The Hallowed Read online

  After dawn had broken, a tray of breakfast had been served to her in her room by one of the maids. There was coffee and crisp bread with an exquisitely tart red jam. Afterward, Celia was asked to come downstairs and meet Irving, who wished to give her a tour of the house. Several hours had given her time to calm down, and though she was still somewhat uneasy because of the encounter, she decided to oblige her host. But first, she tried to look in on Adam.

  She took down the portrait, peering through the crack in the wall. She could barely see his bed, for it was positioned against the wall she was peering through. It was possible that he was asleep there and she could not see him, but she thought perhaps he was downstairs waiting to be shown the house as well. She hoped to meet him there. Just a glimpse of him would make her feel more at ease.

  When she’d dressed herself in the green ensemble that the maid had chosen for her and had come down, Irving was waiting for her—but Adam was nowhere in sight. When Irving looked up to see her, Celia hesitated on the stairs before she came down to meet her host.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said pleasantly. “You looked refreshed.”

  Did she? She felt tired—haunted. Irving, on the other hand, was as well-kempt as he’d been the night before.

  “You wanted to see me?” she asked.

  “Yes, I thought you might like a guided tour of the house.”

  Celia thought it would be rude of her to refuse his offer, since he had taken her under his roof, though she couldn’t say how she felt about being alone with this man she didn’t know, especially after what had happened in the night.

  “Will Adam be joining us?” She tried to ask nonchalantly, but thought she might have come off a bit more desperate than she’d hoped.

  Irving smiled at her knowingly. “Actually, he has requested that he not be disturbed for a while. Seems he’s still recuperating from yesterday. Shall we?”

  He offered his arm to her, and since he was being such a gentleman, Celia felt comfortable enough to come down and accept it. Irving began to show her the house along the first floor, and any reservations she’d had about him were soon fading. Irving was as pleasant as he’d been the day before. He was truly a charming man, tall and upright. He was handsome and confident. Celia liked the way that he held his shoulders, and when he chuckled, he tossed his head back in a way that was so carefree that she couldn’t help but feel at ease.

  “You said this was your father’s house?” Celia asked, making conversation as they walked.

  “Yes, the house was gifted to our family years ago by a Marquis. This Chateau has thirty-nine rooms, and of course the grounds.”

  “Thirty-nine! Who would need so many?” she returned, awestruck. Irving chuckled.

  “The bigger the house, the greater the prestige, my dear.”

  Irving showed her past the dining room, where she had already been, and proceeded to lead her down the hallway beyond the stairs. Celia noticed one of the maids—Luci or Margot—who was busy cleaning. She did not regard them.

  “This is our music room,” Irving said, presenting a spacious chamber with a grand piano in the center. The walls were an odd peachy color that was not very appealing, but Celia didn’t mention it for politeness’ sake. There were a few other instruments there, a violin and a harp, but there was very little furniture in this room. Celia would guess that this was so the sound of the music would not be absorbed. Looking in at the piano in the middle, Celia felt a bit sad. She knew what a piano was—she had recognized it immediately—and yet she could not say why she knew, or where she had ever seen one.

  “I don’t suppose you recall any musical talent?” Irving asked, calling her back.

  “I’m not sure,” Celia said with a nervous smile.

  He offered her a gentle nod of understanding. “Not to worry. But if you do feel the need to experiment, feel free to make all the noise you’d like. The room stays too quiet anymore. My father used to enjoy playing the piano a great deal. I learned, in my youth, but I had little love for it.”

  “Why doesn’t your father play anymore?” she asked, simply for conversation’s sake.

  “Old age, arthritis… They take things from a man.”

  He led her onward to view more of the house. He showed her everything on the first floor, from the entrance hall to the back kitchens, and Celia wondered how only two maids could keep the place as spotless as it was. Perhaps there were more; she just had yet to meet them. The second floor was equally impressive, with several large, open rooms for sitting, libraries and studies. There was a gallery with many fine paintings and statues that she viewed with delight. Every tapestry was rich and colorful, giving each room a thick atmosphere. She had to admit that the place was lovely.

  “Forgive me for bringing it up, but I suppose it is safe to assume that you haven’t remembered anything yet,” Irving said to her as she walked along beside him.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she admitted, trying not to sound too disheartened by this.

  “I thought a good night’s sleep might help you. Oh, on that note, did you sleep well?”

  Celia didn’t answer that immediately. There was still the shadow of a creeper in her mind’s eye.

  “I suppose I am still a bit unsettled.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said apologetically.

  She recovered quickly. “Since I cannot tell you much about myself, why don’t you tell me something about you, Irving LaCroix.”

  “Oh yes? What would you like to know?”

  She asked the first thing that came to her mind, just to steer the bad thoughts away. “How long have you and your wife been married?”

  “About ten years now, I guess it’s been.” Celia looked at him with surprise in her eyes. She had not thought Anjessica to be much older than she was. Irving seemed to read her thoughts. “She’s not as young as she looks, though she is a few years my junior.”

  “Do you have any other children?” she asked him, remembering that Anjessica was near to bursting with the child that was inside her now.

  “No,” he said, his voice lowering. “We’ve not been blessed in that way—until now.”

  Celia couldn’t judge what Irving was thinking, but she could tell by his voice that he didn’t want to go deeper into this subject. The reasons they hadn’t been able to conceive was a personal matter, and Celia did not press it.

  “And here we have, as the last stop on our tour, my own personal library,” Irving said, allowing Celia to step inside the room.

  The room was neat and organized, with many shelves of books and a desk that she could barely see nestled in an alcove. There was a table by the door where a set of keys, an inkwell, and a stack of books were all set as if they had very specific places on the surface. Celia ran her hand along the edge of the table absently.

  “The last stop?” she questioned. “But we haven’t been along the third floor yet.”

  Her statement was good-natured, though she had only one thing in mind by wishing to go to the third floor, which was getting a glimpse inside the room with the strange shadows that she’d seen the night before.

  “The third floor consists solely of bedrooms,” Irving explained with a little shrug. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with that.”

  Though disappointed, Celia managed a smile.

  “Please feel free to treat this house as your own for the extent of your stay. Once again, if you need anything, only ask.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bit of work to get to,” he added with a pleasant smile, and Celia felt somewhat ashamed that she had not understood that he wanted her to go.

  “Oh, yes; of course.”

  Irving did not close the door behind her, but she was sure that he wanted privacy. However, the girl was not quite sure what to do with herself once left alone, wondering so many things within her busy mind. Where was Adam? Surely he was awake by now, but she had not seen him. Where was the rest of the family? S
he had seen none of them along the tour. Who had been in her room last night?

  Her aimless wandering led her to a parlor on the first floor that boasted great glass doors on the far side, and seeing that the rain had slacked, she let herself out onto the terrace beyond. The air was fresher outside at least, although thin at this elevation. She looked down past the railing to see that the entire back side of the house was aligned with the edge of a cliff. Even on the first floor, the distance down was tremendous. Celia felt dizzy to look at it, and absently gripped the slick, stone rail a bit tighter.

  A footstep resounded on the floor of the balcony behind her, echoing back from the dripping trees below. Someone had decided to join her outside. She turned to observe the newcomer, hoping to find Adam there, but was surprised by who she did find.

  The man who walked out across the balcony did not even look at Celia as he stepped up beside her. She looked at him, wondering what he could possibly want. Maynard had been sitting right beside her at dinner the night before, and he had not glanced at her once. He had come out to stand with her on the balcony, and yet he looked out into the distance as if she were not there. She gave up on him after a moment, turning her face toward the distance as well, and that was when his mouth opened.

  “I’m sorry if my older brother is bullying you,” Maynard apologized quietly. “He likes to think he controls everything around him.”

  Recalling that he had only one brother, Celia knew he was speaking of Irving.

  “Oh, no; he’s been very friendly,” she assured him.

  The young man lowered his head a bit.

  “I suppose it would seem that way to you,” he said softly. “I find him rather obnoxious myself.”

  She tilted her head toward him, confused, but then wondered why she should have been baffled by such a statement. To someone as withdrawn as Maynard, she could imagine how Irving would be bothersome.

  “I think he’s charming,” she told him, wondering if he was simply trying to make conversation with her, or if there was something pertinent he wanted to say. The wind picked up a bit, tossing her hair and ruffling her dress. She wondered if it would rain again soon.

  “Do you trust that other man? Adam?” Maynard asked then, surprising her. “Perhaps he’s not good for you.”

  “What?” The idea seemed unfathomable to her.

  “He’s a stranger to you, isn’t he?”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Yes, Adam was practically a stranger, but she couldn’t see a reason why he might not be good for her.

  “How could he be bad for me? He has the same trouble as I do. Are you suggesting that he might unconsciously have some ill-will toward me?”

  Perhaps she sounded upset—she wasn’t sure—but Maynard seemed to think so. He turned his melancholy blue eyes on her, though at the same time, he seemed to withdraw.

  “Don’t be angry with me, Celia,” he entreated. “You’re a beautiful girl. I’d just—I’d hate for something to happen to you that you didn’t want.”

  She stared up at him as his gaze drifted away from her, and she was confused more than ever. Did he know something she didn’t? What could he have known?

  “What do you mean?” she tried.

  But Maynard didn’t say a word.

  Adam found Irving LaCroix on a second floor balcony after the rain had ceased. The young man had not been asked to view the house, but he’d done so on his own, ducking out of his unlocked room directly after breakfast was served to him, having only a morsel of food first. His exploration had been fairly in vain, for every door he’d tried to open had been mysteriously locked.

  On the second floor, many of the rooms did not have doors, standing open to the main walkway outside, but he’d spotted Irving through an opening. He’d been meaning to seek that man out, now stumbling upon him by chance, and he supposed now was as good a time as any to address him. Without announcing himself, he let himself into the room.

  “LaCroix,” he called just before stepping onto the balcony.

  Irving did not appear shaken in the least, even though he had been intruded upon.

  “Yes? What can I do for you, Adam?” he asked genuinely.

  “I believe you are the man I should be talking to about this,” he began, stepping beside Irving, “and so I’ve come to tell you that it is my wish to leave your house.”

  Irving’s eyebrows rose in consideration, and in his brief silence, Adam looked off the balcony, noticing that there was another longer veranda below. Two figures were standing there upon it, and he identified them quickly as Celia and Maynard. He wondered if it bothered him that they were talking, though he couldn’t consider it for thinking that Irving had been watching them intently from this upper terrace.

  “Of course,” Irving said finally. “I would be glad to help all I can. Will the girl go with you?”

  “Yes. Definitely,” Adam said without hesitating, and he did not expect Irving to argue with him about the matter.

  “I’m curious, do you believe she is your wife?” Irving asked, but did not give Adam time to answer as he looked back toward the girl below. “I wondered if we should have put you into separate rooms, but we decided not to be so bold as to put you together. There were no rings, after all. Only a watch, a locket, and a letter. That was all we found. Perhaps the weather will clear and we’ll be able to search the wreckage for more in a day or two.”

  Adam peered down at Celia, seeing that she gave Maynard her attention, even though the young man did not look back at her. Adam had thought about the girl for several hours before he’d finally fallen asleep the night before, for his thoughts had been haunted by her drifting image. Her long hair, her deep sea eyes… He had come to no resolution for his thoughts, and did not know if he had loved her in the past, but he felt responsible for her now.

  “I don’t know how I am related to her,” Adam said, halting his trailing thoughts. “But she’s agreed to come with me, and I certainly think it’s best.”

  “Oh, of course you are right…but where is it that you will go?”

  “Into the first town along the way,” Adam said, pulling it from the top of his head. “Perhaps someone there will know us or remember us passing through.”

  Irving nodded slowly. Standing there beside him, Adam took the opportunity to size up the other man. Irving was tall, but Adam was a hair taller. Irving was a man of fair size, but Adam was younger—helpful for knocking him out of the way if he tried to keep them from leaving this place.

  What a silly thought. They wouldn’t try to keep me here.

  “I do hope you will find someone who recognizes you there. But I would advise against leaving today,” Irving said pleasantly, but seriously. “The roads are especially treacherous now after a rain, and I fear it is not over yet. I believe the torrents will continue on into the night.”

  Nevertheless, Adam had his mind set. “But I can’t bear for us to trouble you even another day,” he insisted.

  “I have to be firm in this,” Irving told him. “I will help you all that I can, but for your own sake, I must insist that my horses stay here tonight. We will see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps your memory loss is only temporary and you will soon remember where you belong. In the meantime, I mean for you both to find yourselves comfortable here.”

  Unless Adam wished to make this trek on foot in the wet weather or attempt to steal the horses, he could not win against the man’s insistence. He would have to tolerate his own ignorance at least until the morrow. He began to walk away from Irving without any further acknowledgment, but stopped and turned as more words begged to shoot from his mouth. He saw no reason to keep them to himself.

  “Incidentally,” Adam said, casting an eye back at Irving. “I don’t quite appreciate being locked in my room.”

  Irving did not falter, only tilting his head slightly.

  “I’ll have a word with the maid who turns down your bed,” he said agreeably.

  Maynard had remained silent as Cel
ia watched him, and still he refused to look at her. He’d just said that he’d hate for something to happen to her, and now would not explain himself. What could he have meant? Did he presume to know Adam well enough to make judgments against him? She had nearly built up enough nerve to insist that he elaborate when another footstep hit the balcony, turning both their heads. Celia felt something a bit like relief to see the man who stood there.

  “Do you think I might borrow her a moment?” Adam asked, but it didn’t sound like a request, instead as if telling Maynard that his presence was an inconvenience.

  The younger man seemed angered by that.

  “What do you—?” His words stopped short as his eyes drifted upward, and Celia followed his gaze to see that there was a balcony above them, built closer to the wall and so it was easy to see if a person was standing upon it. There was. It was Irving, and he was looking squarely down at his brother Maynard so intently that the younger man seemed to forget about Celia and Adam completely. Still looking up toward his brother, Maynard stormed back into the house, and just a moment later, Irving smiled down on Celia and disappeared from sight.

  What was that about, I wonder? Adam didn’t seem to notice.

  “I just spoke to Irving about leaving here,” he said, stepping closer.

  “What did he say?” she asked, forgetting the awkward moment.

  “He refuses to let us go in this weather. Says perhaps tomorrow.”

  Adam leaned forward over the rail, not looking at her but over the trees instead. The air had become like mist, limiting the view.

  “He seems bent on us staying here,” he continued. “Perhaps they don’t get many visitors and the man never has anyone to run his mouth off to. The others seem fairly irresponsive.” Adam paused a moment, then added. “You don’t suppose they plan to eat us, do you? Drink our blood?”

  “What?” The idea surprised her, and she looked at him with wide eyes, but as she watched, the man smiled.

  “Nothing,” he said, and she was glad to see that he wasn’t serious. A sense of humor had emerged, and she was pleased to see his smile, but his expression soon reverted to convey more serious things.