Page 33 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
Her heart rose to her throat as she stared at the letter and read it again and again.
What did it all mean?Who was Lenore Blackmore?And why was her father investigating her?
More questions she was unable to answer.Mysteries she couldn't solve.Uncle Hubert told her that her parents traveled because of her father.Because he was a dignitary.
And the solicitor, Mr.Williams, mentioned the estate was inherited by her father when his father died.And now it passed to her.But did her grandfather know there was something sinister about the estate?
It seemed her father knew there was something going on here since he was searching for answers about Lenore Blackmore.
She replaced the letter and thought about the west wing.Perhaps she would find answers there.
A thorough search of the desk revealed nothing.The locked cabinet gave her pause.She’d have to ask Gabriel for the key to see what was in it.
Or, better yet, see if the key was somewhere in his room.
While he was occupied outside, it was a good time to search his room.
She left behind the study and headed up the stairs, down the long hallway past her room to his at the end.His door was ajar.She hesitated reaching for the knob, but she heard no movement on the other side of the door, so she pushed it open with a creak.
His room was tidy and in perfect order.It was dust and cobweb free.As though this was the only room he gave proper attention.The bed was made, the blankets pulled up and tucked neatly under the pillows, the creases sharp.Across from the bed, the wardrobe.Beyond that, a tall dressing table that looked as though it might have belonged to a woman.
Victoria took a tentative step inside.Heavy draperies covered the window much like in her room.In front of the window, a tufted-back loveseat in a garnet brocade.Next to it, a low round table with a candelabra.
A cursory glance of the bedside table did not produce any type of key.She was hesitant to go through the drawers.That seemed a little too invasive.She took a turn about the room one last time and then started for the door.
As she passed by the bed, something sticking out from under it caught her eye.She paused, peering down at it trying to make sense of what it was.It looked like the corner of a book.
She knelt and reached for it, sliding it out from under the bed.
It was a large book, the same size as the financial ledger, with an aged black leather cover.She recalled that day she found Gabriel in the study how he seemed nervous.Old estate records, he’d called it.He’d hurried past her out of the study with the book.
Victoria stared down at it now, wondering if she dare open it.He said he was relocating them because the mildew was getting to the pages.Why would he store them under his bed?
Unless it was something he didn’t want her to see.
Curious, she opened the cover.The first page was blank.Yellowed with age.
As she flipped the page, there was really nothing of note.Lists of things that did, in fact, seem like an inventory.Items for the larder.Supplies for the garden.
Halfway through the book, she stopped cold.
The first entry was written in an old-fashioned hand.The ink faded but still legible.
Her cries never stop.The girl’s room remains untouched.I cannot bear to close the room and seal it in forever darkness.I failed them both.For that, I remain bound to this place.Forevermore.
Her mouth went dry.The second entry followed on the next page.
The child wandered the west wing again.I tried to remain hidden in the shadows, but she saw me.She wasn’t frightened of me.She clutched her doll and looked up at me with bright eyes that reminded me so much of the girl I lost.“Are you the sad man?”she asked.Words were frozen.I nodded.She smiled and something deep inside me cracked.She is like her mother.Light and bright and full of life.The house watches her now.
The next entry dated days later.
The truth is hidden within the pages.The price was paid for that which could not be undone.Abner knew.He tried to buy more time, but the debt was never repaid.
What price?What truth?She read on.Another entry that looked to be written recently.The ink was not faded.
The house knows her now.It will not let her go.It remembers the Ravenwood blood.It remembers the child who saw the man in the shadows and did not flinch.I wanted to leave—I couldn’t leave.And so, I stayed.Waiting.And now, she has returned.
A breath shuddered out of her as she flipped the page.Ice pricked her nape.
