Rushbrooke End (Book 4)

Chapter 9

"A good library will never be too neat, or too dusty, because somebody will always be in it, taking books off the shelves and staying up late reading them." 

― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish

Lilly found herself lingering around the edges of the ballroom, scanning the guests shrewdly. She itched to return to the upstairs corridors and explore but a part of her, perhaps the rational part, told her that it may be unwise to do so. She was also a little scared of Lord Grimshaw, though she'd never admit it, and was reluctant to find out what he'd say if he found her snooping.

After ten minutes of just standing around however, she got restless and slipped into the corridor, fishing around for the candle she'd brought.

She lit it and started to creep up the stairs, the flickering light casting strange shadows on the wall.

She reached the second floor undetected and stole along the corridor, straining to hear anything. The noise of the party was the only thing she could hear so she went farther down the hall, peering into empty rooms.

She found nothing of interest until she reached the very last door. In here she found a large wardrobe and bed. On the bed were strewn bright coloured gowns of fine materials. Lilly stepped into the room, her brow furrowed as she took in the other feminine articles; jewellery scattered across the bedside table, a hairbrush full of, and it sent a cold shiver down Lilly's spine to see it, strands of honey coloured hair, the same colour of the ones that had been found in the forest.

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming her way. She blew out the candle and darted towards the wardrobe, stepping inside and shutting the door just as the someone came into the room.

Through the crack where the door hadn't fully closed, Lilly saw a young woman come into the room and shut the door behind her. She was short and slender and her hair was the same dark honey colour on the brush. It was now tied back in a messy plait. The more Lilly looked at her, the more uneasy she felt.

There was something off about the young woman, something Lilly couldn't quite place. She moved slowly, almost jerkily and she looked as if she were muttering things to herself. Her hands were never still, they twisted around themselves and she cracked her knuckles with a sickening crunch. The girl sat on the bed, shaking her head furiously before leaping back to her feet as if she'd been bitten and shoving all the dresses to the floor, wiping her hands on her skirts.

Lilly was almost paralyzed with fear but before anymore could happen the door of the room opened and a harried looking maid stepped into the room, her lips pursed in motherly disapproval.

"Miss Charlotte!" The maid spoke sharply. "Now what did I tell you about treating your clothes like that? Lord Grimshaw pays good money for them. Now stop it this instant!"

At any other time Lilly would have been shocked to see a maid speak like that. Now however, she was more scared of Charlotte. Something was very clearly wrong with her, though Lilly was at a lost to see what.

Now the maid was attempting to soothe Charlotte, speaking in low tones and stroking her hair. Charlotte nodded at something that was said and sat down shakily on the armchair in the corner of the room while the maid worked on unpinning her mistress' hair.

Lilly was began to feel incredibly uneasy; what if the maid opened the wardrobe? There was no way of telling how long she'd be trapped here. What if her family looked for her? What if they decided to leave? She cursed her own impulsiveness, wishing she'd never wandered into the room.

She was also incredibly curious. Now that she was certain Lord Grimshaw was hiding something she wanted to know more. Was this Lord Grimshaw's wife? Hidden away here in the attic in some hideous situation like Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason? It was almost too awful to think about.