Later that night, Lily lay wide awake in her new canopy bed, replaying the day's events in her mind.
She was certain Ian Hawke had something to hide.
And she still didn't know why he was co-heir.
At their first meeting, she was apprehensive due to his barely constrained hostility, but later he'd shown a softer side; a vulnerable one even. He also seemed to have a lot of control over Mike and Hannah. Were they afraid of him? No, she was reading too much between the lines. It was a strange new place—surreal even—and it would take time to adapt and get to know everyone.
Lily squeezed her eyes shut, trying once again to clear her mind. Sleep seemed out of reach. She'd been lying here for hours now, the glow of the moon flowing through the open drapes of the arched windows and suffusing the contours of the furniture. Though the blankets on her bed had been freshly laundered, there was an aura of dust and cobwebs and bats. The scent of polished wood and paraffin candles. Of course it was only the age of the place spooking her out. Eventually she'd get used to all the high ceilings and endless rooms.
After another ten minutes of tossing and turning, she climbed out of the bed and pulled on a housecoat and slippers.
She crossed the room toward the windows, hugging her arms around her waist for warmth. The room was chilly. She made a mental note to ask about heating and how to work the fireplace. When she reached the first window, she pulled aside the drape a little further and peered out into the night. Many of the windows in the hallways were made of leaded glass, blurring the view outside, but these windows and the windows in most of the bedrooms were clear. There was nothing much to see, other than the bronzed and dangling boughs of the willow trees.
She wanted to see the backyard.
Opening her bedroom door quietly, she stepped out into the hallway and looked in both directions. She would not be able to see anything from the floor-to-ceiling lancet windows, due to the leaded glass, but she'd learned on her tour that the bedroom at the end of the hall was unoccupied.
With soft steps, she reached the end of the hallway, relieved that the cricks in the floorboards weren't too noisy, and tried the knob of the door on the right, hoping it was unlocked. It moved inward with a creak and she froze, expecting a light to come on in Hannah's room, which was next to her own. Angie, Christopher and Mike's bedrooms were all located in this wing of the mansion as well. She hadn't finished the full tour of the estate though, and didn't know where Ian's quarters were. It dawned on her then that she also didn't know where her grandfather's room or rooms had been. What was behind the door Ian had stopped the tour at? If he'd been close to Auguste, perhaps he wasn't ready to see the elderly man's rooms again. But if that were the case, why not just say so? Why get all antagonistic and send Mike off?
Lily squinted in the darkness of the room, glad the windows were close to the door. She stepped up to the first overlooking the backyard, and opened the closed drapes.
Across the two acres of greensward, where the gargoyle path lay, the first three white orbs were aglow through the trees: like the lighted dots of a boat out to sea in the black of night.
Weren't they on a motion sensor?
A shift in the distant darkness caught her eye and she leaned in closer to the glass, bumping her nose. Was it just her imagination or did the white orb of the first gargoyle lift above the others as though floating? It was much higher than it had been a second ago. She blinked and it was low again.
Her mind must be playing tricks on her.
First chance she got, she would go out back and take a look. But not now—not in the middle of the night.
Pulse elevated, she tiptoed back to her bedroom and climbed in under the sheets, housecoat and all. She shivered and eventually drifted off to sleep—only to dream of orbs falling in the forest like snowflakes.
Lily awoke with the first rays of dawn, eyes burning from lack of sleep.
After lying awake for a full hour, drinking in her new surroundings, she climbed out of bed, donned her slippers, and padded over to the gilded mirror above the chest of drawers. Her hair hung limply and she realized that she hadn't seen any shower or bathtubs during the tour Mike had given her the night before. There must be one somewhere. She would find Hannah and ask first thing.
After gathering a change of clothes and a bag of toiletries, she stuffed them in a canvas bag, tied her hair back in a bun, and stepped out into the hallway.
Hannah was emerging from the staircase, a bundle of folded hand towels in her arms.
"Hannah—I'm so glad I found you. I have no idea where the shower is." She laughed.
"Oh, my." Hannah lowered the armload of towels and peered at Lily curiously. "Goodness. Didn't the boys take you on a tour last night?"
"They did but it was cut short."
"Oh. Well, I'm afraid this place is rather old fashioned." She shifted her weight and smiled. "Surely they showed you the master baths last night."
Master baths?
"No, I think I would have remembered that." She laughed. "I got to see the main floor rooms and the rooms in this wing, but I only saw a couple of rooms in the west wing before Ian sent Mike away. I've yet to see my grandfather's rooms."
"I don't understand though—why did Ian send Mike away?"
Lily lowered her voice to a confidential tone. "He got his nose way out of joint, I have no idea why, and a few minutes later took off himself. He was very awkward."
Hannah frowned but said nothing.
"So, you mentioned the master baths? Where are they located?"
"In the basement."
"There's a basement?" Despite her better judgment, a vision of dungeon chambers and cement shower stalls came to mind. "How creepy."
Hannah chuckled. "Not creepy in the slightest—Goodness me. Wait till you see! Just let me unload these towels here and I'll fetch Mike for you."
Lily blushed but realized she was being silly. If she was going to live here, she was going to have to get used to being seen in her housecoat by the staff.
Hannah excused herself and went into her room, returning a moment later, empty-handed. She then went to the third bedroom on the left side of the hallway and rapped on the door. "Mike," she shouted, "there's a damsel in distress out here."
Lily blushed again, hoping Hannah hadn't awakened him.
"Coming," a muffled voice said from within. Footsteps approached the door and it swung inward. Mike stepped out into the hallway followed by a waft of spicy cologne. He looked like he'd been up for a while already.
Hannah put her hands on her wide hips. "D'you mind showing Ms. Kline to the baths?"
"No problem." He glanced at Lily and raised an eyebrow. "Ian didn't finish the 'tour' last night?"
She shook her head. "Unfortunately, no."
"Well, come on then," he said with a wave of the hand and a grin. "It's no trouble."
"I'll see you two kids at breakfast," Hannah said, "nine o'clock sharp." She headed back to her bedroom, leaving them alone.
Blatantly aware of her uncombed hair and cocoon-like housecoat, Lily felt like a marshmallow next to Mike who was clean-shaven and wearing designer jeans and a hoody.
"Alrighty—this way," he said, jogging down the stairs.
Lily followed him to the main floor, wondering if her furry slippers were going to get dirty in the basement. "So, what are you up to today?" she asked, walking beside him.
"Oh, the usual. Keeping this place from falling apart. Gotta work on the plumbing in the washroom next to the kitchen—that's the main thing—and some light bulbs need replacing. Angie wants me to take a look at the oven, too. There's always something to do—I keep myself busy." He gave her a sidelong glance and winked. "So-o-o," he said. "How'd you enjoy the rest of your, ahem, tour last night? Doesn't sound like Ian was all that thorough if you don't even know where the baths are." He laughed.
"He didn't finish the tour." She recounted how Ian had gotten angry and marched her back to her bedroom. She left out the part about him saying she was beautiful. Her cheeks warmed with the memory.
Mike let out a snort. "He tells me to take a hike and then just takes you back to your room? Typical. That guy has issues. Such a control freak."
They reached the opposite end of the corridor where an arched door on the left led into a stairwell. In it was a hardwood spiral staircase, identical to the one at the front entrance complete with two wood-carved knights standing guard as the newel posts. The staircase led up to the west wing rooms of the second floor.
Lily let out an exaggerated sigh. "It sure is a long journey to the bathtub."
Mike laughed. "If these baths weren't so spectacular, I would've installed modern showers years ago. But Ian doesn't want one anyway and forbids it."
She gave him a long look. "I just can't wrap my head around the idea of a bath in the basement. I didn't even know there was a basement." He grinned. "Of course I figured there might be a cellar or a storage room of sorts," she went on, "but that's about it." She shrugged, smiling. "So, how big are these 'master' baths anyway?"
He leaned an elbow against the shoulder of one of the knights, facing her. "Oh, you'll see . . . " A wink.
She glanced up the antiquated staircase which disappeared to the floor above. There was so much of the mansion she had yet to see. Hanging from the low ceiling directly above them was a small iron chandelier which cast them in a dome of light. There were no windows in the stairwell and the corners of the room were shadowed. The walls were paneled in a dark brown wood and if the light wasn't on, the room would be black.
"Why don't you and Ian get along?" she asked impulsively, hugging the wad of folded clothes tighter under her left arm and shifting her weight. She felt like a dork in her housecoat and Mike seemed in no hurry to take her to the baths; she might as well ask some questions.
He straightened, reaching up and casually gripping the pole of the knight's battle axe, one hand on his hip. "He's just weird, that's why. I do all the work around here and he's always just off in that work shed of his. He doesn't go into town and rarely speaks to anyone. Or maybe it's just me he ignores. He's chummy-chummy with Hannah, Angie and Chris—but then so was Auguste. He was a recluse, too." He dropped his hand from his hip. "It's not normal," he said, lowering his voice and speaking matter-of-factly. "I've never trusted either of them."
She frowned. "Does his behavior have anything to do with being taken in as a child?"
Mike hesitated. "It's best we not talk about that." He broke eye contact, flicking a glance up the stairs and then into the hallway as though someone might be listening.
"But why not?" she persisted, forgetting to lower her voice. So—Ian wasn't the only one keeping secrets; they all seemed to be hiding something. "What harm could it do?"
"He's very private about it, and I respect a man's privacy." Mike dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning closer. "Look, all I know is that he wasn't exactly 'taken in.' He was found in the mansion. In the attic."
Her eyes widened. "What!" She didn't even know there was an attic. What was a young child doing up in the attic of a house that wasn't even his home? A chill ran down her spine and her hands grew cold. She knew nothing about her grandfather. A myriad of suspicions flooded her subconscious and her pulse quickened.
"Can you show me this attic?" she asked.
"I . . . can't." He met her gaze. "It's off limits. For all of us."
"But I'm Auguste's heiress, I have the right."
"The attic is dangerous," he said in a hushed tone, body tense. He kept glancing behind her and up the stairs as though nervous. "No one ever goes up there."
"What could possibly be dangerous about it?"
"Well, for starters, it hasn't been cleaned in years and the roof has leaked, causing the floor to rot in places. You could fall through. Plus, there're plenty of spiders up there and some have a nasty bite. Check this out—" He rolled up a sleeve and showed her a round pink scar on his forearm.
"Spiders don't scare me."
He grinned at that, visibly relaxing. "I don't think there are many things that scare you," he said, cocking an eyebrow.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, you're about to have a bath in the basement and I'm sure you've heard by now of the dead maid found floating down there a few years back." He folded his arms across his chest. "The murderer was never found."
Lily's breath caught in her throat and she felt the blood drain from her face; realizing how vulnerable she was in this huge house full of secrets and strangers. If anything happened to her, she doubted anyone back home would even know she'd gone missing. She hadn't left a forwarding address with anyone.
Raising a shaky hand to her throat, she blinked at Mike and swallowed, trying to compose herself.
The grin faded from his lips. "Are you all right?" he said, looking concerned. "I was joking, Lily. No one was murdered here! Seriously—I was just pulling your leg."
She shoved him in the chest. "You jerk! Don't scare me like that." She let out a nervous laugh.
Mike raised both hands in mock surrender. "Hey, it's not my fault you're so gullible." He winked and reached for the battle axe.
Lily was about to retort when he tugged on the axe, bending it sideways.
A swish sounded and a sliding door opened in the paneled wall behind him. Startled, she stepped around him and peered into the opening.
Stone steps led downward into shadows.
"Here, I'll lead the way," he said, moving in front of her and starting down the steps. "Hold the wall so you don't loose your footing."
Twenty steps down they reached an arched wooden doorway, barely visible; the only light was the faint stream from the chandelier in the upper stairwell. Mike pressed down on an iron handle and pushed the door open. Warm air and yellow light spilled over them, banishing the darkness.
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