The House of Beardsley

Chapter Thirty-six

If I was alone, I knew I would've been scared, but Tobias held his face up the whole time, and he knew what he was doing. After all, he took the lead when we saw Humpty Dumpty, and on a few other trips.

Tobias grabbed the brass handle at the door, carved with a creature's gaping mouth—I wondered why nobles like gargoyles and other intimidating monsters around their house so much—and knocked loudly three times. I stood by his side with my knees threatening to crumble before someone opened the door.

It was a young maid, maybe younger than me—Beth's age?—dressed all in black, with an apron tied around her collar and waist.

"For whom are you looking for?" she asked, voice brisk and also with a familiar accent. She didn't even try to hide how much she didn't want to see us. I looked at Tobias, who replied,

"Lady Rachel Mondeschein."

"There is no one of such name there," the young maid replied quickly, too quickly, that I knew it was an automatic response.

"Tell her it's a Beardsley."

"I told you, there's no one by that name—"

"Then I suppose she doesn't know an Miss Elizabeth Clarke, either?"

"Wait, Master Tobias!" I looked at Tobias, but his face told me he was set on it no matter what. I looked back at the maid. Her brows were furrowed, and she had lost her composure.

"Miss—Miss Elizabeth Clarke? Where is she?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. She sent a message for Lady Rachel Mondeschein, but I suppose we got the wrong house," Tobias said, and then tipped his hat. As he got ready to turn, the maid shouted.

"Wait!" The maid opened the door, although reluctantly. "Come in."

Unstirred by the suddenly different treatment, Tobias walked through the front door with his back perfectly straight and I followed. Then we stopped in the hall.

Standing there was the lady from last time, only dressed more casually. She was in a richly-dyed brown dress with a black shawl draped around her, falling off her shoulders and resting on the bustle of her skirt. She looked at us with cold eyes, different from during the ball.

"I never dreamed that one day a Beardsley will be standing here, in the one house untainted by them."

Her words were piercing, and hurtful. I looked at Tobias's stoic face. If he felt anything, he didn't show it.

"Good evening, Lady Rachel Mondeschein," he said. She only frowned.

"Well, I suppose you don't want to dawdle either—let me show you to the parlor and we can have some of the tea you English love so much. Clara, prepare some Darjeeling."

The maid from before, Clara, nodded, and slipped away. Rachel led the way, and Tobias and I followed suit.

The parlor room was fit for a queen, with renaissance furniture carved out of marble and dark wood, mirrors and portraits with frames of ornamental gold, and sofas of vibrant red velvet.

We sat down stiffly, and faced Rachel.

"I am Tobias Beardsley." She turned to me.

"And that girl is—?" Tobias turned to me and gave a nod. I straightened my back.

"I am Shuyan, a maid in the house of Beardsley."

"Oh, I remember now. I asked you for Elizabeth's whereabouts that day." She didn't seem angry. I relaxed.

Tea was promptly made and brought up, and only when Clara left did Rachel speak again.

"Tell me, why is that girl working in your mansion as a maid?" She must've meant Beth. "Does she not know of the curse of the Beardsleys?"