Page 29 of Mistress of Darkness

“And difficult to see,” she agreed, “if you didn’t know to look. But perhaps…” She smoothed her fingers across the wall. “…it would be easier to feel than see.” She closed her eyes.

Though he knew that he should do the same, he couldn’t help but watch her for a moment. A tiny furrow creased the space between her elegant eyebrows as she concentrated. Her petal shaped lips parted, ever so slightly, and he could see her eyes moving beneath the closed lids.

“Your staring at me isn’t going to help,” she said quietly, eyes still closed. A little smile played across her lips. “Try the other wall.”

Reluctantly he left her and began his own touch exploration. Because of the deeply textured flocking, it was as difficult to feel a fine detail as it was to see it. For several silent minutes, the two of them explored. But just when he’d been ready to give up, his index finger brushed over something. He stopped and opened his eyes.

At first he didn’t see anything, amidst the mass of swirling designs meant to look like cut velvet flowers and leaves. But just to the left of his finger, there was something he couldn’t quite make out. Was it a shadow? He moved closer for a better look. No, it was a gap—and a straight one at that. His gaze shot downward, following the line all the way to the floor.

“Gwen? I think you should have a look at this.”

She was at his side in an instant. “You did it!” she exclaimed. “Now push, just to one side of the line.”

Again he did as she instructed, and they were instantly rewarded with a small click, the sound of faint scraping, and the revolving door moving inward.

“Amazing,” he whispered, as they peered inside.

Dust and cobwebs filled the short passage which ended in a sharp left turn. Beyond that, there was only darkness.

“It needs light,” she said, hurrying off and returning with two candles and matches. He quickly lit them and, when she would have gone first, he put a light hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “Honestly,” she said, “I explored the first one on my own.”

“That’s because I wasn’t there,” he said, “and you were more foolhardy then. Now that you are mine, I cannot permit it.” Then he pointed at the floor just inside the door. “Besides, look at what you would have tread on.”

There, in the dust of the floor, were scuff marks. She lowered her candle to them. “If I’m not mistaken, these are fresh. No dust has settled within them.”

“Can you tell if they are from a man or woman’s shoe?” he asked, since the narrow passage would only fit one of them.

She shook her head and stood. “They’re just scuff marks.”

Though she looked into the passage, lifting her candle for what light it shed, she did not proceed further. Instead, with a heavy sigh, she stayed where she was. Finally she looked at him, and motioned for him to pass her.

* * *

As Gwen followedRobert into the dark passage, and made the left turn, she could barely suppress her excitement. Where would it lead? Would they find a secret room at last? Had Mrs. Thorne been right about Miss Wilson skulking in deep shadows?

Although this passageway was of a height where they didn’t need to crawl, it wound left and right so many times that she completely lost her sense of direction. Where in the world could they possibly be after so many steps?

Robert came to a stop in front of her. “There it is,” he finally said.

“Do you see the end?” she gasped, hopping and trying to look over his rather broad and too tall shoulder.

“It’s a pit of darkness,” he said. “So I suspect so.” In another moment, they had their answer. “I believe it’s another revolving door.”

“Open it,” she said eagerly. “Let’s go through.”

He glanced over his shoulder and caught her eye. “Be prepared to run, Gwen. If I say the word, I want you to turn on your heel and run as fast as your legs will take you.” He paused until she nodded. “Good. Now stand back.”

She backed up two paces and held her candle high.

“Here we go,” he muttered as he pushed on the door.

Light spilled around them as the revolving door slowly spun. Robert stepped through, still blocking the exit, as he quickly checked left and right. Finally he stood aside and motioned her through.

She emerged into a large room, though somewhat barren and undecorated. It held a simple, long wooden table, with at least a dozen well-used chairs on each side of it. Two moderately better chairs sat at each end. There were two exits, though both doors were closed, and a small fireplace was located in the corner, unused.

Because there were no windows, she couldn’t even use the grounds to orient herself. “I don’t recognize this place,” she said, gazing around at it.

“You wouldn’t,” Robert said. “It’s the servant’s hall.”

“The servant’s hall,” she echoed, lifting her candle. Then her eyes widened. “Oh heavens. Servants?” When she looked at him, her brows had arched high. “Parks is–”

“Beyond reproach,” Robert declared. “The man has been serving the Sheraton family for his entire adult life. Also, I might remind you, he’s the only one who stayed.”

“Well that’s just it, isn’t it?” she said. “He’s the only one here besides us.”

“And your ghosts,” he reminded her, and then grimaced. He paused and took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s have something to eat. I’ll think better when my stomach isn’t hollow.”

Though she wasn’t convinced at the sudden change in conversation, she thought better of pressing her point. “I’m famished,” she said, and looked at both exits. “Which way are the kitchens?”