Page 56 of Winterset
I did as she said, but the door did not open.
I tried again, pulling more firmly this time, but it barely budged.
“Allow me to show you?” Mrs. Owensby asked.
I nodded my approval and took a step back to allow her space to open the bookshelf.
She tipped back the little blue book just as I had twice before, but unlike me, she held on to the book and used her strength to pull the door open.
A musty smell filled my nose. Mrs. Owensby stepped inside the small space, turning in a small circle and moving her arms as if to clear the space of cobwebs, or perhaps evidence.
Cobwebs did indeed cover the walls of the cool, dark corridor, and two centuries’ worth of dust coated the floorboards, save Mrs. Owensby’s fresh footprints, of course. It was hard to imagine anyone hiding inside my walls. A shiver snaked down my spine. I shuddered and secured the door back into place.
“Show me the rest of the priest hides,” I said.
She nodded. “Follow me.”
I did, but first, I pushed the desk against the bookcase so that it could not easily be opened from the inside.
In the entrance hall, standing in front of the wall of portraits, Mrs. Owensby pointed out another priest hide. “Push the top of that timber.”
Thinking it would stick like the last one, I used my strength, and it swung swiftly out and struck me in the shin.
Blast!
I jumped back. After walking off the pain, I lightly pressed the timber and looked inside the dark cavity.
This priest hide was much smaller than the entrance to the servants’ corridor in my study.Muchsmaller. It was a wonder anyone could fit inside at all.
I crouched to look inside and saw something. A frame?
I reached inside to pull it out, letting the timber fall back into place as I stood, and held up the frame to view the image.
Miss Lockwood’s missing portrait. The same one Mrs. Owensby claimed had been misplaced, but it hadnotbeen misplaced. It had been hidden.
I rehung the portrait in its proper place and stepped back to ensure it was level. My goodness, Miss Lockwood was beautiful. Miss Dalton did not hold a candle to her.
“This stays here.” I gave Mrs. Owensby a reproving look. “Show me the dining hall next.”
She led me there and pointed at the threadbare tapestry hanging on the wall. “There is an alcove behind it.”
I pulled back the material and stepped inside. Curious about what it would feel like to hide here, I let the tapestry fall back into place. The space was immediately dark, save for a few pinpricks of light that poked through holes. I peeked through one. It had a perfect view to see the head of the table. My skin prickled at the thought of Miss Lockwood’s watching me take my meals. But despite my strong suspicion, I hadn’t found any evidence of another human hiding in my house.
I stepped back out. “Show me the drawing room now.” I wanted to know how someone could play the pianoforte one second and disappear the next.
With a nod, Mrs. Owensby led me into the drawing room and pointed out a hidden jib door. I pushed on the panel, and it slid open to reveal the derelict servant’s passageway. This passageway was as dark and dusty as the one in my study, though the cobwebs here were broken and brushed aside, and the dust on the floor had been disturbed by human footprints.
I blinked, not believing my eyes, but they did not disappear. I stepped inside the corridor, determined to discover where the footprints led.
“Mr. Jennings, please, wait.”
But I did not wait.
I did not even slow as I walked the length of the corridor and climbed the steep stairs. At the top, a door opened to the first-floor landing, and directly before me was the attic door.
Mrs. Owensby had not followed me through the passageway but was using the grand staircase to climb.
I did not wait for her to catch up but opened the attic door and climbed the steep spiral stairs.
