Page 14 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
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?”
