Whatever the reason, Serena stood dumbfounded as she encountered one exquisite piece of work after another. The colours, the lines—every detail spoke of beauty. The wall painting portrayed a mermaid perched on dangerous rocks, beckoning to a nearby ship from which a young man stared at her with wistful longing. His imagery spoke to her of a yearning for perfection and its unattainable nature.
‘What do you think?’
What could she say? That she was speechless with amazement? Serena didn’t want him to know his creativity astounded her. He was still her gaoler. She pursed her lips, trying to think of a set-down.
Mr King didn’t wait for her response, but strode over to two of the easels. ‘Some are unfinished. Did you see this?’
No, she hadn’t. Between the stands was a small pedestal, atop which sat a pretty ceramic vase with a delicate ceramic rose hanging over the lip. ‘Oh, it’s perfect,’ Serena breathed before she remembered she was trying to hide her enjoyment. ‘Where did you find that?’
Mr King’s mouth stretched into the first full smile Serena had seen, and her heart thumped despite her determination to remain indifferent. ‘I made it.’
‘You made it? Is there nothing you can’t do?’
‘Very little.’ Mr Xavier answered for him.
It had to be an exaggeration, but right now, Serena was overwhelmed. It was a bad idea to have come here. As much as she wanted to find more faults with him, the brilliance he accomplished outweighed any social ineptitude. She searched the room again. Sure enough, there were several more pedestals with delightful ceramic sculptures, and even wood carvings on them. ‘You made those too, I expect?’ She rolled her eyes and ran her fingers over the perfectly smooth wood.
‘I did.’
Serena sucked in a deep breath and released it with a loud sigh. ‘Well, Mr King. I never imagined you’d surprise me again, but I confess I am quite astonished.’
That evening at the family dinner table, the cook, as always, brought out covered platters and everyone began serving themselves food. When the door opened and Mr King entered the room, the whole family seemed surprised.
‘Ed, what brings you down here to us mere mortals?’ Mr Jones winked at him.
‘Robert, don’t be a tease.’ Mrs Jones scolded her husband playfully, then turned to her brother. ‘It is nice to see you here, dear.’
‘Yes, I thought I might join you for supper this evening,’ Mr King said as he pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat. ‘What has Becker delivered up tonight? Something delicious I hope. It smells divine at any rate.’ He glanced up and saw that everyone stared at him. ‘What? Cannot a man enjoy a meal in his own dining room?’
‘Of course, dear.’ Mrs Jones sent reproachful glares at her sons and husband, who then returned to dishing up food as if nothing strange had taken place.
Serena watched the entire exchange with piqued interest, whilst forking succulent duck and greens into her mouth. That was definitely one benefit of being stuck at Aleron—exceptional food.
The family seemed unaccustomed to Mr King’s presence in the room. Indeed, Serena had not seen him in the dining room once in the three weeks she’d been here. Clearly it was not a common occurrence. Was it as Mr Jones insinuated—Mr King thought himself so far above the others that he secluded himself? Or did he never have time to leave his work and eat with his family?
‘Have we all had a pleasant day?’ If Mr King noticed his family’s awkwardness, he did not show it.
A round of ‘yes, thank yous’ followed, but only Mr Jones continued. ‘Reverend Phillips gave a stirring sermon this morning. He spoke about the prophet Ezekiel. Did you know he prophesied the destruction of several ruling powers well before they took place? Fascinating stuff.’
‘He was probably an intellect of his time. You would only need to study a nation and how it managed its affairs to figure out its downfall was inevitable. Prophecy is overrated. Pass me the duck, please.’
Mr Simon sent the requested platter along the table.
Mr Jones would not be dissuaded. ‘And yet their destruction was not always from internal mismanagement. Many were decimated when overtaken by foreign nations. How could you predict that? Besides, he would have to be well travelled to study every nation he prophesied against. But he was just an exile living in Babylon.’
‘Nevertheless, Robert, there would be a logical explanation. To say he heard the voice of God is absurd.’ Mr King selected a leg, before spooning greens onto his plate.
‘You are very adamant for someone who has studied almost every work of ancient writing except for the Bible.’
Serena didn’t miss the twinkle in Mr Jones’s eyes. He enjoyed baiting his brother-in-law.
‘And you are rather adamant for one who chose not to take orders, but joined the military instead.’
The twinkle in Mr Jones eyes died, replaced with a flash of regret. Had Mr King just insulted his brother-in-law?
Mr King, ignoring the effect of his words, turned to his nephew, his fork poised near his mouth.
‘What have you been up to this afternoon, Simon?’
‘I worked on my project.’ Although the young gardener brightened with his uncle in the room, he remained somewhat sullen, and kept a suspicious eye on Serena.
Mr Jones nodded toward Serena. ‘He works with wood as a hobby. He’s building a roosting box for the local birds at present, and he’s got other projects in motion, too.’
‘Oh.’ Serena nodded. So, the creativity didn’t stop with Mr King.
‘He made me a brilliant rocker last year.’ Mr Xavier beamed with pride.
‘And I received a lovely carved trinket box for my last birthday,’
