It took several minutes for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. The small pen flashlight I’d purchased at the hardware store in town gave out a narrow stream of light. Even this pinpoint beam in the tunnels would be enough draw Cora’s attention.
The rough stone walls of the tunnel rubbed against my arms making me curse under my breath. I reached the landing and waited, listening for the slightest sound. Nothing.
After many moments of absolute silence, I climbed the marble stairway to the first floor. Nothing about the house was familiar yet, but I knew I was looking for a stairway to the second story. The main stairway in the foyer near the front door was way too open and conspicuous. Servants, at one time, had living quarters and it stood to reason that they were near the kitchen. There had to be a second set of stairs somewhere in that vicinity.
I shined my light upwards. The ceiling was high and rounded. Marble cornices braced the walls, every twenty feet or so. Marble. Stone. Ornate heavy wood doors. This wasn’t a house, it was a castle.
I twisted each door knob as I went along, hoping that at least one was open and I could peek inside. All were locked. Cora lived here alone. Bizarre that she chose to keep everything secured. I was surprised when I felt one knob turn with my hand. I stepped inside a formal dining room. A dark wood table the size of my bedroom in Portland sat in the middle under an elaborate chandelier. French doors ran down one entire wall. They were covered in heavy olive green drapery. I shoved the thick velvet aside and peered onto a terrace.
In days gone by they must have opened these doors, set the terrace with tables and had large outdoor parties. I closed my eyes and was taken back to the nineteenth century. I could see the people milling about, eating drinking, socializing, spilling over onto the terrace and the yard beyond. The cream of Philadelphia society had visited this room. Now it sat empty. What remained was the furniture and a musty smell of a time gone by. I pushed the swinging door at the end of the room and entered the kitchen.
The room was dark and silent. Stars were visible through the windows set high in the wall. I stood silent for moment, listening to my breath, trying to get my bearings. There were four exits from the kitchen. One was the dining room door I had just come through, the other was not a door at all but an archway that led out into the hallway near the entrance of the house. The third door was directly across the kitchen from the dining room. It was opened enough that I could see it was pantry. The glint of moonlight reflected off a stainless steel appliance. There was only one other exit. A tall narrow door near the windows. This had to be the maid’s entrance to the kitchen from the upstairs quarters.
My hand ran across the granite countertop on my way to explore the second floor of the house. The hardness of the counter ended and my fingers landed in the softness of ash. I stopped. There was a barbecue pit surrounded by brick that sat where the counter should have continued. I didn’t notice it when I was here the night before. It was a nice feature. It had probably been a fireplace at one time and was used to keep the kitchen warm.
I was about to walk on when I saw a something white amongst the embers. I picked it up and squinted at it in the darkness. It looked like the corner of a black and white photograph. The white edging and a little of the gray background was all that remained.
“Pictures, pictures everywhere…” I stuffed the remnant in my pocket and went to explore the upstairs.
The stairway from the kitchen to the second floor was very narrow and steep. It had no handrail or banister, no carpeting or runners. A very slippery slope. If I were wearing socks I might have slid all the way back down with nothing to break my fall.
I reached the top by holding onto the wall. I was in a maid’s suite. Four or five small bedrooms sat off a main gathering area. My heart was dancing under my ribs and I stopped to calm myself.
Cora had to be up here somewhere. I could feel it. Her very presence sent off vibrations loud enough to chase away small rodents. I swore under my breath. I could have been at home right at that moment, in Maine, with nothing more to think about than how to invest fifteen million so I didn’t have to pay taxes on it. I could spend endless hours lounging in my living room, drinking coffee, perseverating about how I could have been married to this man and not known, not even had an inkling, that he was a fraud. But how could I have known? Yeah, when I thought about the few formal dinners we’d had together, he did seem to know which fork to use. Was that enough? Should I have stood up and thrown my napkin in his face and demanded the truth?
I shook myself back to reality. I was standing in this sitting room with a penlight stuck between my teeth, with my heart jumping to and fro, trying to dodge this mother-in-law who must have been so horrible that my husband would rather eat cold beans from a tin can for three days running, than pick up the phone and call her.
I found a door in the sitting room that opened into a main hallway of the house. A large stately hallway, the walls were full of art; the hardwood floor had a thin Oriental rug that ran the length of it. I stood and counted the doorways in this wing. There were seven closed doors and an air of silence.
I tested the knobs as I walked along. Some were locked; a few were open. Most were guest rooms. Well furnished, overstated, guest rooms. One was an office. A huge desk and a filing cabinet filled one corner. I made a mental note of the location should I decide to come back, and moved on to the next set of doors across the hall. I had just cracked one door when I was able to see enough that I knew I had found what I was looking for.
Nick’s room. My body tingled. It looked as it must have the day he left this house. It was a large room with a queen sized ornate dark wood four poster bed. I walked over and shined my light on it. The covers were scrunched up as if someone had been sleeping in it. I ran my fingers over the blanket. Dust covered everything. Cora didn’t bother to clean in here.
The walls were bare. No posters of rock groups, or half dressed women, or even sports teams filled any of the pale blue space. Not even one print, painting or picture of any kind decorated these walls in a house full of art. A large mahogany dresser and armoire were pushed together in the corner. The wood was warped and the drawer resisted when I pulled at it. It gave way, but made a loud scraping sound when it opened. Clothes were folded inside. I took out a shirt and held it up. A boy’s shirt. Cora had never gotten rid of Nick’s things. A pair of gray socks lay in the corner in a ball by the dresser. Clumps of dust and dirt clung to them. I shook them several times and watched the dirt float to the floor. They had been white at one time. The last pair of socks Nick wore before he ran away. A hamper held dirty clothes heaped in the bottom. Untouched for over a decade. The smell was enough to make me drop the lid.
A carved wooden rocker sat next to the hamper. I shined my light over it and then moved it back again. It too was covered in dust. I could see it imbedded in the figures carved into the wood. Ten years worth of grime covered the chair except on the seat where a person would put their behind. The outline was visible where someone had been sitting. When I ran my finger over it, it came up clean. My imagination began to take my mind in all sorts of crazy directions at once. I shuddered and backed away, tossing the socks back in the corner where they’d been.
It was then that I noticed a stream of light visible underneath a door on the far side of the room. I held my breath and listened for any sounds from the other side of the wall. Nothing. I just knew this was Cora’s room. It all made sense. A room next to Nick’s with an adjoining door so she could smother him with her presence even as he slept.
I tip toed to the closet and opened the door. Cobwebs brushed across my face. I kept trying to wipe the threads from my skin but they clung to me. I could feel them in my mouth and I wanted to spit but held it in.
The clothes in the closet were hung in a row, nothing out of place. Several small cardboard boxes were stacked on the floor. I lifted a flap and shined my light inside. The contained various notes and school papers. I tried to sort through them but with every slight, or imagined sound my heart skipped two beats. This wasn’t going to work with Cora so close. I heaved one box under my arm and tip toed to the hallway. The wooden floors were old and creaked with each footstep so I slipped off my shoes and put them in the box, shuffling along the rest of the way the best I could in my stocking feet.
I only remembered how steep and slippery those steps from the maid’s quarters were when I lost my footing and fell.