“He’ll be back soon and—”
The footsteps drew closer to the door and I glanced around, wishing Vasile was here. Wishing at least somebody I recognized was here.
Past the fireplace, there was a tall wardrobe that looked easily big enough for me to squeeze into, and I darted that way.
As I spun, I stumbled into the mantel piece and a few trinkets fell with a crash, and a piece of paper floated down into the fire, instantly starting to crinkle on the edges as the flames licked at it.
“What was that noise, boy? Who’s in there?”
“Nobody, Lord Barrington, I assure you. We’ve had some problems with mice—”
The door clicked open and somebody stepped inside. I watched them through the tiny gap between the doors of the wardrobe. There was a man dressed in overly opulent finery, like he was trying to show off, and another that was dressed plainly but had a much kinder face.
“See, my lord, nothing at all,” the kinder looking one said.
“Then why, pray tell, is there a fire burning in the grate? Hmmm?”
“I was asked to warm the room.”
“Someone was here. The bed is a mess.” I watched as he looked around with narrow eyes and I held my breath.
“You don’t own anything here. You lost the manor to Mr. Greengallow. You know that to be true and all its contents—”
“Nonsense. I may have lost my house to him, but I never included its contents.”
The kinder looking one let out an exasperated huff. “Please leave, or I’ll be forced to—”
“Forced to what, boy? Usher me out? Look at you, you’re nothing.”
“Lord, you should return when Mr. Greengallow is here. His family will not take this sort of disrespect lightly. You are aware of his family…”
The veiled threat seemed to make the man both angry and thoughtful at the same time. After a long pause, he spun back towards the door and stomped from the room.
“I will leave this matter for me to settle with him directly, but I will show Mr. Greengallow I was here,” he bellowed as he disappeared down the hall with the younger man following.
“That’s not the way out!”
“I know the way around my own house. I’m going to leave a clear message for Mr. Greengallow before I go…”
* * *
I waited for what felt like two or three hours inside the wardrobe. It could have been more, it could have been less, but I didn’t dare come out. I sat down on the empty floor, surrounded by nothing but wooden walls, and wondered whether any of this house legitimately belonged to Vasile.
After all, what did I really know about him? Maybe this wasn’t his manor after all.
Either way, I decided, there was no point staying in the wardrobe any longer. No matter how long I’d been in there, Vasile had been gone for hours and didn’t seem to care one bit about my welfare.
I was hungry, and I needed to get dressed. Maybe he’d left me for good. All the thoughts I had of both of us feeling what happened meant something more than just physical began to feel like fairy tales.
Slipping from the wardrobe, I padded across the room. The fire was burning low in the fireplace now, and whatever the piece of paper was it was long gone. I put on my nightdress, tying the ripped fabric in the center as best I could, then poked my head out of the door.
“Hello?” I looked up and down the corridor, and stopped to listen, but there was nothing. “Hello? Is anybody there?”
No answer. Nothing. Not a sound.
Setting out with stomach grumbling, I found the kitchens and larder easily. The kitchen and pantry were in utter disarray.
Crocks were broken on the floor, sacks of sugar and flour spilled everywhere. The food that had been there lay in ruins all over the kitchen. Apparently, this was the message Lord Barrington meant to leave for whichever Mr. Greengallow he’d been talking about. Whichever one of them had taken this place from him.
With no palatable food left in the kitchen, I headed for the orangery and made off with an armful of small fruits, and made my way back upstairs. By now, the clouds had spread over the midday winter sun and made the house feel not just darker but also colder.
In the room next door to the one I’d woken in, I found a fireplace stocked with logs, as well as a box of matches. I built the fire back up in my room and snuggled onto the chaise longue, wrapping myself in a soft afghan. It had been so long since I had experienced such luxuries that I felt almost guilty here, in this beautiful place, so snug and warm.
But the longer I sat and considered the flames, the more the complexity of my situation weighed on me. I hadn’t stopped thinking about Vasile, not even for a moment.
I knew he was something special. He took a huge risk to protect me, without even knowing me. The smallest gestures he’d made for me—putting on my socks and shoes, leaving a lit fire, even locking me in my room last night—were all such effortless displays of the fact that he did care, no matter how rough and tumble he might seem. And yet, I had to consider his family.
God, his awful family.
Though he was made of something much better than his brother, that Greengallow name still hung over him like a dark cloud. He was tainted. Men like that never lived long and I knew it; if I were to attach myself to him, I probably wouldn’t last long either.
And worse still was the gambling. That vicious, insidious, life-upending vice. Thinking of the disaster Lord Barrington left in the kitchen, surely this was all over some debt, gambling or otherwise, and it all just felt so unsafe
