I nodded and stepped fully inside, the door closing softly behind me.
And just like that, I was back in the castle.
Geoffrey led me down a side corridor I hadn’t noticed yesterday.
“Basement access is restricted to household staff,” he said as we walked. “Mr. Renault prefers minimal traffic.”
“Understandable,” I said. “Basements are where people keep either holiday decorations or secrets.”
“Neither,” he replied calmly.
That was not reassuring. We reached a door at the end of the hall. Geoffrey unlocked it and pulled it open. Cool air drifted up the stairs.
“After you,” he said.
I descended carefully. This was not a damp, concrete-box basement. This was finished and climate-controlled, lit evenly by recessed fixtures. Shelves were built into the walls with the kind of craftsmanship that suggested someone had debated wood grain for weeks.
And it was full of antique trunks stacked neatly. Labeled archival boxes and framed artwork wrapped in protective paper lined the walls. Shelving units were lined with meticulously stored objects such as silver, glassware, old ledgers, and what looked like historical documents.
“Inventory, dusting, catalog confirmation,” Geoffrey said smoothly. “Several items were relocated during renovation. Mr. Renault would like everything accounted for.”
“Of course he would,” I murmured.
This would take days, probably.
“Double rate applies to the entirety of the project,” Geoffrey added.
I kept my face neutral.
“Noted.”
My brain was already calculating. Double rate. Multiple days. Maybe a week if done thoroughly. This could bridge the gap for step-up care. Not forever, but long enough to breathe.
Geoffrey handed me a clipboard with neatly printed spreadsheets. “Each shelf is coded. Cross-reference as you go.”
“This is extremely organized for a basement,” I said.
“It reflects the house.”
I glanced around again.
“And Mr Renault is okay with me doing this? This seems like a lot of trust to put into someone he just met.”
Geoffrey nodded his head slightly. “He asked for you personally. He seems to believe you are more than trustworthy.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to say. I wasn’t sure how to process that information.
“I must say I agree with him. I hope you will fit in well here.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, is there anything else you need before I let you get to work?”
“Nope, I’ll start here,” I said, setting my bag down near the bottom step.
Geoffrey inclined his head. “If you require anything, I will be upstairs.”
Then he left. The door at the top of the stairs closed softly. And I stood alone in the most intimidating basement I had ever encountered. I ran a hand along the nearest shelf, careful not to disturb anything. Then I grabbed the clipboard and got to work.
