Chapter Twenty-Two
Lancelot hailed dawn’s arrival in his usual, unmelodious fashion.
Annie was already awake. Caught up in the aftermath of the previous day’s shocking events, she’d slept little, her dreams bizarre and nonsensical.
This new day now lay ahead. A day for finding answers and solving mysteries, if such things even existed.
Annie’s return to Ferndale the previous afternoon had raised a few questions.
Her disheveled state and the loss of her bonnet had drawn a comment from Hattie but, given the weather, had not required an explanation.
As for the frown, Annie hadn’t realized it was even there till Hattie mentioned it.
She replied that a headache had taken up residence while she was out on her walk.
Not a complete lie, as it happened. Hattie had immediately attributed it to the weather as well.
The headache had then conveniently lingered on into the evening, giving Annie an excuse for her genuine lack of hunger and a reason to go to bed early.
Surprisingly, Ruffy had gone with her, curling up at Annie’s feet as she settled down for the night.
He’d never done that before. Annie was simply glad he’d come home safely.
Lancelot cackled a second time. Ruffy stirred and jumped down to scratch at the door. Annie let him out and then snuggled back beneath her covers, where she intended to remain for the time being.
Soon, Hattie and Janet would be going to church, leaving Annie by herself for a couple of hours. On previous Sundays, Annie spent those hours in a variety of ways; her nose buried in a book, embroidering her sampler, or cleaning the brass and copper to name a few.
She would be doing none of those things this morning. This morning, as soon as Hattie and Janet left, Annie would begin searching for something. What that something was, or where it might be found, or if it even existed, was unknown.
A soft tap came to the door and it creaked open. “How are you feeling, pet?” Hattie asked. “Has the headache gone? Did you manage to sleep?”
“Yes, the headache has gone, and no, not much,” Annie replied. “I might have a bit of a lie-in this morning, actually.”
Hattie approached and touched the back of her hand to Annie’s forehead. “Hmm, there’s no sign of a fever, but yes, stay in bed if you’re not feeling well. You do look a bit peaky. Would you like some tea? Could you eat something? You hardly touched your food last night.”
“Some tea would be lovely, thank you. But nothing to eat at the moment. Later, perhaps.”
Hattie frowned. “Maybe I should stay home with you this morning.”
Annie flinched inwardly. “No, Hattie, there’s no need for that. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She managed a smile. “Truth is, I actually enjoy my Sunday morning solitude.”
Hattie’s brows lifted as she folded her arms. “Do you, now?”
“Yes.” She winced. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Hattie said. “And far be it from me to spoil your peace and quiet. I’ll be back in a while.”
Two welcome cups of tea later, Annie heard Hattie and Janet’s voices in the hallway, followed by the sound of the front door closing. Shortly after, she heard the clip-clop of Tulip’s hooves on the road, the sound fading into the distance.
Annie sat up, threw the bedcovers back, swung her legs over the side, and took a breath.
Apprehension soured her stomach as did a large helping of guilt.
She was about to pry, to disrespect the privacy of those she cared about, Janet in particular.
Part of her hoped she would find something to justify her actions.
Another part of her dreaded doing so. Heart heavy, she rose to wash and dress.
A while later, she entered the small study which contained Janet’s writing desk. She’d used the desk herself when writing letters to Archibald Mason, though not for a moment had she considered opening any of the desk drawers or poking around in the cubbyholes.
Even now, it wasn’t an easy undertaking. Seek and ye shall find, she reminded herself. Chewing on her lip, Annie bent to open the left side drawer, startling when the door to the study creaked open. She straightened and spun around.
“Oh, Ruffy,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
The dog whined and wagged his tail.
“I know, I know, I should not be doing this. I feel terrible about it. Please don’t tell tales.
” Annie turned back to the desk and pulled the drawer open.
As one might have expected, it contained a number of letters and papers, none of which appeared to be suspicious.
After closing that drawer, she searched the other, followed by the desk’s cubbyholes.
She found nothing but a ledger, a number of invoices and receipts, and a list of contacts and suppliers.
The entire, fruitless episode was beyond distasteful. Sick with guilt, Annie stepped back and considered where else she might accumulate more shame. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, her mind already wandering the upper rooms, including Janet’s bedroom and the attic.
The attic seemed to be the logical place to discover hidden secrets. Perhaps too logical. But searching such a space felt less abhorrent than searching Janet’s bedroom. Annie had never been up there, though she knew of the small wooden door that led to it.
With Ruffy still on her heels, Annie headed upstairs, pausing before the attic door for a moment before pulling it open. Ahead lay a narrow, half-turn, wooden staircase, dark and dismal. Ruffy parted with a whine. “I agree,” Annie said. “We need light.”
She went to her bedroom, lit her lantern, and returned, pausing once again at the foot of the stairs to gather her courage. “What say you, Ruffy?” she asked. “Will you be my escort?” The dog wagged his tail and backed up a step.
“Well, thank you for nothing,” she said. “That’s very reassuring.
Of course, the stairs creaked as she knew they would, and the lantern-light didn’t quite reach into the darker corners where Lord-knows-what lurked.
The staircase led to another narrow door, apparently the twin of the previous one.
Annie’s hand hovered momentarily over the door handle.
Then, gritting her teeth, she turned it and pushed the door open.
It, too, creaked. Annie paused on the threshold and held her lantern up, breath hissing through her teeth at the sight of cobwebs hanging from the rafters.
It was apparent no one had been up here for some time.
Lantern still held aloft, Annie moved forward a couple of steps, looking for anything that might merit investigation.
The space was not as cluttered as she’d imagined it to be.
There were a few items of furniture; several wooden chairs, a moth-eaten footstool, a couple of small tables, a traveling chest, a dilapidated armoire, and one blanket box.
The traveling chest was empty. Annie then went to the blanket box and lifted the lid, which resulted in releasing the smell of camphor and a dust cloud. Waving the dust aside, she peered into the box to see what looked like an old, embroidered quilt.
But nothing else.
It seemed clear there was little of value in this dark space. Coughing, Annie closed the lid, cast another quick glance around, and made her way back downstairs.
“Where to now, Ruffy?” she asked, turning the wick down on the lantern. There was, in truth, only one other likely place to search. The one Annie had prayed wouldn’t be necessary.
Janet’s bedroom.
Annie had been in the room before, briefly.
It had been a casual thing, random, a sharing of conversation that just happened to occur in that particular space.
Once again, Annie paused, her stomach churning as she regarded the bedroom door.
She felt like a thief, in this case stealing Janet’s privacy and trust. “God forgive me,” she muttered, as she opened the door.
It was a pleasant room. Quite large, but with a cozy atmosphere. Worn rugs on polished floors, oak beams, whitewashed walls, floral curtains. And, of course, Janet’s bed, neatly made with its embroidered bedspread and topped with a pale green, featherdown quilt.
Furniture in the room consisted of a simple chest of drawers, an oak armoire, a small bedside table, another table beneath the window, a bent-cane chair, and a washstand and mirror. Neat and tidy, nothing out of place.
Gritting her teeth, Annie first went to the armoire and opened the door.
Again, she breathed in the faint odor of camphor, this time sweetened with a touch of lavender.
All Janet’s clothing was in plain view, hanging from the rack or folded neatly on the shelves.
Annie then opened the drawer at the bottom of the closet.
In it was a lidless, satin-lined box containing a variety of lace gloves and fichus.
The dresser came next, each drawer opened and closed in fairly quick succession. Annie didn’t know what she was looking for, but it surely wasn’t a variety of woolen stockings or a selection of a lady’s undergarments.
She glanced around the room, her gaze coming to rest on the small table beneath the window. Draped to the floor with a fringed, gold velvet cloth, it brought to mind an altar. It had a few items on it; a delicate ceramic dish, a silver hairbrush and matching hand-mirror, and a tiny wooden box.
Annie approached and lifted the lid off the box.
It contained a single item. A brooch, edged in black enamel and inlaid with silver.
The center of the brooch was clear glass, protecting and displaying what Annie knew to be a woven sample of human hair.
It was a piece of mourning jewelry, the hair of a departed loved one.