I forced a smile. “No… nothing at all.”
Her eyes lingered on me, sharp and appraising, before she nodded once. “Then come. There is still much to see.”
We returned to the main staircase, the silence between us thick and oppressive. As we descended, I felt the weight of the manor pressing around me, its corridors twisting unseen behind closed doors.
When we reached the hall again, Mrs. Ashby inclined her head stiffly. “The house is a maze, but eventually you’ll have your bearings.” We turned down several corridors at the back of the house.
Room after room, hallway after hallway, door after door. By the time we’d finished, my feet ached dreadfully and my stomach protested my fast.
“That concludes the tour for now,” she said finally, almost dismissively.
“His Grace will be expecting you for supper soon I’m sure. Nelly will help you freshen up and dress.” She eyed meclosely for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line as her gaze trailed to my scar.
“I have a salve that will calm the irritation,” she said plainly. “I’ll send it up with Nelly.”
I thanked her, reaching up to touch my scar, though she had already begun to walk away. Her black gown vanished down the corridor like a shadow receding into deeper shadow.
I stood alone a moment longer, my pulse still unsteady. The manor seemed too quiet again, watchful somehow, as though it had taken note of my curiosity and found it displeasing.
I turned to leave, and as I did, a sound rose from somewhere above.
A slow, deliberate knock.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then silence.
At first, I thought I had imagined it.
The echo of Mrs. Ashby’s heels had long faded down the hall, leaving only the muffled rhythm of my own heartbeat. I stood at the base of the grand staircase, staring upward into the dimness, waiting.
There it was again.
Three sharp, deliberate knocks. They seemed measured and patient, as though whoever, or whatever, madethem already knew I would come.
A chill swept down my spine. The air felt colder than before, thick with the faint scent of damp stone and old smoke.
I told myself to walk away. To go back to my chamber, lock the door, and wait for Sylum’s return.
But the sound came again.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I swallowed hard, gathering my skirts in one trembling hand as I began to climb the stairs. The higher I went, the quieter the manor seemed. Even the sigh of the wind through the eaves was gone, replaced by a suffocating stillness. I reached the landing and stood listening, the long corridor stretching before me like the throat of some great beast.
“Hello?” My voice sounded foreign, too loud, swallowed quickly by the dark. “Is someone there?”
No answer. Only the soft groan of the old timbers above.
I took another cautious step, then another, following the sound down the narrow passage until I stood before a tall, closed door.
