Chapter 4
Morning pressed against her closed eyelids. When she blinked open her eyes, she was momentarily disoriented as she tried to recall where she was.
Next to the bed, the candles had burned down to a nub and were snuffed out. Across from her, a cheerful fire flickered in the hearth. She sat up, pushing her fingers through her tangled hair as she tipped her head to the side in wonder.
Perhaps Gabriel had come into the room earlier that morning to light the fire. She never heard him if he did. She smiled, happy to have the warmth permeating the room.
Just as she suspected, everything looked better in the light of day. Brighter. Warmer. Happier. She shoved aside the blankets and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Her shoes were still where she left them. Her dress a crumpled heap on the floor.
A chuckle rose through her at her silly, paranoid behavior. Her imagination ran wild with thoughts of apparitions. It was nothing more than nerves in her new home.
She dressed quickly, preferring to leave her hair down but pulling it back at the nape and tying with a ribbon. After she slipped on her shoes, she headed out of her room and paused in the hallway to take it in.
The wood-paneled walls were lined with old portraits.
Likely of the Ravenwood line. People she didn’t know.
Above the portraits, a row of dust-smudged windows.
There were two spots that were empty—the portraits were removed, leaving a faint faded outline.
Filtered morning light pressed against the grime, trying hard to brighten the otherwise dull corridor.
A well-worn runner went the length of the hall and down the stairs, which, she thought, was strange.
She recalled hearing Gabriel’s click-click of his shoes as he led her to her room.
Behind her, there was a row of closed doors leading to the west wing. Bedrooms, no doubt. She idly wondered just how many bedrooms were in this house. And which one belonged to Gabriel.
As soon as the thought came to her mind, she shoved it away. It would not do to think about where the strange caretaker’s bedroom was in relation to hers. With his cool demeanor toward her, it was clear he was not happy about her sudden arrival.
She headed down the stairs, her fingers lightly trailing the wood balustrade intricately carved with vines. The runner, she noticed, continued from the top of the stairs to the bottom. When she stepped off the last tread, she paused, glanced back up as a strange sensation pounded through her.
Last night, there was no carpet runner.
Or perhaps she didn’t recall since she was tired.
At any rate, the old rug needed to be replaced. She made a mental note of that as she continued on her way to the dining room.
The sound of piano music, faint and lilting, stopped her. She turned, peering into the silent, dark parlor where the baby grand remained untouched. The lid closed. The bench shoved under it.
She started to turn away but then heard it again. Quiet notes. Delicate and deliberate echoing through the hush of the foyer. As though someone played to a great crescendo. The music mournful and oddly familiar.
Curious, and before she made the conscious decision, she turned toward the sound and walked into the parlor.
The music stopped.
The ceiling rose high above. On one end, the baby grand piano in front of a pair of windows draped in heavy velvet to block out the sun.
Her heart thudded as she stepped into the room, the scent of rosewood and lilacs teasing her nose.
Once beautiful, the glory of the room had faded.
Opposite the piano, a walnut carved settee and matching chairs in a rich garnet velvet.
A tarnished silver tray rested atop a lace-covered table in the corner.
There were no other decorations. No pictures.
No vases. No bric-à-brac. Even the gilded mirrors lining the wall, once vibrant, had lost their sheen.
Another look at the piano to see the keyboard cover was closed.
She could not have heard the music, could she?
“Miss Ravenwood, can I help you?”
Gabriel’s voice startled her. She whirled to see him standing in the doorway as her heart jolted. He stood stiffly, his dark eyes looking at her with wariness.
“I-I thought…” Then she clamped her mouth closed, pressing her lips together. “No, thank you.”
She hurried from the parlor, her skirts whispering around her ankles as she crossed the foyer and slipped into the dining room. Gabriel followed, his steps light but ever-present, like a shadow trailing just behind.
The room greeted her with cool formality.
A long mahogany table dominated the space, polished to a dull gleam and flanked by ten high-backed chairs, their legs curved like talons and seats upholstered in worn burgundy brocade.
The fabric, though faded in places, still bore the elegance of another age.
Heavy damask curtains framed tall windows that let in a slant of gray morning light, dust motes dancing like ash in the air. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, its pendants silent and still.
To one side, a rosewood sideboard displayed an unused tea service and a line of delicate china dishes—bone white with gilded edges—each set precisely as though awaiting a gathering long past. The silver gleamed, polished but untouched.
At the far end of the table, a modest breakfast was laid out. A covered dish of toast still warm, a stack of flaky scones wrapped in linen, and a cut-glass bowl of dark red jam glinting like garnet in the light.
The food looked inviting. The room did not.
Victoria hesitated, one hand lightly grazing the back of a chair. Though her uncle sat at the table reading his paper, the silence felt too thick for the early hour. As though the room was waiting for someone to fill its emptiness again and wasn’t sure yet how it felt about her.
When she entered, he glanced up and gave her a warm smile in greeting.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
Fatigue still pounded through her as she took the chair opposite him. Gabriel kept to the fringes of the room, waiting for her to make a request.
Discomfort shifted through her with his constant presence.
“Well enough,” she replied. “You?”
“My room was delightful.” He folded the newspaper and set it aside, then lifted the napkin to his mouth in a practiced motion. “Well, my dear. What do you propose we do with the day? You are mistress now. Time to make Ravenfell yours.”
Gabriel was at her side then, holding a teapot. The scent of bergamot wafted to her nose. “Tea?”
She nodded as she answered her uncle. “We, uncle? Are you planning to stay then?”
Her uncle’s gaze slid to Gabriel as he poured the tea, then straightened. “I thought I might for another day or so.”
Uncle Hubert was wary of Gabriel. He wasn’t ready to leave her alone with him. She dropped a lump of sugar in her cup and stirred.
“I suppose a tour would be wise. I don’t remember much of the place and I ought to know what shape it’s truly in.”
Gabriel offered her the plate of scones still wrapped in linen. She waved it off.
“A tour is a grand idea,” Uncle Hubert said, far too cheerful for the cheerless room.
“I shall be glad to guide you, Miss Ravenwood,” Gabriel said in a quiet voice. Then, after the faintest pause, added, “And you, too, Mr. Pembroke.”
She took a sip of tea, then replaced the cup and rose. “Shall we go now, then?”
Gabriel lifted a dark brow, his voice even. “Now, miss?”
“Why wait? I’ve quite lost my appetite.” In fact, the smell of the meager breakfast made her already knotted stomach queasy. “I also would like to meet any other staff members who live here.”
“Other staff members, miss?” He sounded quite confused.
“Yes. I’d like to thank whoever laid the fire in my hearth this morning. Unless that was you?”
He froze, his expression still and flat. “Not me, miss. And there are no other staff members in residence.”
Victoria blinked.
A ripple of unease crawled over her skin, but she forced a small, dismissive smile. “Well, perhaps I was mistaken. It was warm when I woke, that’s all.”
But even as she said it, her thoughts tangled. She hadn’t imagined the faint glow in the hearth or the comforting crackle of dying embers. And yet Gabriel’s expression remained unreadable.
Her grip firmed on the chair’s edge.
Perhaps it was lit the night before. Perhaps the stone simply held the heat. Perhaps—
No. She wasn’t mistaken, nor would she let shadows chase her mind so soon. Not on her first day.
“Shall we begin?” With deliberate steps, she headed toward the dining room doorway.
Uncle Hubert was on his feet at once, folding the newspaper under one arm and trailing her out. His movements were brisk, but there was something in the way he glanced at Gabriel. A flicker of suspicion.
Behind them, Gabriel followed without a word.
A sort of uneasiness pierced the room as they crossed the threshold. Uneasiness between the three of them.
Once she was out of the dining room, Gabriel passed her.
Her uncle moved to walk next to her. Victoria’s shoes whispered over the floor as they headed back into the foyer.
Her eyes flicked instinctively toward the grand staircase, and then upward where the chandeliers overhead stirred ever so slightly, though no draft touched her skin.
That prickling sensation was back, creeping up her spine. But she ignored it and kept moving, following Gabriel up the stairs.
“I suggest we begin in the east wing,” Gabriel said at last, his voice soft but certain.
“How about the west wing?” she suggested, thinking of the row of closed doors.
“The east is a much better place to start, through the west does hold most of the older rooms. Those still untouched.”
“Untouched?” she asked.
He gave the faintest nod. “Some haven’t been opened in years.”
Uncle Hubert cleared his throat. “And why is that, Mr. Allward?”
Gabriel’s gaze didn’t waver. “Some doors are better left closed, sir.”
A heavy silence settled around them. Then Victoria turned away and pressed forward.
“Let’s open them anyway,” she said.
Apprehension shifted through his eyes. “But the east wing—”
“I insist,” she said with a forced smile.
“As you wish, miss.”
At the top of the stairs, they turned right instead of left like they had the night before.
They headed down a long, dimly lit corridor where it seemed the candles in the sconces were unable to push back the shadows creeping along the walls.
There were no windows here, either. Nothing to give any sort of light to press back the gloom.
Victoria didn’t want to admit how dreadful this wing felt. Not only dreadful, but oppressive. As though some great tragedy had played out here. A faint whisper tickled her ear, and she thought, for a moment, it was a woman’s voice.
Somehow, she managed to not react. Instead, she clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides, that sickly feeling creeping up to her throat and lodging there. Gabriel paused midway and turned to face them. The moment he did, the ominous presence she sensed was chased away.
“This is the west wing. Nothing but dusty bedrooms that haven’t been used in years.” He motioned to the closed doors on either side of the hall.
“I’d like to see them,” she insisted, though she hadn’t a clue why.
Again, he gave her that arched brow look. “All of them?”
“Yes, if you please.”
With a curt nod, Gabriel reached for the door nearest him to his right. He pushed open the door, letting it thunk back against the wall into the room. No light spilled out.
Why she expected that, she did not know. She expelled a shaky breath as she approached the open threshold and paused there to peer inside.
A cold hearth sat unused and dark. Heavy drapes blocked out the one window. The bed was covered with a frilly pale coverlet. Across from it, a dressing table and armoire. The hardwood floor creaked as she took a step inside. There was no rug here to muffle the sound. The air was colder here.
She looked around and slowly realized this was a child’s room.
She had never seen this room before. Of that, she was certain. Why did the air feel so heavy?
Victoria stepped back into the hall, backing out of the room. Her uncle and Gabriel remained where they were. Neither had spoken. When she was back in the hall, Gabriel reached for the knob and pulled the door shut, sealing it in silence once more.
“Shall we continue?” he asked.
One glance down the shadowed hallway had her shaking her head. “That’s enough for now, I should think. Perhaps after luncheon we can look at the ledgers.” She hooked her arm with her uncle’s. “How about we take a stroll outside, uncle? I feel as though I need a bit of fresh air.”
“Grand idea, my dear.”
He didn’t argue the point as he turned her away from Gabriel and headed for the stairs.