the work, but answers were brief and cautious. I couldn't help but notice the way some of the staff cast glances toward the west wing, their eyes narrowing in unspoken concern.
The mansion seemed to pulse with secrets, each room holding stories I was only beginning to sense. I felt the weight of being new in a place where past and present collided in strange ways. My hands trembled slightly as I sipped water, wondering if curiosity was already becoming a risk.
The afternoon passed in a blur of dusting, polishing, and organizing. Every room I entered carried the same faint sense of unease — the kind that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. I found myself avoiding certain corridors, drawn instead to the ones that seemed safer, though the feeling of eyes watching never left me.
By the time evening approached, the sun had dipped behind the hills, casting long shadows that stretched into the mansion. I paused at the top of the staircase, hesitant to descend, feeling the mansion's gaze upon me.
Dinner with the family was formal and silent, a stark contrast to the casual atmosphere I had expected. I moved quietly, careful not to draw attention, but the family's eyes seemed to follow every movement.
The matriarch, a tall woman with sharp features, barely glanced at me, yet I felt her scrutiny in every tilt of her head. Conversation was polite, but I sensed tension in the way the family spoke around certain topics. A young woman, Lihle, smiled at me briefly, but there was a flicker of unease behind her eyes. I wondered if she, like me, felt out of place in this mansion, trapped by its grandeur and its secrets.
After serving dessert, I retreated to the kitchen, my stomach tight with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.
That night, as I scrubbed the floors and tidied the silverware, I heard footsteps above me. They were slow, deliberate, and heavy, echoing against the floorboards. My heart raced, and I paused mid-motion, listening carefully. The footsteps stopped, then resumed, moving toward the west wing. I strained my ears, but the sound faded as quickly as it had begun. I tried to convince myself it was nothing — the family moving about, perhaps. Still, a sense of unease settled over me, whispering that the mansion had already started revealing its darker side.
By the time I finished my chores, the house was quiet, except for the faint ticking of a grand clock in the hallway. I carried a candle to the staff quarters, my hands shaking slightly despite my attempts to steady them. The corridors were long and winding, and shadows seemed to cling to the corners, stretching unnaturally. I paused near a doorway, peering inside, but it appeared empty. A soft draft brushed my face, carrying a faint scent of perfume, though the family had long since retired. My curiosity flared, mingled with fear, as I wondered who or what had passed that way.
Clutching the candle, I continued toward the staff room, determined to put the unease behind me.
Lying in the small, shared room that night, I struggled to sleep. The mattress was thin, and the walls were cold, but the real chill came from the thoughts swirling in my head. What had I seen today? What had I heard? I couldn't shake the feeling that someone — or something — was watching me even now. Every creak of the floorboards outside made my heart leap.
I thought of Lihle's fleeting smile at dinner, wondering if she, too, felt the mansion's silent pressure. As I closed my eyes, I tried to tell myself it was only the first day.
Morning light brought no comfort, only the stark reality of another day. I dressed quickly, my nerves still frayed from the previous night. Passing the west wing, I hesitated, drawn by a mix of fear and curiosity. The door that had stood slightly ajar yesterday now hung wide open, almost inviting me in. I told myself firmly to obey the rules, yet my instincts urged me to look closer. Something about that corridor called to me, whispering secrets I was desperate to uncover. I steeled myself and stepped forward, heart pounding.
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