“She sounds like your favorite person.”
“Pardon me, Miss. I shouldn’t speak ill of the Madame. She allowed me to stay on after Victor died last year. These old houses aren’t much common anymore – I’d be hard-pressed to find a new groundskeeper’s job. I’d probably end up raking grass at the big golf course.” The horrified look on Harrison’s face told me exactly what he thought of such a career change.
“Did you know the maid who was killed?”
“I did, I did. Clare… such a sweet girl.” Harrison’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “I was the one who… on the staircase… I was mending a broken pane in the library when I heard the scream. I’ve never seen anything so horrible in all my years. Her neck all twisted, her eyes wide, and her mouth was open like she was still screaming.”
“I read in the paper the police decided it was an accident.”
“Accident my foot.” Harrison’s jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to say more. “She was pushed.”
He sounded so certain that a cold chill ran down my spine.Blast the fucktrumpets – what have I walked into?“Tell me what happened.”
“Clare was carrying on with one of the male students – a real charmer, using his wealth and good looks to take advantage of her sweet nature. She told me with stars in her eyes that he planned to take her to Europe on his next tour, and ask her to marry him under the Eiffel Tower, all sorts of girlish fancies – but he never intended any of it. He had women on speed dial all across the world, but Clare couldn’t see it. It boiled my blood, it did – in my day we learned how to treat a lady right.”
“I can tell you’re a gentleman of the highest order.” I smiled, and Harrison beamed and puffed out his chest. I noticed a wedding ring on his finger, dirt smeared between the delicate filigree. The smile fell from his face as he continued his story.
“One night, I found Clare in the pantry, sobbing. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, only that she’d had a fight with her fella. Two days later, she was dead. Andhewas there, fawning over her body, crying that she’d fallen.”
“You think he pushed her?”
Harrison nodded. “Iknowhe pushed her. That bastard’s still there, swanning about like he’s God’s gift to music. Mark my words, Miss Faye, you watch yourself around those students, especially the young men. They’ve all got sticks shoved so far up their asses you could wave ‘em about like lollipops.”
I laughed at the image, but Harrison’s words unnerved me. If he was right, and a murderer was still at the school…
Don’t be ridiculous. This is real life, not a horror film. The police would have questioned this guy. If they let him go, there must be a good reason.
We drove out of the city and into the mountains. Tall trees loomed over the road, and I made Harrison open the sunroof so I could stick my head out and bask in the fresh air. My hair whipped around my face, and for a moment I forgot that I was penniless and alone. For a moment, I was free.
Then the weight of my mother’s illness and my agreement with Madame Usher slammed down on my shoulders. I slid back into the limo and yanked the sunroof shut.
We passed through a few small towns and a larger city, where Harrison pointed out the gleaming hospital building on the hill. “Your mother’s already settled in her new room. She has a lovely view over the river. I’ve seen to all the details.”
On the other side of the city, we turned into a winding wooded road that curled up the mountains, zigzagging through dense forest and over bubbling streams. I was just thinking about rolling back the sunroof again when the road ended at a set of wrought-iron gates nearly entirely obscured with vines. Beyond them, a small brick gatehouse peeked from between the trees.
Harrison rolled down the window and the crisp mountain air rushed in, washing over me – a primal exhalation that reminded me of being on stage with the audience’s collective breath releasing as the music pulled them under.
“Welcome to Manderley.” Harrison pushed a button on the dashboard, and the gates swung open. A narrow driveway snaked through the woods. Branches scraped the side of the limo as we inched our way forward, and it was impossible to see anything through the thick trees and towering cones of vicious-looking thistles. Here and there I saw the edges of stone walls – these gardens had once been well-kept, but now the mountains had crept down upon them unawares – nature reclaiming what was hers.
I remembered all the famous musicians, composers, and conductors listed in the brochure who supposedly visit Manderley every year. I couldn’t match up the glittering black-tie galas in the pictures with this overgrown, neglected driveway.
Just when I thought the road couldn’t get any narrower, it widened out into a circular drive, surrounding a dried-up fountain – Cupid peered out at me from behind his lyre atop a weed-choked plinth. Beyond it, I got my first glimpse of Manderley Academy.
The place isinsane.
If you were looking to cast a creepy house for a gothic horror film, you’d come to Manderley. The gabled roof chewed at the bitter sky with serrated teeth. Twin turrets jutted from the corners, and walls of grey stone stood like the battlements of a castle, immovable against the progress of time. A wide porch wrapped around the front – a later addition, by the looks of it – held up by elaborately-carved wooden poles and wreathed with delicate iron railings. Dormer windows along the roof loomed over me, catching the sun on the glass – gleaming eyes watching. Judging.
The driveway fanned out in both directions, leading off to stone and wooden outbuildings scattered deeper in the trees. I recognized what might’ve once been a stable. At any moment I expected to see a horse and cart roll by or to hear someone yelling to bring out the plague victims.
The only nod to modernity was the row of cars parked in a small clearing under the trees. A Porsche, a Jaguar F-type, a little pink Corvette, some kind of enormous blinged-out pickup truck … all of them freshly buffed and polished, despite the danger of tree sap looming directly above them.
“Thanks,” I said to Harrison as he pulled my duffel from the trunk and handed it to me.
“A pleasure, Miss de Winter. If you’ll forgive me, normally I’d come inside with you, but I need to collect the wood before those clouds roll in. I believe I’ll be seeing you later when you begin your work.” Harrison doffed his hat at me and set off toward the outbuildings, whistling a merry tune.
He seems nice enough.A little odd, but you’d have to be to live in the middle of nowhere waiting on rich, snooty musicians who park their fancy sports cars under trees. I bet they weren’t the ones cleaning them.
I shifted my violin case to my other hand so I could grip the iron balustrade as I ascended the steps. Up close I could see that the house was as shabby as the grounds. Shingles were missing from the roof, and weeds choked the drain pipes and snaked up the crumbling stone walls. It was weird how Manderley was so prestigious, only accepting a handful of students every year, and yet the place had been allowed to deteriorate into such a state. It was a far cry from the polish of the brochure. I inspected the rotting wood of the steps as I climbed.These don’t look structurally sound—
