Chapter Text
Arthur looked absent-mindedly out of the train window. He seemed to be the only passenger; the only sound to be heard was the gentle clicking of the train tracks.
He watched the rolling green hills and moors of heather fly past him. It seemed as if he were the only person around for miles. It was a welcome change from the bustling, built-up life of London he was used to.
It had been a long and lonely journey so far. Rather gloomy in fact. He thought of what Stella might be doing back at home. A good deal more than him, surely.
He wondered why Mr Bentley had sent him? Surely there would be lots of more experienced employees willing to carry out such an important task. Still, he was determined to prove his worth as a lawyer and if collecting paperwork from a client’s house achieved that, then so be it.
He looked back at the notes Mr Bentley had given him and read over them for what felt like the thousandth time. If the train journey went on any longer, he felt he’d know it all of by heart.
Suddenly, he felt the train slow. Arthur looked back out the window.
He saw a man standing on the station, his briefcase and suitcase next to him on the floor. He appeared to be in a state of distress, constantly looking at his watch.
At the sight of the train, the man picked up his belongings and began to walk along the platform, opening the door of each carriage, and briefly peering into each one.
Eventually, he reached Arthur’s compartment and took a single step in. He looked around, seemingly deep in thought.
He was quite a large man with broad shoulders, and a stern look on his face. He stood stiffly upright with a sense of authority about him. He seemed to be in his late twenties. He had short, brushed back hair, in a light shade of chestnut brown. He wore a professional-looking suit, it looked well-made, and his appearance as a whole was very elegant.
It wasn’t long before the man’s gaze met Arthur’s. They looked at one another. The man’s gaze was strong, Arthur felt like it was drawing him in. This sensation only lasted a few brief moments before the man looked away and boarded the train.
Arthur continued to curiously watch the man as he picked up his luggage and hauled it into the overhead storage.
He didn’t want to be caught staring so Arthur looked back out the window.
There seemed to be a fog settling over the moor. It lingered there eerily, showing no sign of dispersing. Arthur shivered, it seemed a frost was coming too.
“It seems I have exchanged one kind of bad weather for another.” He said, “I left London in the midst of a storm, and here it seems cold enough for snow.”
“In my ten years living here it’s never snowed once, the winds tend to blow the clouds south, taking the rain with it.” The man replied, undoing his coat buttons. He spoke rather confidently and assertively, and had a slight accent.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Arthur replied.
The man gestured to the seat opposite Arthur. “May I?” He asked.
“Of course.” Arthur replied, smiling.
The man sat down, “Samuel. Samuel Daily.” He said, holding out his hand to Arthur who gladly shoot it.
Samuel held Arthur’s hand rather tightly, and he shook it with a confidence, like nothing else Arthur knew.
“Arthur Kipps.” He said, before looking back down at his notes.
Samuel got a newspaper out of his briefcase, which he placed on the table opposite them.
Arthur was half-aware of a whistle being blown and the train set off again.
There was silence for a while before it was broken by Samuel.
“Alice Drablow?” He asked, looking at an envelope on the table.
Arthur looked up. “Yes.” He replied, “did you know her?”
“I know of her.” Samuel replied. “Are you a relative?”
“No. I’m her solicitor.” He quite liked the way it sounded.
“Ah. Bound for the funeral then?”
“I am.”
“You’ll be the only one. She was a strange woman, Drablow was. She kept to herself, no friends or relatives. Then again, maybe living alone in a house like hers does that to you.”
“Ah yes. Eel Marsh House.” Arthur replied. “I’m to collect her papers from there.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t been discouraged by the ghost stories.”
“What stories?”
“Eel Marsh House is a lonely place. An isolated, overgrown mansion in such a far-flung and remote area is the perfect place for children to make tales of hauntings. But don’t fear, there are no ghosts in Crythin Gifford, I can assure you of that.”
Those words comforted Arthur.
“Where are you staying for your visit?” Samuel asked him.
“The Gifford Arms.”
“That’s near my place, I could drive you there if you’d like. My car is at the station.”
Arthur looked at the man, smiling. “I’d like that.”
Samuel smiled back at him. Then he put on his glasses, picked up his newspaper and began to read.
Arthur turned his attention back to his notes.
They didn’t say much else for the rest of the journey, but Arthur enjoyed the company nonetheless. Just the presence of another person settled his nerves about his mission. For the first time, he felt like a proper lawyer.
Suddenly, the train screeched to a halt.
Samuel stood up, taking off his glasses. “Here we are.”
Arthur began to gather up his notes.
Samuel took Arthur’s bag out of the overhead locker and handed it to him as the man stood up.
“Thank you, Mr Daily.” Arthur said, smiling warmly.
Samuel got his own bag and the pair left the train.
From there, Arthur found the journey to Crythin Gifford a very pleasant one. The route was scenic, and they passed all sorts of animals and plants on the way, all pointed out by Samuel. The air smelt of sweet honey and roses, and the landscape was like nothing like Arthur had ever seen. The sky seemed to shine in a vivid shade of deep blue. Lakes were scattered around, and reflected the rolling green hills behind them.
But most of all, Arthur enjoyed the company of his companion. While he told far-off tales of London, Samuel shared the wonders of the countryside. Their conversation seemed to flow and they found they had much in common. Samuel was well-mannered and well-spoken, and Arthur enjoying listening to his experiences. He listened about how Samuel had lived up north with his parents when he was young but moved to Crythin Gifford when was nineteen, and how his older sister lived in London.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at their destination and the car slowed to a stop.
“Well, here we are. The Gifford Arms.” Samuel said.
They both got out of the car.
Samuel got Arthur’s luggage from the back for him. Arthur took it gratefully.
“Thank you for all your kindness Mr Daily.” He said.
“It was a pleasure having you.” Samuel replied, “Here, take this.” He took a small card out of his blazer pocket and gave it to Arthur. It read ‘Samuel Daily’ with a telephone number. “Anything you need, give me a call.”
“Thank you. I will.” Arthur replied.
Samuel got back in the car and gave Arthur a little wave.
Arthur smiled and waved back. He stood in front of the inn and watched as Samuel drove away, clutching the business card tightly in his hand.
He looked at it once more with a smile on his face.
Then, he carefully placed the card safely in his pocket and entered the Gifford Arms.