AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My new self-respect satisfied me, and I styled my hair as usual, with a soft finger wave that touched the crest of my cheek, and a sensible tuck of the remaining curls into a twisted bun at the base of my neck. When no one came to fetch me to breakfast, I assumed it meant Ms. Dillard considered me capable enough to find my way. She was right; in the daylight it was relatively easy to find the kitchen again, which sat adjacent to the dining room. The mahogany double doors stood open and inviting, the scent of warm bread and fresh coffee tickling my nose. Several steps from the entrance, my confidence faltered. I patted my hair again with dread and anticipation warring in me as I stood there procrastinating, wondering if the professor would mention the previous night or if we’d both stay silent and try to forget it had ever happened.
Prepared for battle, I stepped into the dining room.
There was no one there.
Several covered dishes and a place setting of only one were arranged on the formidable dining table, its seating meant for twelve. There was no indication anyone else would be joining me, so I let my anxious breath go and appreciated my luck. I’d come too late to dine with the professor.
I found eggs, oatmeal, ramekins of nutmeg and cinnamon, a mountain of toast, a pat of fresh butter, and a little bowl of cranberry preserves. Thankful for no eyes watching, I tucked into the food, ravenous, and filled myself painfully full. The coffee in the pot proved to be strong and bitter. There was cream, but I drank it black, steeling myself for the day.
The dining room was as opulent as the rest of the house, two crystal chandeliers hanging heavily over the cherrywood table, glinting in the pleasant sunlight that streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue on the marbled green mantel and the brass sideboards. A statue of two women, plaiting their hair with flowers, watched from their spot in the corner by the door, unimpressed with me.
The door to the kitchen creaked, and I turned gladly to greet whoever had entered, only to find I was still alone. I stood, taking several dishes in hand and carrying them to the door, which I pushed cautiously open to peek inside.
“Hello in there! Do you need any help?” I called.
My words echoed around the cavernous space like unanswered prayers. There was no one. Everything had been tidied, no evidence of a breakfast cooked. I took my plates to the sink, at a loss. Beeswax shone on the recently sealed wood counters, and the copper sink and stove were bright as new pennies. There was a large ice box, its drip pan dry. I spent the next half hour cleaning breakfast away, washing the dishes but leaving them on the counter, unsure about their place. I planned to learn. I couldn’t continue to ask Ms. Dillard and Felicity to cater to me when there was so much other work to be done. At any rate, I was also staff and fully capable of holding my own.
Assuming I would be needed for work, I left for the library, but when I arrived, the room was dark, the curtains drawn, and the fire unlit. The uninviting atmosphere was a great disappointment, but small butterflies flitted in my stomach as I realized now was the perfect opportunity to explore. I could see where I stepped and who was nearby, easily avoiding being surprised by wolfish, unearthly men.
I blushed but lost no resolve. If anyone had been interested in keeping me from poking around, they wouldn’t have all disappeared.
I first approached the room directly next to the library. It was locked. I considered the likelihood that most doors would be. However, the next one I tried opened, hinges chirping like a startled bird. Judging by the giant piano, half draped in a sheet, it had been a music parlor. Everything else was equally dressed in dusty gray shrouds like so many dead. The following several rooms were unlocked, but uninteresting, either empty or filled with items hidden beneath the ghostly covers.
At last, I discovered a tiny room, the bright light of its east-facing windows showcasing airy woods and more floral prints similar to the ones in my accommodations. There were no dust sheets, and everything was clean, ready to be used. A delicate writing desk had pride of place, and anyone who sat there could view a garden labyrinth, its high walls brown and thorny with dormant rosebushes. This was a lady’s office. Everything here was frail, easily stained. The severe elegance of this place didn’t invite guests but repelled them.
Don’t linger here, it admonished,don’t rest.
Had it belonged to Mrs. Hughes?
I was curious about the former lady of the house who had brought to ruin a once-flourishing estate with her death. The thoughts of her turned my mind to her widower, and I indulged in a frustrated breath, shaking off the strange sensation the room inspired in me. I abandoned the office and turned into another passageway, identical to the one I’d met the professor in. Palladian windows lined one side and I peered out, searching for a discerning feature in the landscape I could recall if I ever got lost again. There, among the bare trees and naked bushes, was a stone building, its chimney billowing a hearty, cheerful smoke—the groundskeeper’s house.
I pressed it like a flower in the pages of my memory.
The rest of my exploration revealed more of what I’d seen yesterday during the short trek with Ms. Dillard. Professor Hughes’s mother had instilled in the very bones of Willowfield a personality of magic, an otherworldly presence that would have inspired anyone’s sense of heart and imagination if it had not been plagued with dust and the signs of neglect. Humidity had bloated oil paintings and mildewed the runners, exuding a musty, wet smell that reminded me of an icy bog. Where there were no likenesses of the fae, there were floral motifs: baby’s breath wallpaper, tulip moldings, rosette rugs. They were an homage to the business that had kept the Hughes family afloat.
I left the windowed hall, wandering an endless array of inner corridors that circled back on themselves. It was dimmer in this part of the house with no natural light to shine upon the faded runners except what seeped through an occasional stained glass window and from under the many doors. After trying a few handles, all locked, I found myself at the foot of a narrow servants’ stairwell leading to the third floor.
I stared up the narrow steps, weighing the worth of veering farther off path, into a part of the house that had been expressly forbidden. Yet there was something about this stairwell, something pulling. The door at the top was firmly shut and surely must have been locked. It couldn’t hurt to check. I placed a foot on the first step to ascend.
“Felicity!” Ms. Dillard bellowed, unseen but coming my direction. “Felicity, where in heaven’s name are you? The fire in the professor’s chamber hasn’t been laid!”
I froze to the spot and held my breath, willing myself to disappear. I reached for reason to waylay the panic rising in my breast. It was only the housekeeper. I’d tell her I’d been looking for her. She would direct me out of this maze with the condescension of someone who’d known this would happen, and no one would strike me or lock me in a wardrobe because I was an adult and my mother was dead.
I turned tail, a coward in the face of childhood memories, and ran.
“Felicity?” Ms. Dillard’s voice faded away.
By some great miracle, after only two blind turns, I emerged at the top of the grand staircase I’d tripped down yesterday. I knew exactly how to get back to my room from the main hall so down I went, skipping over jagged marble and exposed board, ready to plummet to my death rather than face that sour woman. I made it to the level floor, my life still attached to me, traversing the familiar territory with ecstatic anxiety, finally slipping into my room and shutting the door, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
Making it back was such a relief to my nerves I began to giggle, resting my forehead against the doorframe, letting laughter ease me. I’d foolishly behaved like a child caught in mischief. I took a deep, anchoring breath through my nose, then lost control and giggled again. I should be glad I’d roamed. The most important thing I’d learned was that the house was dark in many places, empty and sad, but there was nothing untoward, only lonely rooms with no one to love them. A sense of longing sobered me.
“Miss?” squeaked a meek voice.
I screeched and flung myself around, plastering my back against the wall.
Felicity screamed in return, her blue eyes wide and disturbed.
She’d been laying the fire when I rushed in, crazed and snickering to myself at the door.
