Unseen Guests

I accepted the invitation to stay at Fernley House against the warnings of my friends on the basis that their warnings, while both sincere and repeatedly urged, lacked specifics, and therefore appeared vague next to the much more detailed fact that my recent labors had quite prepared me for a period of rest and relaxation at some charming country estate such as even my friends allowed Fernley House to be.
After a trip which gave no reason to record it, I was welcomed most hospitably and spent an affable afternoon with the host and other guests whose names, I am sure all will agree, I ought not to expose to public attention without more cause than I have. Afterwards, I was shown to my room, which impressed me by its size as I calculated it based on the length between its door and the next. The other doors in that hall, I noticed, were similarly distant from one another. I asked the servant who had conducted me there, who shall also remain unidentified, if the rooms were truly so large as they appeared.
"Not at all, sir. They are only half the size you think. The other half is taken up by, well, the 'other room,' sir."
I am not unacquainted with the ways of the world, I think, and yet I had at that time no clue what the man might mean. I inquired further.
"The 'other room,' sir. For the 'other you' as well as the 'other guests.' We certainly cannot neglect their accommodations, can we? But do not concern yourself, sir. You are quite unable to reach the doors to their rooms, just as they, yours. I hope you have a good night, sir."
Feeling no more informed, I entered my room, which lacked nothing as far as amenities or comfort. I attempted to sleep, and I succeeded despite my suspicions I would not. However, I was awakened several times during the night by sounds such as voices and thumps which I do not care to describe out of an inability to do so first, and second out of concern for the sensibilities of any who might read this. Suffice it to say I would not have been surprised to hear of a corpse or even a scandal the next day, but nothing of the sort came to my attention. My excursion continued pleasantly enough, though I suspected from their expressions and mannerisms that some of the other guests had also experienced a troubling night.
When my stay came to an end, the host told me he was always unsure which guest truly left, between the one he had invited and the 'other you.' He then laughed and said of course both left together by necessity, and that I should think nothing more of it, which of course caused me to worry when I had no reason to before.
Nevertheless, I resumed my accustomed occupation and over time all but forgot the incident till years later, when I happened to find myself to Duke S_, who had been a guest at Fernley House at the same time as I. We talked of nothing important, as people do when there is a topic they fear to broach. Eventually Duke S_ exercised the privilege of his profession and asked what I thought of that 'other you' business.
"At the least," I responded, "I take solace in the assurance that 'me' is in fact 'other.'"
"Quite right, that is something, isn't it. Glad I asked."
Even so, I sometimes wonder what sort of life the 'other me' leads, and I shudder.
Finis