All Cats Are Gray In The Dark.


Little Mary did not spare a glance toward me, nor made a welcoming gesture, until after he waved me into a cavernous room. He shut the door behind me and gave a deep curtsy. He took my coat and click clacked across the floor in a pair of old, fashioned ankle high black boots. They were meant to be utilitarian, not stylish.

I took advantage of his absence and took stock of my surroundings. Yup-thread bare carpets and dark ancient furniture loomed over me like a nightmare forest of sinister trees. There was a fire blazing in a huge fire place and the opening looked a gaping maw into hell. Cold AND creepy. I thought I saw something dark from the corner of my eye, darting by. I spun quickly but saw nothing. There! I saw it again! What the hell was it...rats? I shifted uneasily from one high heeled boot to the other and clasped my elbows. I looked up and studied a life sized oil portrait of a severe, humorless and whippet thin woman. I knew immediately this was Little Mary's mother.

In the distance, I heard the strains of what sounded like a warbling opera. Over that, I could discern the tapping of Little Mary's black boots, signaling his return. I straighted my shoulders and turned to meet him. He was walking toward me in mincing steps, carrying a very old, heavy looking silver serving tray loaded with pastries, delicate sandwiches,china and a coffee urn. He was ushered in and surrounded by what appeared to be a seething gray sea of rats. I took a step back before I recognized the frantic mewings were those of cats. There had to be forty of them, some small kittens and some were full grown. I relaxed. I like cats.

I seated myself in a high back chair, with a tattered leather seat. Little Mary bent on one knee in front of me, placing the tray on a long slab of a coffee table. It looked like something a gathering of knights should have been seated around. He stood in front of me, wig askew and said

"Madame do you need anything else? May I pour your coffee and serve you some biscuits"? I nodded, slightly imperious and bent down to stroke the beautiful cats that were winding themselves around my ankles.

"Madame I could not help but notice how you were studying the portrait of our former Mistress. She was very lovely, was she not"? Not, I thought. I nodded and made a non committal noise. I noticed the past tense. I was meant to.

"Yes...everyone loved her. This house used to be ablaze with parties and the finest people of quality spent many nights of gaiety under this roof.' He sighed wistfully and stared at the painting of the very constipated looking woman.

"What happened to her"? I asked as I shook off one of the tiny kittens which was attempting to clamor up my very expensive stockings.

"No one knows...one night after a party she simply disappeared. They searched the grounds and of course the authorities were called in, but it has remained a mystery to this day. Mrs.De Winter, or Rebbecca as she allowed me to call her (at this, he looked down bashfully) was never found." I looked at him sharply.
This story sounded hauntingly familiar. I glanced over at the corner, momentarily distracted by more movement from the corner of the room. I got up and walked over to a low, small box. Inside, a lone gray kitten was scratching madly at the sides. I scooped it up and stared straight into its wide set, innocent green eyes.

"Why is this one all alone?" I held it to my chest where it relaxed instantly and began to purr.

He looked at it distastefully and answered shortly.

'It is inferior. It will never show. It was born with a protruding rib an it will ruin the lines".

"Show'? I echoed

"Yes. They are Russian Blues and are bred to show in cat shows. Not that one, it's useless. You couldn't give it away. They can go up to a thousand dollars." He actually sniffed.

"I'll take it." I held it a little tighter to my breast and kissed the top of it's tiny head.It stared up at me as though I were it's entire world.

"Madame'? He actually arched a nearly invisible brow in polite and disdainful inquiry.

"I said, I want it". I handed him the squirming kitten and pointed at the box. He took it hesitantly from me and did as I commanded.

"Now pour and tell me more about the late Mrs. De Winter. And fix your wig. It's crooked."