James did not look away from the house. “I intend to leave with answers.”
“That is not a denial,” Roderick said.
James ignored him.
At the front steps, James paused. The door was shut, but the lock was cheap. A house abandoned long enough would have been stripped. A house that was being used would have been secured. This was neither. It was as if someone wanted it to appear abandoned without fully committing to the lie.
“Ready?” James asked.
Roderick nodded. “Do not do anything foolish.”
James tested the door. It opened easily.
Inside, the air was stale, but not entirely. Not fully dead. There was the faintest trace of smoke, old but present, as if a fire had been laid not long ago. The entry hall was coated with dust, but not evenly. Someone had walked here. Recently.
Roderick moved ahead, scanning. “A candle.”
James followed his gaze to a stub in a brass holder on a side table. Wax dripped down the sides. Not ancient. Not untouched.
“They are here,” James said.
Roderick’s expression tightened. “Careful.”
They moved through the rooms slowly. The parlor had furniture covered in sheets, but one chair was uncovered. A footprint marked the dust near the hearth. The kitchen smelled faintly of broth or boiled meat, as if someone had cooked in haste and left.
James stopped near the pantry. “Bread.”
Roderick leaned in. “Still soft.”
James’s jaw tightened. “Someone left in a hurry.”
Or they wanted us to see it, he thought.
They climbed the stairs, the wood groaning beneath their boots. James held his breath at every creak, listening for movement above.
Nothing.
They reached the landing. A corridor stretched ahead, lined with doors, most hanging open.
Roderick pointed. “That one is shut.”
James nodded. “I see it.”
They approached together. James placed a hand on the knob.
“Wait,” Roderick whispered.
James paused. “Why?”
Roderick’s eyes narrowed. “Because it is too easy.”
James agreed, but his patience was gone. He turned the knob anyway and pushed the door open.
The room beyond was warmer than the rest of the house.
A fire burned low in the grate. The curtains were drawn. A chair sat near the hearth, and in it, as if she had been waiting for an invitation rather than an intrusion, sat Lady Whitcombe.
She looked up at them with an expression of mild amusement.
