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Voices I didn’t recognize.
“...this is my house! You damned, impudent little—”
“You can’t talk to me like that anymore, Barrington. And it’s not your house anymore, either.”
“It’s Lord Barrington. Lord. That puts me about a hundred rungs further up the social ladder than you, stable boy. Why, I ought to wring your disloyal little neck.”
“I’m not just a stable boy any longer. I’m far more—”
“Out of my way. I’m taking what’s mine.”
Sudden footsteps coming closer made me duck back inside the room. The last thing I needed was to be caught half naked wandering around a strange house by strange men I certainly didn’t recognize.
Where the bloody hell was Vasile, and who actually owned this house? Was I an intruder?
“No, you will not go in there. I’m under strict instructions to—”
“Where is he? Is he here? He swindled me out of my own home and I’ve come to settle this once and for all.”
“He’ll be back soon and—”
“Well, then, I’ll just take back what’s mine.”
The footsteps drew closer to the door and I glanced around, wishing Vasile was here. Wishing at least somebody I recognized was here.
Past the fireplace, there was a tall wardrobe that looked easily big enough for me to squeeze into, and I darted that way. As I did, a few trinkets from the mantelpiece fell with a crash, and a piece of paper floated down into the fire, instantly starting to crinkle on the edges as the flames licked at it. If I had more time, I would have stopped to poke it out with the metal poker, but instead I ignored it, darted for the wardrobe and slipped inside.
“What was that noise, boy? Who’s in there?”
“Nobody, Lord Barrington, I assure you. We’ve had some problems with mice—”
The door clicked open and somebody stepped inside. I watched them through the tiny gap between the doors of the wardrobe. There was a man dressed in overly opulent finery, like he was trying to show off, and another that was dressed plainly but had a much kinder face.
“See, my lord, nothing at all,” the kinder looking one said.
“Then why, pray tell, is there a fire burning in the grate? Hmmm?”
“I was asked to warm the room.”
“Hmmm.” I watched as he looked around with narrow eyes and I held my breath.
“You don’t own anything here. You lost the manor to Mr. Greengallow. You know that to be true and all its contents—”
“Nonsense. I may have lost my house to him, but I never included its contents.”
The kinder looking one let out an exasperated huff. “Please leave, or I’ll be forced to—”
“Forced to what, boy? Usher me out? Look at you, you’re nothing.”
“Lord, you should return when Mr. Greengallow is here. His family will not take this sort of disrespect lightly. You are aware of his family…”
The veiled threat seemed to make the man both angry and thoughtful at the same time. After a long pause, he spun back towards the door and stomped from the room.
“I will not take back what is mine today, but I will show Mr. Greengallow I was here,” he bellowed as he disappeared down the hall with the younger man following.
“That’s not the way out!”
“I know the way around my own house. I’m going to leave a message for Mr. Greengallow…”
I waited for what felt like two or three hours inside the wardrobe. It could have been more, it could have been less, but I didn’t dare come out. I sat down on the empty floor, surrounded by nothing but wooden walls, and wondered whether any of this house legitimately belonged to Vasile.
After all, what did I really know about him? Maybe this wasn’t his manor after all.
Either way, I decided, there was no point staying in the wardrobe any longer. No matter how long I’d been in there, Vasile had been gone for hours and didn’t seem to care one bit about my welfare.
I was hungry, and I needed to get dressed.
Slipping from the wardrobe, I padded across the room. The fire was burning low in the fireplace now, and whatever the piece of paper was it was long gone. I put on my nightdress, tying the ripped fabric in the center as best I could, then poked my head out of the door.
“Hello?” I looked up and down the corridor, and stopped to listen, but there was nothing. “Hello? Is anybody there?”
No answer. Nothing. Not a sound.
Setting out with stomach grumbling, I found the kitchens and larder easily. The kitchen and pantry were in utter disarray. Crocks were broken on the floor, sacks of sugar and flour spilled everywhere. The food that had been there lay in ruins all over the kitchen. Apparently, this was the message Lord Barrington meant to leave for whichever Mr. Greengallow he’d been talking about. Whichever one of them had taken this place from him.
