I’d never seen the manor so dark before. Weak moonlight cast strange highlights over the painted walls and hung tapestries. It really was a beautiful manor, so different from the imposing austerity of Highmoor.
Every bit of architecture, from the sweeping beams acting as the skeleton bracing up the rest of the house down to the tiny screws used to keep the door hinges in place, were works of art. I stopped before a bas-relief, taking in every detail.
It was a field of wildflowers, carved into the wall with such depth that individual buds could be seen from all sides, perfect replicas of coneflowers and poppies and a dozen other blooms I couldn’t identify. I walked the relief slowly, trying to guess how long it must have taken the artist to create this one section of wall.
Off to the side, nearly hidden away in the gilded border, was a series of little bells with a wrinkled texture, almost like…
Almost like paper lanterns.
“Withania somnifera,” I exclaimed to the empty hall, delighted I’d remembered the entry I’d just read. “You don’t look sodangerous when you’re made out of marble,” I said, running my finger over their creased surface.
A little ways down the corridor came a soft click and sigh, like a door opening, and I froze, certain an early rising footman was about to stumble across me.
I glanced over my shoulder, ready to conjure up an excuse about why I was up so late, and stopped.
Ithadbeen a door that opened.
A very hidden door.
Its edges were jagged and misshapen, cut along the bits of wildflowers to conceal its presence. The door had been there all along, right in front of me.
Another secret passage!
I glanced back to the seemingly innocuous winter cherries and laughed. “Deception, indeed.”
The passage that lay past the door was dark, a gaping maw seemingly ready to swallow me whole. Feeling as though I were trespassing, I stuck my taper inside, trying to make out where this unexpected entry led. There was no staircase that I could see, only a narrow corridor, lined in thin lengths of wooden slats.
“Where do you go?” I asked, daring to peek inside. The hall ran longer than the light of my candle could illuminate, and after a moment’s pause, I stepped inside.
Immediately, the door swung shut, blending in so well with the inner wall, I was at a loss to guess how to open it. I traced over every inch of the space, waiting for the door to swing out once more.
It remained shut.
I was trapped.
“Stuck,” I said, trying to push down the wave of panic building within my chest. “You just need to see where this passage leads and then you can get out on the other end.”
I traveled slowly, not wanting to miss anything that might open another door. After several dozen yards, the hall came to a fork.
“This must run the whole length of the house,” I murmured, trying to visualize exactly where I was within the manor.
I chose the left turn.
It was wider, but far more crowded.
Three bookcases, towering from floor to ceiling, lined one side of the passageway. Each shelf was filled with old volumes and stacks of papers crammed in tight. I raised my candle, scanning the spines, but most of their aged ink had been rubbed away. Curiosity got the better of me and I set the candle down, grabbing the first book I saw.
I flipped through it and immediately understood why these books were kept hidden away from the open shelves of Chauntilalie’s library.
I turned another page, then another, blushing madly.
It was a book of illustrations, depicting acts of intimacy among an orgy of scantily clad people. Page after page showed flushed breasts and open mouths, terrifying erect phalluses, eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
Men fondled women as others gazed on, their eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Women kissed women, running their fingers down curves of exposed flesh, slipping inside each other with a dexterity that made me squirm. Men reached out, stroking other men’s…
I flipped the book on its side, trying to understand what exactly was happening in the drawing and snapped the bookclosed once I had. My heart raced with a strange, illicit thrill. I pushed the book back into its place on the shelf, feeling a hot stain spread across my chest.
Though I’d never so much as held anyone’s hand before coming to Chauntilalie, I had a vague understanding of what transpired behind closed doors. But I’d never dreamed it could be so…inventive.
