Chapter 2 - the room at the end of the hall
Mary Jane was given a bedroom in the east wing.
It overlooked the winter garden and stood at the end of a corridor that had been closed since Julian’s childhood. Mrs. Dallow opened the curtains, lit the fireplace, and placed Mary Jane’s suitcase on the bed.
“You may decorate however you wish.”
Mary Jane looked around the enormous room.
“Do I have to stay here alone?”
Mrs. Dallow’s face softened.
“My room is one floor below. There is a bell beside the bed.”
“My mother said bells don’t help if the wrong person answers.”
Mrs. Dallow crouched in front of her.
“Did your mother tell you something about this house?”
Mary Jane glanced toward the open door.
“She told me never to come here unless she was gone.”
Mrs. Dallow’s hands trembled.
“Did she tell you why?”
Mary Jane reached inside her coat and removed an old brass key attached to a blue ribbon.
“She said the house remembered everything.”
Before Mrs. Dallow could ask what the key opened, footsteps approached.
Victoria entered carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.
“How thoughtful of Thomas to give you the largest guest room.”
Mary Jane closed her hand around the key.
Mrs. Dallow stood.
“The east wing was specified in the instructions.”
“Of course it was.”
Victoria placed the tray on a table.
“You may leave us, Mrs. Dallow.”
The housekeeper did not move.
“Mary Jane has had a long journey.”
“I only want to make her feel welcome.”
Mary Jane watched Mrs. Dallow leave, though the housekeeper deliberately kept the door open.
Victoria sat beside the child.
“I understand your mother worked for Thomas.”
“She organized his papers.”
“She was an archivist.”
“She found things people wanted hidden.”
Victoria poured tea.
“Your mother was also very ill.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
“That is what grief can do. It changes memories.”
“My mother died in a car accident.”
Victoria placed a biscuit on a plate.
“Accidents happen when adults make dangerous choices.”
Mary Jane looked at her.
“Did you know her?”
The teapot paused in Victoria’s hand.
“Only by reputation.”
“She knew you.”
“I doubt that.”
“She had your picture.”
Tea spilled into the saucer.
Victoria set the pot down.
“What picture?”
“One from before you met Julian.”
Victoria leaned closer.
“Where is it?”
Mary Jane remained silent.
Victoria’s voice softened.
“Your mother may have left dangerous things behind. Things you would not understand. You should give them to me so no one gets hurt.”
“My mother said not to trust anyone with the crown.”
The pleasant expression vanished from Victoria’s face.
Then Mrs. Dallow appeared at the door.
“Mr. Ashford is asking for Miss Vale.”
Victoria stood.
As she passed the housekeeper, she spoke quietly.
“You have always been too interested in matters above your position.”
Mrs. Dallow answered just as quietly.
“And you have always mistaken position for power.”
Victoria left.
That evening, Julian joined Mary Jane for dinner in the smaller family dining room.
He was awkward around children. He asked about school, received one-word answers, and spent too much time checking messages from the estate attorneys.
Victoria dominated the conversation with wedding plans.
“The gala will also serve as our engagement celebration,” she said. “Elias believes it would be efficient to sign the consolidation agreement that evening.”
Julian frowned.
“I thought that document concerned only the company shares.”
“It combines the estate management structures after our marriage.”
Mary Jane stopped eating.
“What does consolidation mean?”
Victoria smiled.
“It means two things become one.”
“Which one disappears?”
Julian looked at her.
“Neither.”
Victoria’s gaze remained on Mary Jane.
“That depends on who is stronger.”
Later, Mary Jane lay awake listening to the old house settle.
Shortly after midnight, her door opened.
She pretended to be asleep.
A shadow crossed the room.
Drawers opened quietly.
Her suitcase was searched.
The mattress shifted as someone felt beneath it.
Mary Jane kept her breathing slow.
The brass key was hidden inside the hem of her stuffed rabbit.
After several minutes, the shadow left.
Mary Jane waited until the footsteps faded.
Then she climbed from bed and followed.
At the far end of the corridor, the shadow slipped through a narrow door concealed behind a tapestry.
Mary Jane touched the old brass key through the rabbit’s fabric.
For the first time since arriving, she understood her mother’s warning.
May you like
Ashford House was not merely remembering.
Someone inside it was still searching.
