by Blythe Baker
I returned to my room to dress for dinner. I changed out of my riding clothes and into a blue satin gown with a wide embroidered waist and box collar, a lace headband, and a pair of black pumps.
Everyone had taken their seats and begun to eat when Lord and Lady Drummond made an unexpected appearance at the start of dinner. They both looked pale and thin, but they took their places at the far ends of the table and put on brave faces for their guests.
“Please, eat,” Lord Drummond instructed with a sad smile.
Lady Drummond didn’t say anything, but my mother stayed near her throughout the meal, winking at me once from across the table.
The guests obeyed and ate, though there was little conversation. Vivian and her brother talked quietly to one another and my mother occasionally whispered in Lady Drummond’s ear, but otherwise, the table was silent.
No one knew how to behave in front of the Drummonds. Obviously, they were devastated by the loss of their son, so having any conversation where people would laugh or smile felt disrespectful. Even the servants who were bringing out different courses and filling glasses looked nervous as they flitted around the room.
The red-haired maid, Hester, stared longingly at the Drummonds as though she wanted to speak with them, though she never did. When she wasn’t looking at Lord and Lady Drummond, she turned her eyes to me. A few times, I caught her staring, and she waited a few seconds before looking away. It felt as though she was trying to tell me something, though I didn’t know what.
At the end of the meal, Lord and Lady Drummond thanked their guests and then went immediately back upstairs. My mother pulled me into a quick embrace before she followed Lady Drummond.
As soon as I was alone, I scanned the room for Hester. She was standing next to the wall, waiting for the table to clear of guests so she could move in with the other servants and clear the table. But once again, she met my gaze and held it.
I took a step towards her, but that was all I managed before Samuel Rigby moved into my path.
“Miss Beckingham,” he said solemnly.
I took a step backwards, surprised by his sudden appearance and that he wanted to speak with me at all after our conversation the day before on the lawn.
“Mr. Rigby.” I folded my gloved hands in front of me, fidgeting with the lace at my wrists. “Did you enjoy the hunt today?”
“Are you still investigating Alastair’s death?” he asked suddenly, ignoring my question.
My mouth fell open, and I tried to find the words. They came out in a jumble. “I was not—have not been—investigating anything. I only had a few questions for you. That is all.”
Samuel pursed his lips together, his mustache twitching at one corner. “Well, as we’ve already established, I will not be answering any more questions. However, I did wish to mention to you—or to anyone who might be interested in the matter—that there is a portion of the castle rarely travelled by anyone in the household.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Lady Drummond offered me a tour the day I arrived.”
He nodded. “And there is a room at the far end of the corridor upstairs that leads to another level. A space that has stood unused and forgotten. Centuries’ worth of secrets lie up there.”
“What are you saying, Mr. Rigby?” I asked, a chill moving down my spine.
He shrugged innocently, smiling and nodding as Vivian Barry passed by us on her way into the sitting room. “I’m simply saying that if anyone was searching for secrets around here, they would be wise to look there. But, of course, you’ve said you are not searching for anything, so you are probably not interested.”
“No, not especially,” I said quickly. “But thank you for the information regardless.”
He tipped his head and walked calmly into the sitting room, leaving me to wonder what had just happened.
Coming out of my surprised daze, I looked around for Hester again, but she was gone, as were most of the table settings. She would be busy in the kitchens for the rest of the night, and I knew I would have to wait until the morning to speak with her. If she had actually wanted to speak with me at all.
So, I moved into the sitting room and did my best to partake in the conversations happening there. My mind, however, was far above the space that I and my fellow guests inhabited, lingering in a mysterious place on the upper floor.
No one seemed keen to linger in the hall where Alastair had died, so I did not need to wait long after everyone retired to their rooms for the evening to sneak out of my own.
As I slipped out my bedroom door, I wondered at my own boldness. Everything about the information Mr. Rigby had given me spoke of a trap, an ideal opportunity for him, if he was in fact the killer, to lure me to a lonely part of the castle and end my life. And yet, surely he would not be so clumsy, so obvious if he was truly a threat? No, the more I thought back on our brief exchange, the more I wondered if he was trying to give me a hint about someone else. But if that were the case, why would he not simply tell me whatever he knew or suspected? It was this confusion and lack of answers that compelled me to go.
Except for one flickering light every ten paces, the rest of the lamps in the hallway had been doused, plunging everything into murky shadows. I’d brought a small candle from my room, but it did little to dispel the gloom, and I had to place my feet carefully on the floor to avoid stumbling over uneven spots in the stone or tripping over the corners of tables.
In telling me about the secret portion of the castle, Samuel had nodded his head towards the east wing, so I followed that corridor to the end and then found a wooden door that looked different from the others. It was made of a heavier wood with large iron hinges and an iron doorknob.
I turned the knob slowly, wincing when it let out a low squeal—probably from disuse—and then pushed it open.
I was met with the sight of stone steps, the edges soft and rounded from time. I mounted them quickly, pulling the door closed behind me so no one else would see it open and become suspicious.
Immediately, it felt as though I was in a different castle altogether. The stairwell was noticeably cooler than the rest of the house and it smelled damp and earthy, as though I was moving deep into a cellar, rather than walking an upper level.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I held my candle out in front of me, hoping to illuminate the space, but I was met with nothing but blackness.
Instinct caused me to momentarily search for a light before I remembered the castle had no electricity. My small candle would be the only illumination I would find, and I wasn’t certain it was enough to see anything.
I took small, careful steps across the stone, noting the thick layer of dust that clouded around my feet with every movement, and swiveled my head from side to side as my eyes adjusted slightly to the darkness.
I began to make out the rough shape of the room. It appeared to be a kind of wide hallway—similar in size to the corridor on the second floor below, but there were no doors leading to connecting rooms or windows allowing in moonlight. Just endless stone walls stretching into the darkness.
As I walked, I kicked loose stones that slid across the floor and made me jump. Then, there were the skittering sounds not caused by me. I tried not to think about the rats or other animals that might be hiding up here with all of the secrets Samuel Rigby alluded to, but I couldn’t help but imagine them. In fact, it was all I could think about.
Until, of course, I saw a flash of movement at the end of the hallway.
It was quick. Nothing more than a whisper of movement. But it had been white.
My heart thundered in my chest, beating against my ribcage until I thought it would burst.
From the moment I’d heard of Alastair’s final words, I’d never once considered the possibility that his words about the weeping woman in white could have actually been in reference to the spirit herself.
Now, however, alone in the strange space, she felt more real to me than anything else.
Sadness leached out o
f the stones, filling me with the grief the woman from the legend must have felt when her heart was broken. I could practically hear her wailing. But rather than run in fear, I stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, trying to make out any movement.
Then, a door slammed.
I didn’t know where it came from or how far away it was, but it meant I wasn’t alone. Whether in the presence of a person or a spirit, I didn’t know, but I knew I had to get out of there as soon as possible.
So, throwing all caution aside, I turned and sprinted back in the direction I’d come from.
Except, I hit a wall.
The palms of my hands took most of the impact, but I still stumbled backwards, grunting from the unexpected barrier. Then, I spun around, but I could no longer tell which direction I’d come from.
Had I hit the wall to the right or my left? If I took another step, would I be moving towards the slamming of the door I’d heard or further away?
The only sound seemed to be the rush of blood in my ears.
Then, I heard footsteps.
They were soft at first, quiet enough that I could have mistaken them for the scurrying of a small animal or the wind. But as they grew louder, the sound was too recognizable. Too obvious.
As they grew closer and closer, I shrunk back against the wall, making myself as small as I possibly could.
Suddenly, there was a blaze of light.
I was blinded, overwhelmed by the sudden brightness, and I screamed.
For a moment, I didn’t recognize the scream as my own. It sounded so terrified, so foreign.
Then, there were hands on my arms, and I thrashed, trying to pull away. Until I heard his voice.
“Alice, stop! Before you kill us both.”
I froze and held a hand to my eyes, trying to shield away some of the light.
The light in front of me shifted, and I saw a silhouette of a tall, narrow man. I looked up at him, blinking from the brightness.
“Gordon?”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me roughly away from the wall, and I screamed again.
15
“Stop thrashing before you fall,” he said, holding me against his chest.
“Fall?” My terror had given way to confusion.
Gordon took a few steps backwards, carrying me with him, and then held out his light. The wall where I’d just been standing was illuminated, and I could see a large dark stain on the floor. I leaned down to get a better look, and Gordon pulled me back.
“The floor could give way any moment,” he said. “We need to get out of here.”
“The floor?”
Gordon kept a firm hand around my arm as he dragged me to the center of the hallway. “This old section of the castle is falling apart. It’s been abandoned for years and is little more than a ruin. What are you even doing here, Alice?”
I could see the sunken parts of the floor now. In the dark, I’d thought the floor was rough and uneven, but now I realized it was actually sagging.
I could have fallen to my death.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling as far away from him as his hold on me would allow. “How did you find me?”
“I didn’t. Hester did.”
I shook my head, confused. “Hester?”
He dragged me a few more steps down the corridor, careful to avoid the worst parts of the floor, and I followed his lead. “I saw her walking towards the door to the stairs, and when I asked what she was doing, she said she saw you come up here. She was going to come get you herself, but I decided to risk my own life instead.”
I was still too flustered to fully understand what had happened. I looked back over my shoulder, half-expecting to see the weeping woman in white waiting in the middle of the hallway for me. There was nothing. Just darkness.
“There should be a warning sign or something,” I said.
“Ordinarily our guests don’t go exploring the castle on their own at night,” Gordon said harshly. “And usually there is a sign warning visitors away from this wing. Maybe it was moved during the police investigation. I’m not sure. But we’ll definitely be replacing it now that we almost had two deaths in the castle in the same week.”
I debated telling Gordon that Samuel Rigby had sent me to this part of the castle. Surely, as a historian and author, he would have known this portion of Druiminn Castle was falling to waste. Still, I couldn’t quite believe he would send me to my death on purpose.
But even if he had, I’d vowed to handle the investigation on my own. And Gordon had enough to deal with, clearly, without me offering up my unsolicited theories. So, I stayed quiet and followed him down the stairs.
When we got to the hallway, Hester was nowhere to be found. I was surprised she hadn’t waited to make sure we’d made it down safely. But then again, I couldn’t exactly blame her. If Gordon had been as angry when he’d left her in the hallway as he was now that we had returned safely, I would have run if I was her, too.
Gordon escorted me all the way down the hallway to my room. He waited until I’d bid him goodnight and closed the door before finally walking away and going back to his own room. I listened to his footsteps grow more and more quiet. And then, eventually, there came the soft thud of his door closing.
I didn’t sleep.
The brief flash of white I’d seen at the end of the hallway appeared every time I closed my eyes. And the few times I dared to drift to sleep, the woman in white was waiting in my dreams.
So, I pulled a dressing gown tightly around my shoulders and paced my room, waiting for morning. When it finally came, I dressed quickly in a dark blue skirt and cream blouse, and long brown shawl before meeting my mother in the corridor for breakfast.
“Alice,” she said, knitting her brows together. “You look exhausted. Are you feeling well?”
“Just nightmares,” I said.
I could tell by the sad look in her eyes that she thought my nightmares had something to do with Alastair’s death. And in a roundabout way, they did. Though, not in exactly the way she expected.
I didn’t tell her about my excursion the night before. About how Samuel had sent me up to the most dangerous part of the castle, possibly so I would die. I didn’t tell her because I wasn’t yet certain of Samuel Rigby’s motives. I needed more evidence.
And when we walked into the dining room for breakfast, I got it.
Hester was frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, clutching a tray of freshly cut fruit. And standing in front of her with a finger pointed at her chest was Samuel Rigby.
As soon as the two of them heard us approach, Samuel backed away and stood tall, gesturing for Hester to continue readying the sideboard for the guests. Hester did just that, though I noticed her face was pale and her hands shook as she worked.
Hester had wanted to speak to me last night after dinner, but Samuel had interrupted her. Then, she had followed me to the stairs that led to the crumbling part of the castle where Samuel had sent me.
For reasons I didn’t understand, Hester was trying to warn me of something, and clearly, Samuel didn’t want her to.
The Barry siblings arrived for breakfast moments later, followed by Gordon Drummond and then Lord and Lady Drummond. Vivian took the seat next to Samuel, capturing his attention, and my mother moved to greet the Drummonds. At that same moment, Hester reappeared with another pitcher of fresh orange juice.
I stood at once and met her at the sideboard.
“Hester,” I whispered, squeezing various fruits as if testing them for ripeness.
The maid turned to me, looking surprised. “Yes, Miss?”
“Thank you for sending Gordon for me last night,” I said softly. “I might not have found my way safely out without him.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Of course, Miss.”
She moved as if trying to leave, but I hissed for her to wait. “Why were you following me? Did you have something to tell me?”
Hester look
ed nervously over her shoulder, and then shook her head. “It was simple luck, Miss. Good fortune.”
“I think it was more than that.”
“It wasn’t,” she said sharply. Then, she glanced towards the table, and I followed her gaze to see Samuel Rigby carefully watching the two of us. Hester snapped her attention back to her work and mumbled under her breath. “It was lucky, but I’m not sure you’ll get so lucky again. If you have any concern for your life, you’ll stay away from that part of the house.”
Before I could say anything, Hester hurried out of the room and didn’t come back again.
The activities available to the guests were growing stale and a general sense of discontent was starting to brew.
Charles Barry looked even more miserable than when he and his sister had arrived, which I didn’t think could be possible, and his sister, Vivian, had apparently decided that romancing Samuel Rigby would be the best use of her time.
“Samuel,” she said, brushing his shoulder and laughing. “You are too bad. Really, you can’t go about saying things like that.”
Gordon cleared his throat. “Please, Mr. Rigby. Do share your comment with the rest of us. I could use a laugh.”
“No, no. He can’t,” Vivian insisted, dropping into another fit of giggles.
Samuel Rigby simply pinched his lips together and smiled.
And the morning turned to afternoon much in that manner.
No one seemed to know what to do with themselves. There were books to read, but sitting quietly allowed too much time for thought. And there was talk of going out for some air, but before anyone could gather the energy, the sky opened up, drenching the grounds in rain. After that, Vivian wouldn’t hear of muddying her shoes.
After lunch, Gordon retreated to his mother’s room where my own mother was still spending most of her time, and Vivian, Samuel, and Charles took up a game of cards. They invited me to play, but I saw a window of opportunity that I could not refuse.
