A Stranger in Wynnedower (30 page)

Suddenly, Jeremy came
to her mind. Was he in love? He was barely twenty-two.

His choices, both the
choice to travel with a girl and not to tell his sister and to forego grad
school, didn’t hurt so much now. She congratulated herself on moving forward.

She could appreciate a
little bit about how it felt to fall for someone.

Correction. Not quite
fallen, but dangerously close to the edge.

Rachel carried the
blueprints downstairs. They were large but thin and very old. She arranged them
on the bare floor of the central hall.

The basement was
unknown territory. The blueprints showed rooms in the eastern half and a large
open area in the western half. The wide double doors on the back of the house
were labeled as Carriage Doors. The carriage area inside the basement was
blocked off from the rest of the basement by a wall with one door. That door
was near the area of the central stairs.

On the first floor,
there was the foyer with small rooms on either side. Next, the central hall.
Library and conservatory to the left. Stairway to the right. Rooms were arrayed
along the back, leading to Jack’s quarters, like the kitchen and pantry. Facing
the front of the house were the butler’s quarters and a servants’ area.

Rachel moved over to
the second floor blueprint and settled herself on the floor. She didn’t seem to
have missed any rooms. She could’ve checked ‘em off one by one.

“Those used to be her
rooms.”

May was standing behind
her.

“What?”

“The room you’re using and
the sitting room was Miss Helene’s suite. An intruder surprised her there once,
and she would never go back. Jack moved her belongings into the nursery suite.
Now they are in the same wing, if on different floors.”

It clicked in her
brain. That’s why her rooms were better maintained. “I thought she lived
elsewhere for most of her adult life. In England or somewhere.”

“She traveled back and
forth. For such a shy one, she travels well as long as she has someone with her
to handle problems. Give her a book and a blanket. She finds those planes so
chilly, you know. Not that I travel with her, but she tells me about it. She
talks to me. Not to many people, but always to me. Like a mother to her, I am.”

May was
uncharacteristically talkative, but what was her point? To make Rachel jealous
of her relationship with Helene? Not likely. She chose a safe response.

“I’m sure you are. I
don’t know how she’d manage without you.”

“She confides in me,
you understand. There’s a special bond between me and the Wynne family.”

Rachel swiveled all the
way around, staying on the floor, but finally facing her fully. “And?”

“She’s very vulnerable.
Pushing her to do what she doesn’t want is very distressing.”

Distressing to May,
certainly.

“I’ll try to be more
sensitive to her wishes.” That should do it.

But no.

May continued, “Your
interest in her brother, Mr. Wynne, is distressing to her and, I will add,
unflattering to you. To your character.”

Heat rushed up through
Rachel. Anger. “Stay out of my business.” She turned her back to May lest she
say more and uglier words.

“It’s smart to know
about a person before getting involved. About his people and background. The
Wynnes are an old and respected family.”

She couldn’t help
herself. She said, “Helene should practice getting out more. If Jack sells
Wynnedower….” She trailed off, embarrassed because she’d struck out at May
deliberately.

“He wouldn’t. He’d
never do that to Miss Helene or to Wynnedower.”

“Oh, really? You might
be surprised what Helene would do.” Anger had driven her words. Not just the
words, but the way she’d thrown them at May.

May left. The sound of
her footfalls receded into the distance.

Rachel tried to soothe
her guilt. May was a snob who thought Rachel wasn’t good enough. Or May was
greedy and didn’t want to share her setup here. Maybe May was like her and
didn’t have a real life of her own.

Rachel realized her
fingers were back on her lips. She recalled the feel of Jack’s kiss. What was
between them was no one’s business but theirs. Even they didn’t know the extent
of what was between them. Not yet. She was excited, and a little fearful, to
find out. But find out, she would. Daisy would certainly approve of her
determination. One day, with patience and more personal restraint, she’d make
May understand that she, Rachel, wasn’t bad or unworthy. It would just take
time.

****

Rachel paused in the
kitchen doorway considering the best way to phrase her request. Considering
their earlier dust-up, she wanted to try to sweeten the request.

“Mrs. Sellers, I have a
favor to ask.”

“What?” She turned
toward Rachel, an attitude showing on her face, and immediately shifted her
attention to somewhere beyond her. “Miss Helene. Come in, dear. Are you ill?
What do you need?” Flustered, May patted her apron absentmindedly, and then
stretched her hands out toward their visitor.

A tiny smile played
across Helene’s lips, and she looked almost confident, like a watcher of long
habit who suddenly appears, catching the watchees unaware and unprepared.
Mischievous or just curious?

Rachel stayed back
while May ushered Helene into the kitchen. May stood her in front of a chair
and said “Sit here, dear. Careful now.”

May spoke to Helene as
if she were a half-witted invalid. She itched to slap May. She hadn’t seen
anything to indicate that was the case, nor that Helene was physically
delicate. Merely shy and reclusive. Never mind May. Maybe she should just ask
Helene.

May’s attention was
totally focused on Helene. For May, Rachel had ceased to exist.

Rachel asked softly,
“How are you today?”

Almost in a whisper,
Helene answered, “I’m fine.”

“I’m glad you came
downstairs. Perhaps we could have brunch in the conservatory one day. Would you
enjoy that?”

May interrupted, “I
don’t think.…”

Helene spoke. “…would
be lovely.”

“It’s a date then.”
Rachel tried to swallow the feeling of triumph. It wasn’t about her or May,
anyway. It was about Helene’s best interests.

Helene nodded. “I’m
ready to return to my room now.”

May jumped forward.
“I’ll get you there safe and snug, Miss Helene.”

“Thank you, Miss May.”

****

It didn’t add up, plain
and simple. Rachel looked at the blueprint and then at the stair landing. She
examined the blueprint more closely, then went to the kitchen.

Was it a duct? Did they
have duct work at the turn of the prior century? Or was it simply a void
between the stairs and kitchen? She returned to the blueprint and checked it
again before climbing the stairs to the landing. She trailed her fingers along
the wall.

The blueprints showed a
door in this spot that opened onto a narrow stairway that led down to the
kitchen. Probably some sort of servants’ shortcut. There was no sign of a door
now.

In the kitchen, in the
corner where the steps should have ended, was the Welsh dresser with the lovely
dishes. This dresser was a beautiful piece of furniture except for the uneven
darkening of the finish from years of cooking fumes. It could’ve been a showpiece,
but instead it was utilitarian. It should also have been free-standing.

The dresser was flush
to the wall from a foot above her head down to the floor. It sat so close and
tight against the wall that she couldn’t get a finger behind it.

Yet the doors were on
the blueprint, both in the kitchen and on the landing. This was the kind of
mystery that would nag at her, but since the dresser was bolted to the wall,
the question could have no answer. She resolved to ignore it and move on to
other things. Like Jack’s studio.

The paint materials
were neatly tucked away, and the beautiful wood grain of the floor was no
longer hidden. The patina was exquisite. The vast canvas drop cloth that had
protected the floor had been folded and laid in a neat, large blocky square
beside the wall where the paintings were stacked, upright and leaning.

This would be a
beautiful room when restored to its intended purpose.

Never mind mystery, she
told herself, but later, when she was going through the old documents and photos
in Jack’s box she found proof the door had once existed.

She stared at it
intently, almost stepping in among the posers. The grouping was semi-casual and
on the lower part of the stairs. A man in a suit and bowler hat was leaning
against the stair rail. A woman in a long-skirted gown and a wide brimmed hat
was standing a few steps directly below him. Several children sat on the steps.
Behind them on the landing was a discreet but obvious door.

****

In the dark of night,
in the quiet of her room—indeed, the silence of her room, the west wing and the
entire second floor—she heard a noise, the kind of noise that made it into her
room only by means of its vibration through the bones of the house.

Impossible to tell its
origin. Feet bare against the wood floor, breath held, she listened for
something more.

Stuff like this should
only happen with Jack here. She didn’t mind calling the cops if she saw a
stranger outside, but an unknown sound from somewhere inside the mansion?

It came again, sort of
a distant boom. Again the floor vibrated beneath her feet.

She pulled on her
shorts and a t-shirt, muttering that she should’ve asked Jack for his gun.

Should she wake
Brendan? Or May? No, not May. Brendan. But first she was going to tiptoe to the
stairs and listen. Her pulse was beating so hard in her ears she couldn’t be
sure of hearing a stampeding herd of elephants.

She paused a few steps
down.

No sound. No telltale
gleam from the exterior motion lights filtered in through the windows, so
nothing had tripped them.

Everything was fine.

Another noise, faint,
came from directly below where she stood on the landing.

The basement?

Sound could be
distorted and travel in unexpected ways. Might be mice. Or a rat. Revulsion
raced the length of her body. No need to go down there.

Brendan was nearby. At
the very least, she should wake him and get his opinion. He could check the
basement while she guarded the main floor.

Stepping lightly, she
moved down the stairs and then through the back hall to Jack’s quarters. She
knocked on the door softly. “Brendan?”

She knocked again. No
answer.

The basement door was
in the pantry. She eased the door open and stuck her head in. So dark and
silent. No way on earth would she take a step down those stairs. She shut the
door.

Had it been unlocked
all along? May or Jack could’ve unlocked it recently and forgotten to relock
it…no, that was farfetched considering how careful they were.

She could block the
door. If someone was down there it would prevent them from gaining access to
the rest of the house, at least through here. She placed her hands against a
free-standing cabinet and tried to push it.

Brendan said, “What’s
up?”

He was standing in the
kitchen. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but barefoot with his hair
awry.

“I tried to wake you. I
heard noises coming from the basement.”

“The basement? Did you
go down and check it out?”

“Are you joking?”

He scratched his head.
“Scaredy cat. It’s just a basement. Leave the cabinet where it is.” He opened
the basement door and reached in, fumbling for a light switch. The light came
on.

“Stay here. I’ll go
down and check.”

Barely through the
doorway, Brendan yelped and stepped backward hastily. She jumped, and he
laughed.

“You’re mean,” she
said, trying to laugh with him though her attempt was a little weak.

He answered with a
smile, then said, “I’ll be back.”

Brendan went down the
stairs and passed from view.

She waited. One second.
Two.

“Okay down there?”
Rachel had visions of rats sinking their sharp little teeth into his bare toes.
If he screamed for real, would she go to his aid? Probably not, but she could
toss down a knife or something.

He called up.
“Everything’s fine.”

A few minutes passed,
then the basement stairs creaked.

“Nothing down here.”

“But an intruder…could
he have gone to one of the end stairways? He might be hiding down there,
waiting to get upstairs.”

“Rachel. There’s no one
down here. Trust me.” He climbed the stairs. “What did the noise sound like?”

“Loud at first. Sort of
a boom and then a vibration.”