by Lindsey Duga
Next to her, Kat smothered a giggle, and Emily glared at her.
“It’s not my fault,” Kat declared haughtily. “You should be more careful. Now come on, don’t you want to see where we end up?”
To be honest, Emily didn’t much care anymore, but they’d already come this far. She felt she had to see it through.
As it turned out, the secret entrance led to a music room. Like the rest of the mansion, it was in a sore state. But because the large harp and grand piano were covered in sheets, Emily couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly maintained they were when she uncovered them.
Kat hopped up on the piano bench and immediately began to play a few notes. She wasn’t very good, but Emily could tell she’d had at least a few lessons. The tune was light and quick, an easy melody to remember and get stuck in your head.
“Do you want me to teach it to you?” Kat asked, sliding over and patting the spot on the bench beside her.
Emily had always wanted to learn how to play an instrument. Given the choice, she would have preferred a violin, but learning on a grand piano sounded equally exciting, so she slid on the bench next to Kat and watched the girl as she once again played the melody.
Kat was surprisingly patient as she taught Emily’s fingers to move in a pattern over the keys. She had just finished showing Emily one sequence when she suddenly froze and jumped off the bench, hurrying off toward the secret door.
Emily was just about to call after her but then heard pounding, hurried footsteps down the hall. In seconds, Miss Greer was there, red-faced and out of breath.
“Heavens! Miss Emily! What do you think you’re doing?”
Emily glanced behind her, but Kat had disappeared. Goodness, she was fast!
“I … I was just playing on the piano,” Emily said, gesturing to the piano before her.
Miss Greer pulled Emily off the bench, placed the lid over the keys, and grabbed the sheet off the floor, draping it over the beautiful instrument. “Well, none of that, you hear? It’s a miracle Mrs. Thornton didn’t hear you. It would upset her deeply.”
“Does she not like music?” Emily asked, simultaneously wondering why they would have a piano at all, in that case.
“It’s not that, it’s …” Miss Greer stopped, frowning severely. “Never you mind. Just go freshen up, it’s about teatime and— My word! What happened to your new dress?” she exclaimed, pointing to the large rip in the lavender fabric.
Emily’s face and neck flushed with heat. “It was an accident,” she mumbled, scuffing her shoe into the carpet.
“Well, I should hope you wouldn’t do that on purpose,” Miss Greer sighed. “It’s fine, dear. Just lay it out tonight and I’ll find time to repair it.”
Emily looked up at her, too embarrassed and guilty to look hopeful or relieved. “Really?”
“Yes, dear. Just be more careful next time.” Miss Greer patted Emily’s head. “And no more piano.”
Emily nodded, but she couldn’t help but begin to keep a running tally of all the things that were now forbidden: the mysterious room, blackberries, and music. Still, she shouldn’t complain. Blackthorn Manor was a palace compared to Evanshire’s. She just hated to keep upsetting her new family.
She would stay in and read a book tomorrow. Surely she couldn’t get in trouble with that.
The next morning she had breakfast with Mr. Thornton in the fancy dining room, but Emily was almost too nervous to eat anything of real substance. She nibbled on some dry toast and porridge, unable to remember anything but Mr. Thornton’s stern look from the night she’d mentioned the blackberries.
Of course, there was something else on her mind that morning as well. She’d heard some strange noises above her head last night and just knew that they were coming from the forbidden room above her bedroom. It had taken her so long to fall asleep that she had even considered going into the Thorntons’ room to tell them.
In the end she had fallen asleep, but she lit more candles than necessary to keep the encroaching darkness at bay.
Now she sat at breakfast, stirring her porridge but not really eating it, and thinking about the room directly above hers. Even if she wanted to disobey the Thorntons and go inside—which she did not—there was no way for her to go in. She didn’t have the key. It would be best to just forget about it. There was nothing to be done.
But why couldn’t she?
“Is Mrs. Thornton not coming down for breakfast, sir?” Miss Greer asked as she poured another splash of milk into Mr. Thornton’s tea.
“No, I’m afraid Charlotte is still not feeling well,” he replied.
Mrs. Thornton was in her bedroom, and it seemed that Mr. Thornton was very worried about her. He didn’t say much to Emily the whole morning. In fact, the only time he really looked at her was when she timidly asked if it was all right if she be excused.
Blinking at her, as if just noticing she was there, Mr. Thornton gave her a small nod. “Yes, my dear. What will you be doing today?”
Hoping that reading a book wouldn’t upset him, like blackberry picking had upset his wife, or playing the piano had upset Miss Greer, she answered, “I was going to read a book.”
At this, Mr. Thornton straightened, his eyes suddenly growing bright with interest. “A book, you say? Which one?”
Emily shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I don’t know where to look for any.”
“Well, come then,” he said, spirits slightly brighter. “I’ll take you to my study and we’ll pick out a good one.”
Abandoning his hardly touched breakfast, Mr. Thornton moved around the table, took Emily’s hand, and together they climbed the staircase to the second floor and turned toward the east wing—a part Emily had not yet had the time to explore. Archie trotted along behind them, having been snoozing under Emily’s chair during breakfast. She was grateful that Mr. Thornton seemed not to pay the dog any mind at all. She even noticed that when Archie had sneezed under her chair, her new father had simply blinked a few times, checked under the table, and smiled with what looked like a hint of affection.
Pausing at the simple-looking door closest to the staircase, Mr. Thornton pulled out his own ring of keys and inserted a smaller brass one into the lock. The door swung open to reveal a homey study in a much better state than the rest of the mansion. It was as if Miss Greer made sure to keep this room clean more than the rest.
Probably because Mr. Thornton spends so much time in it, Emily reasoned.
Mr. Thornton strode immediately to a bookshelf and scanned the leather-bound titles. “Ah, here we go. Try this one.” He handed Emily a maroon book with a small, round gold emblem on the cover. She opened it to read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll on the title page.
“Have you read it before?” Mr. Thornton asked.
Emily shook her head while already opening up the book to the first page. Miss Evanshire didn’t let the girls read any fiction, or anything other than religious texts, for that matter.
She really was a soulless old bat, Emily thought bitterly.
“It’s very good. I think you’ll rather enjoy it. I was always trying to get her to read, but she …” Mr. Thornton stopped and frowned, rubbing his jaw, his eyes suddenly losing their light. “Well, anyway. Give it a go, Emily.”
Emily nodded eagerly. “I will!” She turned to go with Archie, but Mr. Thornton placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re welcome to read here, if you wish.” He gestured to a large red chintz armchair.
Thrilled at being able to stay with him, Emily hopped up onto the chair while Archie curled at her feet. She began to read diligently, but every once in a while she would sneak peeks at her new father as he sat at his office desk, scribbling away with a fountain pen.
Emily reveled in the comfortable silence. In fact, she realized that time was passing only when Miss Greer came in with the tea. And even though very little was said while Miss Greer poured the hot concoction, Emily received a few soft smiles from Mr. Thornto
n. They left her feeling warm inside—and it wasn’t from the tea in her belly. She was sure of it.
On the outside however, she was freezing.
The cold chill had happened suddenly and without warning. The draft seemed to fall on her as swiftly as a blizzard in the dead of winter. Her hands curled around the book in her lap, and she tried to stop her teeth from chattering.
Hoping more of the tea would get her warm again, she picked up the cup and brought it to her lips. As she was lowering it back down, something suddenly shoved her elbow, splashing her hot tea everywhere—on the front of her dress, on the arms of her chair, and … on the lovely book Mr. Thornton had given to her.
“Emily!” Mr. Thornton cried as soon as he realized what had happened. He sprang from his desk and ran to his daughter’s side. “Are you all right? Did the hot water burn you?”
But Emily didn’t respond. Her hands were shaking, and her breath was frozen in her chest. Had … had something shoved her? Was she just that clumsy? Whatever had happened, it had absolutely ruined the book in her lap. Tears welled in her eyes. It was just like the rip in her dress all over again. Why was this happening to her? A few droplets trickled down her cheeks as fear, frustration, and disappointment warred inside her chest.
“It’s your fault,” a voice whispered.
For a moment, Emily couldn’t tell if the words had been inside her head or next to her ear. They were so harsh and angry and frightening that Emily sucked in a breath, making more tears splash onto the already ruined pages.
“I-I’m so sorry, P-Papa,” Emily stuttered, though whether her teeth chattered because of the cold or fear that she had once again upset her new father, she didn’t know. “I didn’t mean to soil the book.”
Swiftly, Mr. Thornton lifted the novel off her lap and tugged her off the chair.
“No need to worry, my girl.” He ruffled her hair gently and took her hand. “Shall we go outside and have a little bit of fun? You coming, boy?”
To her surprise, Mr. Thornton patted Archie on the head and he led both of them out of his study, down the hall, and out into the bright afternoon sunlight, the warmth of the sun washing away the cold chill in Emily’s bones.
It had been the happiest day Emily could ever remember having. She tried to think back to her days at Evanshire’s Home for Neglected Girls to see if there was one that could compare, but she honestly couldn’t think of any. Not that she tried very hard. The days before Blackthorn Manor and her new parents were like those from another lifetime, memories layered in bruises and dripping with tears.
Exhausted, but full and content from Miss Greer’s supper of beef stew with dumplings, Emily crawled into bed after changing into a pale pink nightgown that Mrs. Thornton—Mama, Emily corrected herself—had given her.
After Papa had taken Emily outside, they played fetch with Archie until it was late in the afternoon and Miss Greer had to come and call them in for supper. To both Emily’s and her father’s surprise and delight, Mrs. Thornton had joined them at supper and seemed to be in a much more chipper mood. She even went up to Emily’s bedroom and spent the next hour going through all of Emily’s new clothes. She hadn’t noticed the lavender dress was missing, and Emily guessed it was because there were so many others to look at. It was then that Mrs. Thornton had picked out the pink nightgown and said that it looked nice with Emily’s dark hair.
It was just a nightgown, but Emily loved putting it on and knowing that Mrs. Thornton had been thinking of her when she bought it.
A whine from the right side of her bed made Emily giggle and roll to the edge to lean down. She was greeted by a lick on her nose.
“Sorry, boy,” she said, scratching behind Archie’s ears, “you know you can’t sleep up here. Miss Greer would have a fit if she found dog hair in the sheets.” It made Emily laugh again to think of Miss Greer’s round face going red and shaking the sheets over Emily’s head as she launched into an already familiar complaint: “As if I don’t have enough work to do already, Miss Emily! Now I must wash for the dog as well?”
A light knock, knock on the door interrupted her imagination. Emily shot up in bed. Was it Miss Greer? Or maybe, dare she believe it, her new mother come to tuck her in? She wasn’t sure if real parents did that at her age, but she dearly hoped so.
She leaped out of her large bed and ran to the door, swinging it wide open for …
Kat?
An odd jump of nerves in her stomach made Emily flinch at the idea that Kat really did know this manor far too well for her own good. Breaking and entering was a crime, wasn’t it?
Don’t be silly, Emily! She’s your friend.
Kat stood in the threshold with a strangely cold expression on her face.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Emily whispered, leaning out slightly to look up and down the hall. “Come in straightaway!”
While Emily had guessed that Kat’s family didn’t much care what she did with her time, considering she spent so much of it at the estate, she was still surprised to see her so late in the evening. But regardless of how Kat’s family may or may not have felt about her being in the manor at such an hour, Emily was sure her own parents would not approve.
“I thought we could play a game of hide-and-seek,” Kat said, her pale lips turning upward into a hint of a smile.
No, more like a smirk, Emily thought nervously. She’d seen that look before, when Agatha would swipe an extra piece of bread and then blame it on Emily.
“But …” Emily glanced back at her empty bed. “It’s a little late. Maybe tomorrow morning?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Kat stepped forward so fast, Emily could’ve sworn she felt a cold breeze tickle her skin. The girl narrowed her eyes at Emily, her lips twisting into a tight scowl. “I didn’t get to play with you all day because you were quite busy.” Her words were coated in anger, but Emily sensed a hint of hurt under them. “All I’m asking for is a quick game before bedtime. Am I your friend or not?”
“Of course you are. I just meant that …” Emily said, taking a tentative step backward, away from the intensity of Kat’s gaze. “All right. I suppose one game wouldn’t hurt.”
Kat’s scowl vanished, transforming into a pretty smile—the same smile that had drawn Emily to her in the first place.
“Don’t worry, it won’t be the whole house. That would take ages. I know just where to play. Follow me!” She threw her arm out in a big, expressive gesture and began skipping down the hall, her gold curls bouncing as she went.
Hesitating, but only for a moment, Emily turned back inside her room and grabbed her key ring off the nightstand. “Come on, Archie,” she said, clicking her tongue for her friend to follow. For a moment, she wondered if Archie would come, since he didn’t seem to like the other girl much. But this time, the faithful canine was already by the door, as if he was waiting for her. Running her hand over his head, she hurried after Kat, and Archie trotted dutifully behind.
By the time Emily caught up to Kat, they were on the third floor. Kat had stopped at a door with a large brass handle and lock, bigger and grander than the doors to the other rooms Emily had encountered so far. Though, to be fair, she hadn’t explored much of the third floor yet.
While Emily inspected the keys to decide which one to use, Kat tapped her foot impatiently, finally pointing to a large brass one in the middle of the ring. “It’s that one.”
Emily wasn’t surprised to find that the key fit perfectly. She wasn’t sure how, but Kat knew everything about Blackthorn—even the right keys to the right locks.
They entered the room and Emily let a gasp escape her lips upon seeing stacks and stacks of beautiful leather-bound books. They were all kinds of colors and sizes. She couldn’t believe that the Thorntons had such a collection. An entire library she could explore! She guessed Mr. Thornton kept his favorites in his study.
Feeling Kat watching her expectantly, Emily grinned in response. “Good idea.”
Kat smil
ed again. This time the smile was halfway between a smirk and something genuine. Maybe Kat already had a hiding spot in mind.
Sure enough, Kat darted off into the stacks. “You’re it!” she called over her shoulder.
Emily was fine with that, not that it would have mattered to the bossy Kat. It would give her time to look at all the different books. As Archie sniffed around the corners of the large bookcases, his overeager nose getting coated in dust and making him sneeze, Emily placed her hands over her eyes and counted aloud. Her voice echoed in the vast library.
“Ready or not, here I come!” Her words were met with complete silence—a silence that sounded more hollow and ominous than before.
Emily shook the feeling off. It was the same as when she’d first started exploring the estate. Nothing but her imagination. Besides Archie, her imagination had been her only companion in the long lonely years at Evanshire’s. It had to be that she just wasn’t used to a big old house yet.
Yes, that had to be it.
Despite her logic, Emily found herself holding her breath as she moved through the rows of dusty, neglected books. They were big, tall things. Imposing, like so many other objects in this house. Shadows stretched across the floor and merged into one another, forming a blanket of darkness. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the only light was from the full moon outside the window that night.
It really was that late.
Just find Kat, Emily thought to herself. But she was frustrated by the lack of distinct hiding places within the library. Why had Kat picked such a room?
No longer excited about seeing more of the library, Emily moved faster, her bare feet padding silently over the rug.
The lack of sound was disturbing. She hadn’t noticed how quiet it had gotten, but now she felt like she couldn’t even hear her own breathing. It was as if the shadows had sucked all the noise from the air, bringing it into their lair of darkness.
Then came the cold.
At first, Emily didn’t notice much difference. She’d wandered out into the huge drafty house without her robe in only a nightgown and barefoot. Certainly she was bound to get a little chilly, but as the seconds ticked by, the temperature dropped. It dropped so much that when she moved her fingers they actually hurt, like her bones and muscles didn’t want to cooperate in the frigid air.
