Page 11 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
“Oh.”She said the word on a breath.“I have no other things.”
Surprise etched through him.He focused on the other end of the hall, the weight of her one bag suddenly heavy in his hand.She only had the one?Nothing more?He slid her a sideways glance wondering what happened to her.Wondering why she had the one bag.He refrained from asking, for he knew it wasn’t his place to pry.
So, he said nothing as he picked up the pace to her room, his polished shoes making a clip-clip sound on the wood planks.
At the door, he paused for her to catch up.When she was close—too close for his comfort—he turned the knob and swung it open.He waited for her to step inside first, but she didn’t.She hesitated in the threshold, peering inside the room with her hands tightly clenching the handle of her reticule.
“This is…my room?”Her voice was soft, full of wonder tinged with apprehension.
“Yes,” he said his voice succinct.
When she did not move into the room, he stepped inside and placed her bag on the chair nearest the bed.
Finally, she took a step and gazed around with wide-eyed innocence that sent a sharp pang through his chest.Why did she have to look at it like that?Like the world was still full of beauty?Like this room was a gift?
Of course, she did.She likely hadn’t seen one like it before.
It was palatial by most standards.The far wall held towering windows covered by thick brocade draperies that blocked the sun when they were pulled together.The heavy drapes were drawn aside, leaving only gossamer sheers to veil the tall windows, now tinted with dusk.In the morning, sunlight would spill through the gauze and slash across the hardwood floor and its thick, jewel-toned rug.Before the windows, a balloon-backed chair and a fainting couch in muted embossed damask sat in a quiet arrangement.
A fireplace, now dormant, was on the wall across from the large four-poster bed draped in velvet curtains.The marble mantle was bare.No portraits, no keepsakes.Just emptiness where memories should have been.
Next to the bed, on either side, a mahogany side table.A brass candelabra on each dulled by age.And finally, a mahogany armoire, ornately carved, on the same wall as the hearth.
Gabriel stood beyond the doorway, uneasy with how alive the room felt now that she was in it.Ravenfell had not been lived in for a long, long time.And yet, he feared it might remember how.
When she’d taken in the full expanse of the room, she turned to him.A blush crept into her cheeks as she caught his gaze still fixed on her.He hadn’t looked away once.He should have looked away.It would’ve been polite.Safer.But he couldn’t.
“I hope you find it to your liking,” he said at last.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’m glad.If you need anything, use the bellpull.”
He backed out of the room as she nodded.With his hand on the knob, he gave her one last glance before stepping out and closing the door.He paused outside her room for a long moment and waited.Listening.The silence pressed in.The only sound was that of his labored breathing and the roar of his pulse in his ears.
He had to step away.He had to return to his own space.
As he turned for the stairs, he noticed it.Fog curled low through the corridor like smoke from an unseen fire.The house was stirring.
When the door shut behind Gabriel, Victoria remained rooted in place in the middle of the room.She had never been in something so grand.She didn’t recognize the space and couldn’t even recall where her childhood room was.As though the house had shifted in her absence.
Gabriel’s innocent question about the rest of her trunks conjured unwanted, raw memories to surface.The fire.The smoke.Her parents.Gone.Everything she owned burned with them.Life as she knew it, gone up in flames.
The only clothes she managed to bring with her were the ones packed in the case.A few gowns—one of those her mourning gown.No hats to speak of.A pair of shoes and gloves, which she wore.Though she doubted she’d need ball gowns or any other finery here in the isolated country.
It wasn’t as though she’d have a season, like she’d hoped.
A chill permeated the room.She clutched her elbows and eyed the hearth, blackened from use.No fire resided there now.She should have asked Gabriel to start one before he left.
No matter.
At the armoire, she pulled open the door.Inside, on the top shelf, an extra blanket.Nothing else.It smelled faintly of dust, old wood, and non-use.Unpacking and hanging her gowns seemed rather ludicrous, so she left them for now and moved to the darkened windows.
Pushing aside the gossamer curtain, she peered out.Full on darkness pressed against the window panes.The full moon overhead cast a blue-white illumination over the perfect lawn, making it glisten.Beyond that, nothing but shadows and shapes.
She heaved a sigh as she let the curtain fall back into place.
“Well, then,” she murmured.“I suppose this is home now, isn’t it?”
