It looked like a funeral parlor. Every ponderous piece of furniture was made of time-blackened oak or covered in bloodred fabric, and everywhere I looked, dead animals stared back at me. A stuffed ferret frolicked on the mantelpiece, a monkey crouched rigidly atop the wardrobe, and a flock of silent songbirds perched coyly in a glass dome on the dressing table. Reginald, I knew, would be appalled.
The fire crackling in the tiled hearth only made matters worse. The monkey’s shadow quivered ominously on the ceiling, the songbirds’ eyes glittered pitifully, and the ferret’s fur gleamed in a grotesque parody of good health. The furniture’s carved figures seemed to writhe in the firelight, and the crimson damask bedcover glistened like a spreading pool of blood. I could easily picture a hollow-cheeked cadaver lying in state on the canopied four-poster. It was harder to imagine me lying there.
I forced myself to step into the room and stand before the fire. The heat was so oppressive, the room’s decor so claustrophobic, that a wave of nausea rocked me and I sank, wobbly-kneed, onto the red velvet fainting couch.
“Your bath is running.” Nicole bustled into the room and opened the wardrobe. “I’ve put some of my things in here for you—normal things, not vintage clothing. I wouldn’t dream of imposing Jared’s taste on you.”
“Thanks.” I put a hand to my damp forehead. “Ruffles don’t really suit me. It’s like spraying whipped cream on a horse.”
“Nonsense,” Nicole exclaimed. “You’ve a lovely figure.” She gazed at me expectantly. “Do you like your room?”
Nothing warms a mother’s heart more than being told she has a lovely figure. I carefully swallowed the absolute truth and replied with a close approximation. “It’s stunning. Were the stuffed animals always in it?”
“No,” Nicole said. “Jared brought them up from the study as a finishing touch. We think the room must have been used as a nursery at one time. It’s the only way we can explain the bars.” She crossed to the windows and pulled the heavy drapes aside, revealing a row of stout iron bars set four inches apart in the stone sill.
The barred windows and the lifeless animals suggested a zoo, but the words that came to my mind were: a prison. I must have spoken the words aloud, because Nicole shook her head.
“The dungeons are down below,” she told me. “Jared plans to use them as an annex to the wine cellar, once we clear them of rubbish.”
“You have dungeons?” I said weakly.
“What would a castle be without a dungeon? My great-grandfather, Josiah Byrd, built Wyrdhurst, and he didn’t believe in half-measures.” Nicole peered past the bars. “We would have had a drawbridge and a moat if the workers hadn’t gone away to the war.”
A haze rose before my eyes. Despite the heat, my teeth began to chatter. I was about to ask Nicole to call for Dr. MacEwan when a pair of black button eyes twinkled at me from the bedside table.
“Teddy,” I whispered.
Nicole followed my gaze. “His name’s Major Ted,” she told me. “He’s been in the family for donkey’s years. Uncle Dickie gave him to me when I was very small. I thought you might enjoy his company.”
Major Ted was a toffee-colored bear costumed in the khaki field uniform and stiff, high-peaked hat of a British army officer. The jodhpurs, puttees, and flared tunic with its brass buttons were vintage World War I, as were the monocle and the brown leather strap running slantwise from shoulder to belt. The monocle was held in place—rather brutally, in my opinion—with a pin.
Nicole looked at me uncertainly. “Jared thought it a bit childish, but I—”
“It’s not childish,” I said. “Teddy’s wonderful.”
“Major Ted,” Nicole corrected gently. She still looked concerned. “You don’t seem at all well, Lori.”
“I just need to get out of this room,” I muttered, “and into a hot bath,” I added hastily, when I saw Nicole flinch. “I’m really looking forward to a good soak.”
“You know where to find it.” The young woman gestured toward a telephone on the dressing table. “Ring zero-five when you’re ready. Mrs. Hatch will show you the way to the dining room.”
I nodded silently, unwilling to tear my gaze from Major Ted’s. Teddy was the only hint of normalcy in the room, and when Nicole had gone, I walked unsteadily to the bedside table and clasped the uniformed bear in my arms.
“You’re not Reginald,” I murmured, removing the offending monocle. “But you’ll do.”
The bath, the clean clothes, and Teddy’s comforting presence made me feel almost human. A hearty breakfast far away from the horrible red room would, I firmly believed, finish the job. I pulled on the fawn slacks, nut-brown lambswool sweater, and soft leather slippers provided by my hostess and decided that I could do without Mrs. Hatch’s services.
I didn’t need anyone’s help to find the dining room. All I had to do was follow my nose. The mouthwatering aroma of frying bacon drew me down the main staircase to the door beside the gong in the entrance hall. I was reaching for the knob when I heard Nicole’s voice coming from inside the room. She sounded upset.
“Oh, Jared, must you go? You know how I hate staying on here without you.”
“You won’t be alone this time.” Jared’s bass rumble came through clearly to the entrance hall. “Mrs. Willis will be here to keep you company.”
“But will she stay the whole week?” Nicole fretted. “She seemed ill-at-ease in the red room. If she decides to cut her visit short, I’m leaving. After what happened last time, I refuse—”
“How often do I have to tell you that it was all in your head, my dear? Old houses make noises. You must simply accustom yourself to them.”
“But it wasn’t just the noises, Jared. It was the—” Nicole fell silent, and when she spoke again, her tone of voice had changed. “Yes, Hatch, the kidneys are lovely. Would you kindly bring fresh toast for our guest when she arrives?”
As I entered the room, a portly, middle-aged man in a black suit was leaving through another door, a silver toast rack in his hands.
“Mrs. Hatch’s husband,” Nicole informed me, when he’d gone. “They’re both from Newcastle. We tried a local couple, but—”
“There’s no need to bore our guest with tedious domestic affairs, my dear.” Jared rose to pull a button-backed velvet chair out for me. “Won’t you sit down, Mrs. Willis?”
I sat opposite Nicole, with Jared taking pride of place at the head of a polished walnut table long enough to seat twelve. Behind me, a mirrored breakfront held an array of covered warming dishes. While Nicole poured tea for me, Jared crossed to the breakfront and took up a plate.
“What may I get for you?” he asked. “Eggs, kidneys, bacon, tomatoes, kippers?”
“All of the above,” I replied. Adam’s broth was but a distant memory and my stomach felt as empty as a pauper’s pockets. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Not at all,” said Jared. “We rarely breakfast before nine.” He placed the laden dish before me and resumed his seat. Hatch returned briefly to present me with a rack of fresh toast and I helped myself to the marmalade.
The dining room was another Victorian time capsule, richly papered, splendidly carpeted, and overburdened with objets d’art. My hosts, however, had made a concession to modern times by exchanging vintage for contemporary clothing.
Jared was all business in a natty black three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt and a silk tie. Nicole was more casually attired, in a flowing black wool skirt, an oversized black sweater, and woolly tights.
I attacked my plate in silence, aware of the tension in the room, but too ravenous to care. It wasn’t until I’d quelled the worst of my hunger pangs that I decided to risk conversation.
“Nicole tells me that you collect Victoriana, Mr. Hollander,” I said gamely. “It must have taken you years to find so many splendid pieces.”
“Time is immaterial when one’s passion is engaged.” Jared twirled his mustache and surveyed the dining room with a benign, self-satisfied air.
“Most of the larger pieces were here when we arrived,” Nicole pointed out. “Great-grandfather left virtually everything in place when he closed the hall. Uncle Dickie simply removed the dustcovers.”
“My wife’s uncle has been very helpful, in his way,” Jared admitted, with a sour smile. “Though I dare say that my own collection has added polish to what was a somewhat mundane assortment of period furnishings. By the time I’ve finished,” he added smugly, “people will pay to see Wyrdhurst.”
“You won’t have to pay, Lori.” Nicole looked up from her plate with a bright, brittle smile. “But I’m afraid my husband won’t be able to give you a tour. He’s leaving in an hour. Going to be gone all week. Isn’t it rotten of him, to abandon us while he goes off gallivanting in Newcastle?”
“It’s hardly gallivanting.” Jared scowled at his wife, then turned to me. “I’m needed in Newcastle, Mrs. Willis, to interview a new housekeeping service and attend several important auctions.”
“We’ve been through three cleaning crews already,” Nicole said, the smile tightening on her face. “Three crews in three months. It must be some sort of a record.”
“It’s too quiet up here for them,” Jared commented.
“Don’t they go down to the village?” I asked.
Nicole opened her mouth to reply, but Jared cut her off.
“Blackhope is an uncivilized backwater,” he declared. “What amusements it provides cannot compare to those offered in Newcastle.” He pulled a hefty gold hunter from his watch pocket and consulted it. “If you’ll excuse me, I must throw a few things together before I leave.” He leaned over to touch my wrist. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for deserting you, Mrs. Willis.”
I’d forgive him without a second thought, but I wasn’t so sure his wife could. She watched with wide, anxious eyes as he left the room, and didn’t touch her food after he’d gone.
I went back for seconds. “When I’ve finished breakfast,” I said, piling on the smoked kippers, “would you show me the library?”
“The library?” Nicole’s eyes took a moment to focus on me. “Of course. The library. That’s why Uncle Dickie sent you.”
As I watched my hostess slip back into a preoccupied silence, I began to suspect that the library wasn’t the only reason Uncle Dickie had sent me.