Page 71 of The Seven Rings
Then she stepped back and picked up the pink dress. “This is Lisbeth’s. She wore it the night I saw her in the music room.”
Sonya brushed a hand down the skirt.
“When I first got here, and looked through some of the trunks, I thought all these wonderful clothes, packed away so beautifully. Historical. I thought I should donate them. A museum, a fancy costume shop or something, I don’t know. Now I can’t do it.”
“Because you saw her wearing it.”
“Yes. I can’t have someone wearing it to a party or for dressing up. Or just behind glass or whatever at a place that doesn’t know who she was. Who they were.
“Maybe it’s stupid.”
“I don’t think so. They’re not just clothes, they’re memories.”
“That’s how I feel, and they belong here. So once I go through them, I’ll pack them up beautifully again.”
“You could display some of them. You’ve got plenty of room.”
Intrigued, she brushed a hand over the dress again. “I could, and that’s a really good thought. Maybe see if I can pick one from each decade or era. Sort of a history through fashion. I’ll think about that. Meanwhile I just can’t pack this away. So I’ll hang it downstairs until I figure it out.”
They worked together another two hours, found small things tucked away. A single white glove with a pearl button, a set of onyx studs, a little box with a lock of dark hair tied in a blue ribbon.
Sonya opened the drawer of a secretaire.
“Trey, come see this! A wedding invitation. Agatha’s. Agatha and Owen. Still inside the double envelope. Look how beautiful. Gorgeous paper, elegant design. And the calligraphy. I couldn’t do better with the tools I have today.”
“Fancy,” he agreed. “I wonder who saved it, and why?”
“I don’t know, but it’s the first thing of hers—that we know for sure was hers—we’ve found. You know, we’re going to find something from all of them. Depending. I could get shadow boxes, one for each bride. And we’d have a way to display again, a way to represent each one.”
“Owen and I could build those.”
“That would make it even better. This box is full. I don’t want to overload it. Let’s take it down. I could use a Coke, and we should let these guys out for a while.”
“Got it. Let’s go, guys.”
Trey hefted the box, and Sonya glanced back as they started out.
“We’ve made good progress here, but there’s so much. We haven’t gotten to the ballroom, much less downstairs, but still, good progress.”
“You’re good at making a plan, then following the steps, so that’s what you’re doing. Where do you want the box?”
“The Gold Room, but that’s way down the list of the plan. I think the Quiet Place. We can use that space to sort through, organize, figure out how we’ll display what we’ve found.”
At the third floor, she paused briefly.
“She put a lot into that display yesterday. Collin never talked about her doing that sort of thing while he lived here?”
“No. Ghosts? Common knowledge, the whole lost bride thing, local lore. But I never sensed he was afraid here—the opposite, it was his home. And he never said anything about incidents like what you’ve had.
“But,” he continued as they started down the staircase, “Collin was a man.”
“Hey, looking for another fight?”
“No, so hold any feminist punch. Collin was a man, so she could consider herself mistress of the manor.”
Sonya stopped at the base of the stairs. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
