She was careful in every step, a smile on her face as she greets the hungry crowd of suitors, all who ache for her hand. Her name is Charlotte Hederon and she is the new lady of the Birchmund estate. Her husband passed, very quietly, two months ago. There was a solemn funeral and a quiet gathering after where the lot of us gathered to meet her and greet her. The Birchmund estate was a grand home, castle-like in appearance and cabin-like in feeling. There were enough small rooms in the house to make every one of us feel like we belonged, like any conversation with her was personal and solitary. She waltzed down the stairs, dressed beautifully. Her eyes were masked by a red butterfly that sat perfectly along her nose and about her rouged cheeks and lips.
All the men in the room stood and smiled at her. They bowed at her presence. She reached the break in the stairs and she leaned into the railing. "Good evening, fellows." She was met with a resounding good evening in an assortment of pitches and accents. I stayed quiet.
"It is very nice to finally meet all of you. As you all know, my husband has passed and a home of this grandeur cannot exist without a male head."
Everyone shifted. This was real.
"As you all are aware of the laws in place, I need a husband to assure this home stays as is. For this, I have a challenge. Most of you will quit, others will triumph. But only one will truly win. You must find the key to my quarters. That is the only rule. No one in this home will tell you exactly where or what room they are in. The winner will be my new husband. Losers will all receive wedding invitations. Good luck."
Then the room became savage. Men were yelling, grabbing at one another. The beautiful woman turned and made her way back up the stairs. She turned, looked at me and removed her mask. Her tresses of black hair swung into her face. And she smiled.
I felt as if I had already won.
Hours past and there was still no victor. Men were giving up, going home to their beds. Some were even becoming manic. Most were crying, "We'll never get married now!" I laughed at their tribulations.
There were fistfights, men who fought exhausted were beaten to a pulp.
I found my way up the stairs. The savages laid on the floor and cried out for help. They needed the key. I made my way toward her chambers and knocked twice.
"Do you have the key?"
"There is no key."
"There is."
"No, there isn't. Men have scraped these halls for a key. You kept the key."
A laugh met the door creaking open. Petite fingers pulled the chain from her bosom. There was the key.