The Lower Strangling Chronicles
She had to choose which cards to add to the sequence to create a full suit. Her current bank balance depended on it.
Penelope Maidmunt chose a card; it was the five of clubs.
“Great,” she thought, “I can add it to the other four cards on the deck.”
Solitaire was an integral part of Penelope’s daily routine, as were Blackjack, Poker, and Rummy.
She worked as well, of course, acting as the personal secretary for former Fascist MP Lord Christoph Flooding, who was currently hiding in his sprawling country mansion, plotting his political comeback whilst listening to a specially curated Spotify Playlist featuring music from his favourite artists, ranging from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to Sabrina Carpenter.
Penelope fielded emails from journos seeking an exclusive interview with Lord Flooding, as well as from his friends and family.
But what she loved most was gambling; she couldn’t get enough of it.
There was something about risking the money she already had to gain more money that was, by no means, guaranteed.
She didn’t think it was a problem. She factored in her hobby into her strict budgeting programme.
Penelope was going to stop when it started to get out of hand; she knew that.
Her most recent game transfixed her to the point that she was completely unaware of the 1,001 unread emails in her inbox.
The only thing that brought her back into reality was a knock on the door and a visitation from Lord Flooding’s Butler Bert Stevens.
He approached Penelope, gazing at her fixedly whilst drawing his eyebrows together.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” Bert said, edging closer towards his subject.
Penelope glanced up from her phone and gawped at the butler. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Bert stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat and striding closer to her.
“Lord Flooding would like that vase moved from here into the Library.”
The butler pointed towards a bright pink Orchid planted inside an ornate stone vase.
Penelope observed the vase, then turned back to her phone.
“Fine, I’ll do it. Just after I’ve finished this game.”
Bert tilted his head and pursed his lips. “It really can’t wait, ma’me. He’d like the vase in the library immediately.”
“Couldn’t Charlotte do it?” Penelope said, gazing deeply into her phone. “She’s the housekeeper, isn’t she?”
“Yes. But Charlotte is busy dusting the antiques, whereas you are in the same room as the vase.”
Penelope sighed. “Fine. Just give me a moment.”
“Of course, ma’me,” Bert said, bowing and pounding towards the door.
But when he opened it, Christoph’s Head Gardener, Geoffrey Johnson, stood in the doorway, clutching a tin box covered in soil.
“There you are, Bert. I was just wondering what to do with this box I found in the garden,” Geoffrey said, shoving the box in Bert’s face.
Bert backed away from the flying earth and grumbled as he inspected the debris on the floor.
“Take it to Lord Flooding and see what he thinks, and try to avoid spilling too much soil onto the floor; otherwise, Charlotte won’t finish her spring clean until June.”
“Oh yes, ‘course,” Geoffrey said, hiding the box under his huge overcoat and stomping away to where Christoph currently was.
“Remember to bring the vase,” Bert said to Penelope before daintily stepping out of the room and closing the door.
Penelope’s game finished. She had lost and wasted about 200 pounds, but she was okay with that.
She threw the phone down on the sofa and marched over to the vase.
Penelope grabbed the vase and began to push.
She screamed as she applied all her weight to the stone monolith.
After a while, the behemoth scraped against the wooden flooring and moved away.
Penelope caught her breath, gazing at the floor beneath her feet.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped at what she saw.
Underneath the vase was what appeared to be a square hatch in the floor.
She knelt, grabbed the small handle, and tried to open it.
But the door was locked and required a key.
She scanned the room, trying to find a hint.
Penelope sifted through old boxes and drawers, but could find no stray Keys anyway.
She espied the vase and dug her hands into the soil, flinging it all over the oak-panelled flooring.
There was no key, and Penelope sighed exasperatedly.
She wiped the sweat off her forehead, observing the mess she’d made on the floor.
“Charlotte can sweep it up later,” Penelope thought to herself.
She studied the ancient bookcases lining the room.
As she did so, her face lit up, and she ran over to them.
One by one, Penelope flicked through what looked like the oldest books on the shelves, but no key fell out from them.
She groaned as she reached the last book, ready to give up and return to her game of Solitaire.
But as she examined the hefty tome, Penelope noticed that some pages were missing.
Her eyes bulged as she leafed through the book until she got to the missing pages.
As Penelope did so, something metal fell out of it and landed onto the floor with a small thud.
She grinned and punched the air when she saw the small key at her feet.
Penelope quickly placed the book back on the shelf, picked up the key, and ran over to the hatch.
She felt a lightness in her chest when she placed the key through the keyhole and heard a click as she turned it.
Penelope opened the hatch and gasped.
The hatch appeared to lead to a secret passageway, accessed by a ladder.
She laughed as she gazed down the hole, bouncing from foot to foot.
Penelope slammed the hatch shut and ran out of her office.
“Lord Flooding! Lord Flooding,” she cried as she raced down Cedarvale House’s long corridors towards the library.
Christoph lounged in a red leather armchair, gazing up at the ceiling, whilst listening to Sabrina Carpenter.
The shutters on the French windows were closed, and the library entrance was locked.
He did this purely so that absolutely no one knew that he secretly liked frivolous pop music.
He spun his foot in the air in time to the music.
Christoph quietly sang along to the lyrics.
“Adore me. Hold me and explore me. I’m so fu-“
A loud knock on the door startled Christoph into action.
He leapt out of his seat and quickly switched the song on his Spotify playlist to Mozart’s Requiem, K. 626: liif. Lacrimosa, his official theme.
Christoph cleared his throat and stood to attention in front of the door.
“You may proceed,” Christoph said.
Penelope rushed into the room.
The sight of Christoph staring at her, his hands clasped behind his back, and the soaring voices of the choir made her heart race.
“Lord Flooding,” Penelope said, gulping down some saliva and shakily dabbing in front of her employer, Christoph, who had adopted the dab as the replacement for the often frowned-upon Roman salute.
“What is the reason for your intrusion?” Christoph said, easing himself into his seat and daintily crossing his legs.
Penelope gulped once more and stepped closer to Lord Flooding.
“I’ve discovered a secret passageway in my office,” Penelope said, slipping her hands into her pockets.
Christoph furrowed his eyebrows and relaxed them, a sneer on his face.
“Really? Whilst sifting through my digital correspondence? My, you’ve certainly mastered the art of multitasking.”
Christoph quickly turned off his playlist when Mozart ended, hoping Penelope didn’t catch the few seconds of Chappell Roan that had managed to break through.
“Yes, Lord Flooding,” Penelope said. “I thought you might like to have a look.”
Christoph raised an eyebrow. “Really, would I now?”
Penelope pulled at the bottom of her t-shirt. “Yes. It could lead somewhere quite interesting. Useful even.”
Christoph leaned closer in his seat, making Penelope lean backwards.
“Very well,” he said after an uncomfortably long silence. “If it means you will focus on what I pay you to do for the rest of the day.”
“Of course, Lord Flooding,” Penelope said, bowing her head and marching towards the door.
She flung it open and let it swing on its hinges as she flew over the threshold.
Christoph sighed as he gently rose from his seat, sauntered towards the door, and glided towards his secretary’s office.
Christoph gazed down at the deep, dark hole before him.
“How do I know that this isn’t simply an elaborate maintenance hole cover leading to the sewage system?”
Penelope gazed down at her phone, well on her way to winning £500 in her latest game of Solitaire.
“Hmm?” She said, gawping at her employer.
Christoph sighed and glared at Penelope. “This hole, how do I know that it leads somewhere worthwhile?”
“Don’t know,” Penelope said, shrugging. “Go down it and find out.”
Christoph observed the chasm beneath the oak-panelled flooring and scowled at Penelope.
“Olivia is currently preparing my dinner. Wherever this subterranean concourse leads, you need to assure me that I’ll return to Cedarvale in time for the meal.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Penelope said, fixating on her phone.
Christoph glanced up at the ceiling. “I am aware that this house is full of secrets. There are legends of a sizable priest hole located in the attic.”
He smiled at his secretary. “If there is one, I plan to convert it into another bedroom.”
Penelope side-eyed the hatch. “What’s the point of installing a secret passageway if it didn’t lead to somewhere cool?”
Christoph knelt and peered over the edge. “I suppose there is a hint of truth in that statement.”
“I’d go down there if I were you,” Penelope said, punching the air upon winning £1000 in her Solitaire game.
Christoph lightly stroked the first rung and examined the dirt on his fingers.
He gazed down at his glossy black Oxford shoes, an heirloom inherited from his grandmother.
“The ladder does seem awfully filthy,” Christoph said, grimacing as he cleaned his finger on his napkin. “It wouldn’t do my suit much good to venture down a couloir as unhygienic as this.”
He glanced at Penelope’s desk, where a framed family photograph from when he was much younger stared back at him mockingly.
“Oh come on, Lord Flooding, live a little,” Penelope said, staring deep into her phone screen. “You’re not an MP anymore, it isn’t like you’ve got anything better to do.”
Christoph cringed at the picture on the desk, and he turned the photograph face down.
“I am compiling my memoirs,” Christoph said, edging closer towards the abyss. “And that book on Stonehenge I’ve vowed to compose for the past twenty years.”
Penelope crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “A short trip down a dark passageway isn’t going to take much time. You shouldn’t have come here if you weren’t ready to see where it goes.”
Christoph stared into the void, and, with a deep breath, tentatively placed a foot on the first rung.
“The torch on your phone could be of use to me,” Christoph said, easing himself into the darkness. “It may be best if you came as well, so long as you return to work a second after returning.”
Penelope pocketed her phone and rushed towards the hole. “Of course, Lord Flooding.”
She stood on the first rung and quickly climbed down the hatch.
“If hidden vestibules pique your interest, then the Secret of Oakhurst Mansion by K. G. Arkwright might be to your liking, if you need some light bedtime reading,” Christoph called from further down the hatch.
“I didn’t see you as much of a novel reader, Lord Flooding,” Penelope said, grabbing the trapdoor and pulling it shut behind her.
“I delve into the occasional tome from time to time,” Lord Flooding said, shuddering at the touch of the damp wall behind him.
Penelope laughed as she switched on the light on her torch and led the way.
Together, the MP and his secretary ventured into the unknown, on a quest to see where it led.
The Baronet’s son and his secretary looked at each other as they traversed the damp, dark, cold tunnel they were in.
“Whoever built this corridor clearly put some effort into it,” Penelope said as she examined the concrete walls next to her and the slabs beneath her feet.”
“Indeed, it makes the journey somewhat tolerable,” Christoph said. “If I were trampling in thick mud, my soul would slowly ebb away with each step.”
Penelope laughed as she wandered further into the darkness, oblivious to where she might end up.
Christoph gazed at his secretary over the bridge of his nose. “I believe you should know that a quiet but unwavering voice in my head is telling me, ‘don’t go with her, turn back.’
“You know you want to see where this leads, at least deep down,” Penelope said, smiling at her employer. “You had every chance not to follow me.”
Christoph groaned and sauntered on ahead, using the torch on his own phone to guide the way.
Penelope frowned as Christoph picked up the pace in front of her and trailed him.
Christoph slightly loosened his posture once he felt he was alone.
He went for a walk, as he usually did around the sprawling deer park that surrounded Cedarvale House, except he was marching down a dark, narrow tunnel, not sure where he was going or what was above ground.
Penelope felt an irritating itch on her back; she tried to reach it but couldn’t scratch it.
She struggled with her free hand as she caught up with Christoph.
“I’ve got this awful itch on my back, Lord Flooding,” Penelope said, writhing about with her arm. “Are you able to scratch it?”
Christoph grimaced at his companion. “I could not possibly do such a thing. The fact that I am alone down here with you at all is far too familiar an activity for me to do with a member of staff. To scratch your back would be catastrophic for my reputation.”
Penelope gestured exaggeratedly around her. “Look around you, Lord Flooding, we’re the only people here. Who’s going to spot you scratching your secretary’s back?”
Christoph glanced around the darkness around him, to make sure he was truly alone with Penelope.
He sighed and bowed his head. “Very well, I suppose it will only be a few seconds.”
“Great,” Penelope said, turning her back so Christoph could scratch it.
Christoph grimaced at his shoes and stooped over as he scratched Penelope’s back.
As her itch disappeared, Penelope had the opposite experience, as her posture perked up and her chin jutted out.
She sighed, a smile on her face. “Much better. Thanks, Lord Flooding.”
Christoph sighed as he straightened his back.
“We shall never speak of this again,” Christoph said, frowning at the seemingly never-ending road in front of him.
“Fine. I’m happy with that,” Penelope said, smiling as she skipped on ahead.
Christoph buckled and lumbered on behind her like a tired Zombie.
For what felt like eternity, they wandered further into the abyss.
Christoph and Penelope’s limbs began to ache, and their feet began to blister.
Penelope felt her stomach rumble, and she bent over, hugging herself.
“I’m hungry. Is it possible to get a takeaway when we get to the other side?” Penelope said to Christoph.
“You may do as you wish,” Christoph said, holding his head high and mightily whilst marching on. “I shall wait for the meal that Charlotte is currently preparing for me.”
“Ok, sure,” Penelope said, as she ignored her hunger pains and focused on her goal.
Christoph’s brow began to wrinkle as he wandered through the shadows.
“What if this passageway really does lead to nothing but a blank wall?” Christoph said,
“Then we walk back, haven’t succeeded in finding out where it leads,” Penelope said, smiling at Christoph.
Christoph arched his back. “We can only hope that our journey is worthwhile.”
He glared at his secretary. “Your job could be on the line, perhaps more.”
Penelope laughed nervously before banging herself on the ladder run in front of her.
“Ow,” she said, rubbing her forehead.
Christoph shone his torch at the ladder. “We appear to be in luck. There does indeed appear to be a way out.”
He gazed up the ladder until his torch fell on a small wooden door at the top of it.
“A surprisingly intricate door for somewhere that is otherwise primitive,” Christoph mused, observing the door.
Without hesitating, Penelope placed her feet on the ladder and began to climb up.
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s find out what’s behind that door,” Penelope said.
Christoph sighed and gingerly climbed after her.
His limbs were weak, and he could feel his legs threatening to give way.
But fortunately, neither he nor his secretary fell off the ladder, and Penelope opened the door to a blinding white light.
She crawled through the door towards the other side, and so did Christoph.
When Penelope’s eyes finally adjusted to the sunlight, she was perplexed by what she found.
“Oh,” Penelope said, scanning the buildings and cars around her.
Christoph and Penelope had found themselves in the middle of Cygninia, having entered via the elaborate memorial situated on the marketplace.
A wry smile appeared on Christoph’s face as he observed the urban scene around him.
“This discovery could prove very useful,” Christoph said.
Ever since his disastrous election loss, resulting in the disbandment of his party, Christoph had decided to keep a low public profile.
However, he still liked popping into town, five miles from Cedarvale House.
His secretary had discovered a means for him to do so without attracting too much attention.
So long, of course, that no one spotted him emerging from and slipping into the comically tiny door in the memorial.
“I was wondering what was behind that door,” Penelope said, examining the beige structure behind her.
Christoph glanced at his secretary. “May I ask a favour of you?”
Penelope smiled at her employer. “Of course, Lord Flooding, fire away.”
Christoph cleared his throat. “Do not speak of this to anyone, and under no circumstances assume this small excursion has turned me into your friend.”
Penelope bowed her head. “As you wish, Lord Flooding, when we go back, I will resume reading your emails and only bother you at your request.”
Christoph picked up a small town guide that someone had littered on the floor and perused it.
“Is there anything you wanted to do since you’re here?” Penelope said as Christoph slipped the leaflet into his breast pocket.
Christoph browsed the shops across the busy thoroughfare.
“Not at the moment, I have all the supplies I need,” Christoph said.
The world began to swirl around Penelope, making her stumble backwards.
“Whew,” she said, cradling her head. “I’m feeling a bit busy. I will need to get a sandwich before we go back.”
“Very well,” Christoph said. “I will wait here for your return.”
“Sure,” Penelope said, making her way towards the road. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Christoph bowed his head as she crossed the road, then stood sentinel by the memorial, observing his former constituents as they wandered around him.
But then someone caught his eye, Cygninia’s current MP, Joseph Benson.
He was his greatest enemy and had made ruining his political career his top priority.
To avoid being spotted, Christoph pivoted around and acted as naturally as he could.
As he did so, he espied a building across the road that housed a rare artefact.
It was an earring worn by Cygninia’s favourite son, the playwright Thomas Cranmer, a man whose coattails the town was still riding on, despite being dead for four hundred years.
Christoph squinted at the black chalkboard advertising the exhibition outside the building, and leant closer to it.
Almost as if an unseen force was sucking him in, he strode towards the building and breezed in.
About fifty minutes later, Penelope returned to the memorial, stuffing a Baguette into her mouth, which she had bought with some of her Solitaire winnings.
She froze on the spot when she saw that Christoph was missing.
Penelope raised an eyebrow and did a brief tour of the memorial, but Christoph was nowhere to be seen.
She opened the tiny door and gazed down into the dark chasm.
“Are you down there, Lord Flooding?” Penelope said, calling into the void.
She almost fell in when someone pushed her from behind, making her squeal.
“Yes, yes, go down there now,” Christoph said, fiddling with something in his pocket. “We’ve had our fun.”
Penelope glared at Christoph as she turned round and eased herself into the passageway.
“Careful, Lord Flooding, I could have fallen in, then.”
“Perhaps, and for that I am sorry,” Christoph said, watching the commotion outside the building he had just visited. “But we really have no time to use.”
Once Penelope had climbed down far enough, Christoph himself climbed down the ladder, making sure the item in his pocket was safe.
By the time Lord Flooding and his secretary made it back to Cedarvale House, a story had made the front cover of the Cygninia Tittle Tattle about Thomas Cranmer’s priceless earring going missing.
The Administrative Board had been informed, and Chief Administrator General Sir Gordon Ainsworth had vowed to find the lost earring, if it was the last thing he did.
The article did not perturb Christoph himself.
After all, he didn’t feature in the article at all.
The only thing he did was laugh, placing the newspaper to one side, and leaning further into his armchair.
He smiled at the shiny piece of jewellery in the glass box opposite him, as he sat calmly in his library, listening to frivolous pop music.
The Robinsonverse 