Page 34 of Winterset
Only a few moments later, Mr. Jennings skidded into the hall. He held a candlestick, which highlighted the fact that he wore only his nightshirt. It gaped at the neck, revealing the portion of his chest that a cravat would typically cover.
I swallowed hard.
He raked his free hand through his curls, the golden locks gleaming in the flickering candlelight. He squinted into the darkness at the pianoforte. “What the devil?”
Not long after, his manservant, Charlie, ran into the room, looking just as bedraggled as Mr. Jennings. “Granger?”
“I’m here,” Mr. Jennings said.
Charlie glanced around the drawing room. “Were you ... playing yourself a lullaby?”
Mr. Jennings scowled. “Don’t be daft. The music woke me, same as you.”
And a moment later, a disheveled Bexley and Mrs. Owensby entered the room.
“Sir?” Bexley said. “Are you quite all right?” Bexley’s voice was gravelly with sleep. And behind him, Mrs. Owensby clutched the neckline of her night dress.
“The pianoforte,” Mr. Jennings said, pointing an accusing finger at it. “It played.”
“You mean,youplayed?” Mrs. Owensby said.
“No,itplayed. I only just came down to see who was playing at this ungodly hour and found the room empty.”
“We were belowstairs,” Charlie said. “Perhaps it was ...” His sentence drew out, then died, having no plausible explanation.
I smiled.
No one was hurt. No one was blamed. I’d succeeded!
Mr. Jennings checked the windows, the pianoforte, behind the furniture. But there was nothing to find. Well, nothing except for me, of course, but I was hidden within the wall.
They continued discussing what might have caused the disturbance, and I passed through the secret corridor undetected upstairs. It was cramped and dark and dusty, but I hardly noticed as I felt my way upstairs, so great was my glee.
And I wasn’t even finished yet.
With everyone accounted for, I went to Mr. Jennings’s bedchamber. I opened the window, and cool air whooshed into the room, billowing the curtains. His bedchamber would be freezing when he returned.
I turned to leave but paused when I saw something on Mr. Jennings’s dressing table: his fob watch, key, and seal. It was his seal that interested me most. I picked it up and moved to the hearth to inspect it in the firelight.
The inscription read:Veritas,Honestas,Libertas.Truth, Honor, Freedom. The motto was laid over a rose.
Perhaps I would hold on to this until Mr. Jennings learned to live by the virtues it symbolized.
I closed my fingers around the seal and slipped into the corridor. I walked to the end and opened the small window.
When Mr. Jennings opened his bedchamber door, it would create a wind tunnel and slam the door shut. He might be able to explain why the door slammed but notwhohad opened the window.
Pleased with my work, I climbed the stairs to the attic and got into bed. And for the first time in a month, with Mr. Jennings’s seal safe in my hand, I slept soundly.
Oliver
The next morning, I tooka breakfast tray in the drawing room. As I ate a too-hard, tasteless biscuit, I stared at the pianoforte. I did not believe for one second that Miss Lockwood’s ghost was haunting me.
It was implausible.
Foolish.
And yet I could not explain last night’s events: A pianoforte could not play on its own, nor could windows open themselves. Even now, in the light of day, fully awake and rested, I could not make sense of what had transpired.
