The Fainting Room

 

Patron reward for April 2020, now let out of lockdown for hoi polloi, a short and dubious tale called:

The Fainting Room

The House Of Half A Thousand Rooms lived up to its name thought Algernon Farquarh as he followed Shivers down the garden corridor.

“Here, the Tapestry Room,” said the small, rat-face man. Farquarh dragged his attention away from the jungle-green undergrowth he could see through the glass wall on his right. Looking through the elaborate doorway he saw a large room, every surface covered in wall hangings.

“Very nice,” said Farquarh

“It is not the only room with tapestries,” said Shivers, leading him on, shoes tapping on the polished floor. “It was named by the Third Duke, who believed his women-folk should weave, but as they were noble, mere clothing was beneath them. That was their work room. Now here the harmonium room – as you can see there are three instruments, each from a different century, and of course the gift-wrapping room.”

Farquarh admired this last; a small apartment with small tables and large tables, and generous supplies of paper and ribbon, cloth and gum and sealing wax. He turned to Shivers and noticed a discreet door to his right. “And that one...” he asked.

“Ah the fainting room.”

Farquarh though he had misheard. “The painting room?” Surely such a room should be south-facing to catch the light, like the window wall behind him.

“No the fainting room, where ladies can recover when they are overcome.”

Farquarh frowned in thought. “Does that occur frequently?”

“Indeed. Though I wonder if, perhaps, sometimes, such spells might be, ah, diplomatic, to enable a conversation to end without embarrassment all round.”

Farquarh shook his head. “I shall never cease to be surprised at the duplicity of women. And beyond?”

Shivers brightened up. “Ah yes. Come through. Visit the Secret Seraglio.”