by Lindsey Duga
But if you looked beyond the dust (or rather, if you didn’t look too carefully), it was still an elegant estate. Fancy curtains and ornate gold frames around expensive-looking paintings. Lovely wall tapestries and small marble sculptures. As Archie trotted along behind Emily and Mr. Thornton, Emily couldn’t help but grow excited at the prospect of exploring the place with her friend.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Thornton looked down at her, his mustache wiggling as he spoke. “Emily, this is your home now. I want you to feel welcome here.”
At his words, a light giggle tickled Emily’s ear, like the buzzing of a bee or a fly. She glanced around her shoulder, expecting to see something or someone … but there was nothing.
Mr. Thornton had stopped when she had, and he looked down at her with a small frown. “What’s wrong?” he asked her, dark brows pulled together to shadow his eyes.
“Did you hear that?” Emily asked, unsure.
Mr. Thornton’s frown deepened. “Hear what?”
“Um …” Emily shook her head. “Nothing.”
The two continued on down the hall, stopping in front of a simple-looking door with a brass lock and handle. “I hope you like your new room.” Mr. Thornton then pulled out a large brass key ring from his pocket, his long fingers moving through the fifty-some-odd keys until he found the one he was looking for. Mr. Thornton slid it inside the lock and, following a satisfying click, pushed the door open and gestured for Emily to enter.
Holding her breath (though she wasn’t sure why), Emily stepped into the room, Archie at her side.
Her room was simply perfect.
The furniture was made of a deep cherrywood with white lace doilies decorating the surfaces of the armoire, dresser, and vanity. The canopy bed was tidy, its white sheets neatly tucked, with lavender accents on the pillows and dust ruffles. The rug near the fireplace had a design with light, pale colors that stood out against the dark wood floor.
Archie immediately claimed the rug, curling up in its center and resting his head on his paws. His eyes closed at once, and Emily resisted the urge to pat his head. He must have been exhausted after a frightening carriage ride and a stressful bath.
Mr. Thornton waited patiently at the threshold of the door while Emily explored the room, her fingers stroking the waxed wood and the fluffy sheets.
“Is this really all mine?” Emily wondered out loud, more to herself than asking Mr. Thornton, as she opened the armoire to find a row of neat cream-and-lace nightgowns.
“Of course this is all yours. This is your home now. We want you to be comfortable, and …”
Emily turned back to Mr. Thornton. He was watching her with a careful, guarded expression. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew his brass key ring. It jangled and clinked with all the keys falling neatly against one another. He held it out and placed it into her outstretched hands.
“Feel free to explore as you wish. These keys are yours now.”
Emily ran her fingers over the cool jagged metal and felt her excitement mount. She’d just been given a set of keys to her new castle. She could go anywhere she wished! She could spend days and days exploring the manor and learning all its secrets.
Maybe by learning its secrets, Blackthorn Manor would feel less creepy and mysterious to her. It would begin to feel more like a home.
“However”—Mr. Thornton knelt down, coming to her at eye level and wagging one finger in front of her nose—“there is one room, directly above yours”—he pointed to the ceiling—“that you must never go into.”
“Why not?” Emily asked before she could stop herself.
Mr. Thornton placed a gentle but firm hand on her head and ruffled her dark hair. “It is a private place to your mother and me, and I ask you to respect this. Can you do that?”
At the words your mother and me, Emily’s face flushed with warm pleasure and she knew, without a doubt, that this was a dream come true. She had parents who had given her a beautiful room, accepted her best friend, and allowed her an entire castle to explore. What was one off-limits room out of so many open to her? What was one rule compared to an endless list of them at Evanshire’s?
Besides, she desperately wanted to please her new father.
Vigorously, she nodded her head and said, “Yes, P-Papa.”
Mr. Thornton smiled beneath his mustache and patted her head. “Good girl. Now, have a pleasant sleep.”
With that, he left her with the ring of keys and Archie sleeping soundly on the rug. As soon as the door closed with a click, her gaze drifted to the ceiling. She promised herself that she’d never betray the trust of her new parents by venturing to the west wing on the third floor.
Even so, her mind couldn’t help but wander …
The sunlight that escaped through the window curtains and snuck inside the cracks of the canopy bed teased Emily’s eyelids. She blinked, dazed, forgetting where she was. For a frightening moment, she expected to see Miss Evanshire’s face hovering over hers, screaming at her for sleeping late and missing chores, threatening no supper for a week.
Her heart rate calmed when she remembered what had happened the day before. As if to reinforce that this moment wasn’t still a pleasant dream, Archie poked his head through her curtains and licked her fingers.
“Good morning, boy,” she said with a smile, scratching behind his ears.
For a few moments, she allowed herself to enjoy the sunlight and the simple fact that she didn’t have to be out of bed, splashing her face with frigid water, and then immediately cleaning every inch of the upstairs floor.
Finally, when her stomach prodded at her for nourishment, Emily hopped out of bed, but she shivered at the freezing floor against her bare feet. In fact, the entire room felt deathly cold—almost as cold as a room would be in the winter, not in the early summer. After changing out of one of the nightgowns that had been in the armoire and back into her old smock—the only day dress she had—Emily tugged on her worn shoes to protect her bare feet from the icy floor. Fully dressed, she went to her new vanity, trying to comb her bedhead hair that seemed to stick out in every direction.
As she reached for a ribbon in the drawer to tie back her dark locks, a pitter-patter of noise came from above.
Emily paused, frowning up at the ceiling. Were those footsteps she heard? It was too distant and too muffled to tell. More likely, it was just mice scampering between the walls, but she shivered anyway. The room really was too cold.
Maybe she could ask Mr. Thornton for a fire before she went to bed tonight.
She was just tying the ribbon into her hair when a knock startled her. Archie gave a worried bark, and Emily shushed him with a finger to her lips. “Hush, boy.”
Before she’d even reached the door, it swung open with Miss Greer standing at the threshold, a basket of laundry balancing on her hip.
“Planning to sleep away the day, Miss Emily?” she asked, an eyebrow raised, but with a smile to indicate her teasing.
Emily blushed. “I guess I was tired. Can I help you, Miss Greer?”
The older housekeeper waved the offer away. “No, no, I’m fine. Come, breakfast is ready for you. If you wait much longer, it will be teatime!”
At that, Miss Greer headed down the hallway, and Emily hurried after her, Archie following dutifully behind.
Down at breakfast, once more having her meal in the scullery, Emily helped herself to only a small portion from the spread that Miss Greer had laid out before her. When the old maid saw the meager helping, she shoveled Emily’s plate high with bread and sausage while fussing under her breath, “Not nearly enough meat on your bones, miss. A walking skeleton, you are!”
Emily didn’t dare argue and ate quietly and quickly, occasionally sliding bits of sausage under the table. Archie’s tongue tickling her fingers alerted her that the sausage was greatly appreciated.
“Where are Mr. and Mrs. Thornton—I mean, Mama and Papa?” Emily finally asked, after swallowing a particularly rich bite of bread and butte
r.
“They headed off to London early this morning to do some shopping,” Miss Greer said as she stirred the pot on the stove. It smelled like stew—maybe it was for the midday meal or evening supper. “They wanted to take you, but Mrs. Thornton worried you would be far too tired for another journey to London so soon after you arrived. She turned out right because you slept quite late.”
Emily blushed again. While she was sorry to have missed her new parents, she was glad not to have to ride for hours in a carriage again. Plus, she was very eager to explore Blackthorn Manor.
Emily took a sip of her tea. “What are they shopping for?”
“They wanted to buy you a few nice dresses for your new wardrobe. You can’t continue wearing that old smock,” Miss Greer said, gesturing with her spoon toward Emily’s ratty orphanage dress.
An excited thrill flushed Emily’s cheeks deeper at the idea of a pretty new dress, and she had to stuff her mouth with another sausage to stop herself from asking more questions. She didn’t want Miss Greer to think her too nosy.
“So what are you up to today, Miss Emily?” Miss Greer turned back to her pot and added some kind of herb to the concoction.
The brass key ring seemed to grow heavy in Emily’s dress pocket, as if it knew how deeply Emily desired to use it.
She shrugged. “I thought I’d look around a little.”
“Well, that sounds fun,” Miss Greer said, sticking her head into the pot, then wrinkling her nose and adding another handful of herbs. “If you decide to go outside, stay close. Always be within sight of the manor. You don’t want to get lost and have Mr. Thornton go search for you.”
“No, ma’am,” Emily agreed. She pushed away her breakfast and tucked her hands under her thighs, wondering how long she had to wait before she could be dismissed to start her adventure.
A few minutes passed before Miss Greer glanced over her shoulder and her eyebrows flew up into her gray curls. “You’re still here? Go on, then, child!”
Emily launched herself from the scullery table, Archie’s nails clicking on the stone floor as he raced after her.
She hardly knew where to begin. If Blackthorn Manor was her very own castle full of secrets, then how could she uncover them?
Halting in front of the grand staircase leading up to the second floor, she ignored all the shadows and cobwebs and imagined that it could be used for balls where princesses and princes would make their big entrance, arm-in-arm, wearing silk and velvet.
She looked to her left and right. Besides the entrance hall and the scullery, she had no idea what rooms were on the first floor. What sort of rooms were they?
Well, she had to start somewhere, but before she could pick a direction, Archie bounded up the steps. Surprised, but somewhat excited, Emily followed. Her feet padded against the carpet, past the second floor, and up the final set to the third floor.
Like most pointers, Archie followed his nose and his natural-born hunter instincts. Where they led him to, Emily had no idea but was eager to find out. He darted to the left, and as Emily took a few steps she realized exactly where Archie seemed to be headed.
The room right above hers—Mr. and Mrs. Thornton’s forbidden room.
“Whoa, boy,” she said, grabbing Archie gently around the neck. The dog whined, but Emily didn’t let go.
The truth was, now that she was closer to the room, her curiosity had become ten times stronger. Emily was sure that if she ventured farther down the hall, that desire to disobey would only increase. And she wouldn’t betray her new parents’ trust, especially on only her second day.
Better to remove the temptation at all. So she turned them both around to head down the steps.
Back on the first floor, Emily set off down the eastern wing this time, Archie sniffing along beside her.
As she turned down the hallway, Emily smothered a scream with her hands.
Her cry came out high and muffled as she pressed her fingers against her lips, while her horrified gaze lingered on a great red deer positioned against the wall. Its lifeless eyes stared down at her, antlers sharp as fire pokers and muscles strong and pronounced underneath the light red-brown fur.
Even Archie growled next to her, hackles raised, and Emily had to put a hand on his head to calm him. The buck was obviously quite dead, but that was somehow worse than a live deer in a house. The way it just stood there frozen, watching her with black eyes, made her skin crawl.
Quickly, Emily moved past the deer, anxious to get as far as possible from it. Maybe, when she’d been here a year or so, she could ask Mr. Thornton to move the creature elsewhere, in a room she’d never have to visit again.
The first door Emily used her key ring on looked ordinary enough. It was so ordinary that it took Emily five tries until she found the right key to unlock it. She stepped inside, leaving the door cracked behind her. Immediately, Archie started poking his nose into the corners and legs of the furniture while Emily stood there, taking in the decor.
It was a study of some sort with a two-person sofa, a chintz armchair, a fireplace, and a desk. It was hard to tell the color of the furniture because everything in the room was coated in a thick layer of dust. Emily worried that if she breathed too hard or sneezed, she’d be caught in a heavy dust storm. To confirm her theory, she ran her finger across the surface of the desk, leaving behind a clear mark. The bright cherrywood shone underneath so rich and red that Emily thought it a great pity the desk was buried underneath the layer of gray.
Next to the desk was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf built into the wall, holding all sorts of things like old maps, big leather-bound books, and a globe. She reached up to touch the latter, when a big black thing scurried across the sepia-toned sphere.
Emily yelped, jumping back with a disgusted shudder. She hated spiders!
The creature, with its long black legs crawling unnaturally, emerged on the globe’s handle and moved across to its glittering silver web attached to the deep corner of the bookshelf. Emily turned away, not wanting to see any more of the spider or its web.
She distracted herself by inspecting a couple of sea paintings above the sofa. As she admired the artist’s brushstrokes depicting sea spray clashing against rocks, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. It reminded Emily of her room that morning, except this wasn’t left over from the late-night chill. Rather, it seemed to get colder by the second. Soon, goose bumps decorated her arms and her hair stood on end, while her teeth chattered.
How did it get so cold?
Emily was about to open her mouth to call for Archie when she heard a tiny squeaking noise. Confused, she turned in a circle, looking for the source of the sound. Her feet and her heart stopped when she saw the door slowly inching closed on its own.
The creaking grew louder as the big, heavy door strained on its hinges.
It was a creepy sight, but Emily urged her nerves to calm down. Doors did that all the time at the orphanage. There would be a cold draft, and then the door would swing shut loudly, frightening all the girls. Nothing to worry about. But still, she dearly hoped all the rooms weren’t like this.
Unfortunately, the next two were.
One was a small bedroom with a bed and a big quilt of flowers that had probably once been full of vibrant colors but were now faded with age. In this room, too, dust covered all the furniture, and the mirror that sat on the armoire was rusting on the edges and cracked, distorting Emily’s reflection. In the briefest of moments, Emily could’ve sworn she saw something in the corner of the mirror, but the cracks made it hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t.
There was a big window with thin curtains, holes dotting the hem—probably the result of moths. Driven away by the thought of more insects, Emily ventured into the next room.
This one was also a bedroom, except instead of just dust, it smelled strongly of mildew. A large water spot stretched from one corner of the ceiling outward. It looked like it had long since dried, but the water had done its damage on the wood, lea
ving the room with a bad case of mold.
Leaving the bedroom and its smells behind, Emily made her way down the halls, wondering which door she should try next. As her dress kicked around her shins, Archie began to playfully nip at her heels, and before long the two were running down the halls, chasing each other. Her laugh bounced off the walls as Archie’s tail slipped through her fingers, and he ran a few paces ahead, turning and throwing his paws forward, his tail wagging high in the air. That’s when Emily realized something that sent a chill down her spine:
She wasn’t the only one laughing.
Emily froze, the laugh dying in her throat. But the other giggle—the airy, light giggle that somehow reminded her of Mrs. Thornton—still drifted down the hallway from behind.
Archie stopped, too. His head cocked to the side as if he was listening intently to the laugh as well.
Too spooked to turn around, Emily ran down the hall, passing the scary buck, rounding the bend, and running into a solid stomach and pair of legs under a stained apron.
Emily looked up to find Miss Greer staring down at her with her hands on her hips. “What on God’s green earth are you doing, child?”
Breathless, Emily cast a look behind her shoulder. Of course there was nothing. She felt Archie nudge her waist and she swallowed, drawing strength from his presence.
“Nothing, I was just …” She paused a moment to catch her breath, then continued, “Exploring with Archie.”
“Really? And what did you find that was so funny?”
Mouth open, Emily slowly shook her head, not sure how to respond, her thoughts still on the laughter that had come from behind her.
“Well?”
Miss Greer eyed her, and Emily knew she had to say something normal so the housekeeper would begin to accept her as part of the Thornton family, but instead, Emily blurted, “I heard someone laughing.”
“Yes, that was you,” Miss Greer said impatiently, taking Emily’s shoulders and steering her down the hall.