The following morning, at seven a.m. precisely, Sadie’s hourglass tipped over, causing a marble to become unbalanced and roll down a length of tubing, knocking over a bottle of water that poured out onto a piece of paper, which quickly dissolved, causing the spring-loaded cords attached to the bed curtains to retract quickly, flooding April’s bed with the kind of bright, clear sunshine that only comes after a storm.
“Do you love it?” Sadie’s face was inches away from April’s nose. “It’s—”
“One of your own inventions?” April guessed as she pushed herself upright and looked around.
Sadie was already dressed, and she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, saying, “It’s your first day! Are you excited? You should be excited. I’m so excited. Aren’t you?”
“Soooo excited,” April lied, because in truth, all April wanted to do was go back to sleep. She’d been having a wonderful dream where she’d found a second jeweled box and this time the key fit. She was just about to throw open the lid and reveal all the treasure, but now April would never know how it was supposed to end.
“You’re going to have such a good day,” Sadie told her. “Smithers is going to give you tests!”
For a moment, April was absolutely certain she’d misheard her. But, no, Sadie was practically vibrating with glee. And envy.
“You’ll get assessed on everything—reading, math, science. How’s your French?” Sadie asked, deadly serious.
“I’m fluent in fry,” April told her, and it took Sadie a moment to realize April was joking.
“You’ll do great,” Sadie said. “Don’t be nervous.”
“I’m not,” April said, and Sadie stopped smiling.
“Oh. Well, maybe be a little bit nervous.”
And after that, April was.
Sadie had to rush off to the kitchen because she had a big surprise planned for breakfast (Sadie’s words). Violet was already gone—probably off somewhere with Tim—which left April to make her way downstairs alone. Which was exactly how April liked it.
On some level, April knew that the key wasn’t still hot from the fire. But it felt like it was. She could feel it underneath her shirt, burning her skin and making her sweat. She wondered if it might leave a scar. But, honestly, April would have been okay with that. She would have been okay with anything if it brought her one step closer to her mother.
And she was getting closer—she had to be! After all, April had a key with the Winterborne crest, and she was now living in a whole mansion full of Winterborne crests!
April had a key. Which meant that all April needed was a lock.
But Sadie had said that Winterborne House was thousands of square feet, so April needed some kind of plan. A strategy. A blueprint and a list. Maybe Smithers had an archive of all the locked things in the mansion? But he probably wouldn’t give it to her unless he was hypnotized or something.
(Note to self: research butler hypnotization.)
Really, April was starting to think that maybe she was just going to have to search every room on every floor until she either found what her key opened or died of old age. Whichever came first.
So April headed for the first floor because that seemed an obvious place to start. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard it.
“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you.”
The voice was small. And close. And had a funny-sounding accent that April couldn’t quite place. For a second, it seemed like maybe the people in the paintings were talking, but April wasn’t frightened. She was just confused as she stood in the wide, dim hallway and said, “Hello?”
“You must be the new girl. Or one of ’em, I reckon. Well, don’t let me stop you, love, if you want to go down, but take my word for it, you can see better from up here.”
“Um . . . who are you?” April looked around. “And . . . um . . . where are you?”
Then the voice laughed. “I’m up here. On the floor,” it said, which didn’t make even a little bit of sense to April, but as she inched toward the curving staircase and looked up, she saw a boy lying on his stomach, looking through the banister at the foyer down below.
Without realizing it, April started to climb, moving slowly on the old steps.
“I’m Colin. And you’re April, I’m guessing,” the boy said with a wink. “Welcome to Winterborne House.”
Then he rolled back onto his stomach and peered through the banister. April wasn’t really thinking as she dropped to the soft, plush carpet beside him.
“Where are you from?”
“All ’round. But me mum’s from London. That’s why I talk funny. Except where I’m from, you’d be the funny-talking one now, wouldn’t ya?”
April supposed he had a point. But the most interesting thing about Colin wasn’t that he had an accent. No. It was that he also had a mother.
She actually looked around, as if expecting the woman to show up at any moment, but he turned back to the foyer and the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching,” he said. “And waiting.”
“For what?” April asked.
“Haven’t you heard?” he asked, his eyes getting wide. “They’ve found Gabriel Winterborne.”