Page 18 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
He’ll want to see the ledgers.You cannot allow that.
“Go away,” Gabriel snapped.
The scent drifted off with a chuckle.Then everything returned to normal.
Gabriel remained at the base of the stairs, rooted in place.The only sound was the steady tick of the grandfather clock and then, faintly, the tinkling of piano keys echoing from the parlor.Three soft notes, then silence.
Her way of signaling she was leaving.For now.
She would return.She always did.
He sighed.As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.Hubert Pembroke would want to see the ledgers.
His first order of business was to do what he could to conceal the truth.
He hurried from the foyer to the study tucked at the end of the corridor in the east wing on the first floor.He pushed open the dark-stained oak door and entered, preferring to leave the lamps unlit and use the faint light from the window instead.
He knew where he was headed and, anyway, the gloom suited him.
Inside, the stale, unused room smelled of old parchment, leather bindings, and the mineral oil used to polish the wood desk.Beneath that, though, the lingering scent of wood smoke and something older like tobacco permeated in the wainscoting.Dust settled into the velvet curtains on the window.
Bookcases lined the walls from floor to ceiling, crammed full of old books that were in every shape and binding.Some with cracked leather covers.Others with fraying cloth.Most were ledgers, estate records, and obscure volumes on local law and plant lore.A narrow ladder rested against one shelf, though Gabriel didn’t need to use it.He’d memorized the layout of this room.
The mahogany desk stood before the cold, silent hearth.A monstrosity that once hosted the lord of the manor.Though the wood had been polished years ago, the scent remained despite its dull sheen.One corner was cluttered with sealing wax, quills, stacks of parchment that were unanswered letters and invitations from ages past.As though the former owner left them there with the intention of returning and answering them but never had.
The ledgers were locked inside the cabinet to the left of the desk.Not all of them.Onlythose.The ones that whispered secrets no one need hear.
As Gabriel knelt before the cabinet, a gust of cold brushed the back of his neck.The shadows in the corners shifted.
Lenore.
He reached for the key in his pocket, the one he kept on him at all times.With shaking fingers, he stuck it in the lock.Or tried.He missed once, twice, until he finally managed to slide it inside and twist.
Nevermore.
Her lilting voice brushed his ear, sending cold tingles erupting across his skin.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice hard and cold in warning.
Though what warning he could give her, he didn’t know.
He pulled open the cabinet door and was greeted with dust and cobwebs.No one had been in this cabinet for years.Not since he’d hidden these away never to be seen again.Not since he’d tucked away the last pieces of Abner Ravenwood’s investigation.Gabriel had hidden the journal deep inside, locked away with the hope it would never be found.
Now, with the looming threat of Hubert Pembroke and his banker’s eye, he had to move the ledgers before they were discovered, before he was forced to show them everything.
These were the real ones.Not the tidy duplicate residing in the uppermost drawer of the desk.The one meant for review by a sharp-eyed banker.As he reached inside, his hand brushed over the leather-bound journal, still tied.He pushed it aside and grabbed the first ledger.This one was bound in cracked, blackened leather.He lifted it with care.Mold and mildew clung to the damp cover from being too long in the dark.
Lenore was stirring again.
His first intent was to get them out, all of them.He’d hide them somewhere else.The priest hole beneath the wine cellar, perhaps.Or the root cellar where no rat dared scurry.He pulled out the second.As he reached for the final one, the heaviest one with his sins written there, he noticed a corner sticking out.As though the page had been disturbed by someone or something.
With a shaking hand, he opened it to that page and froze.His throat tightened.
Fresh ink was penned in the center.Written there was one familiar name.
Victoria Ravenwood
With trembling fingers, he closed it with a muffled snap.His stomach dropped.
