Chapter 6: The Sealed Corridor
The parlor grew noticeably colder as the fire settled into gray ash. Evelyn did not answer immediately. She reached out and picked up a small silver bell from the side table, ringing it once. The chime was clear and sharp, echoing down the empty hallway.
Minutes passed in total silence. Just as Clara began to wonder if anyone else inhabited the sprawling estate, the heavy parlor door creaked open. An elderly man with a stooped back and silver hair stepped into the room. He wore a faded black butler’s uniform that fit him loosely, his eyes clouded with age but still alert.
"You rang, Madam?" the man asked, his voice gravelly from disuse.
"Arthur," Evelyn said without turning around. "Prepare the blue room on the second floor. We have a guest."
Arthur blinked, his gaze shifting slowly from Evelyn to the young girl wrapped in a wool blanket by the hearth. A flicker of recognition crossed his weathered face, though he masked it quickly behind a neutral expression. He looked at Clara’s reddish-brown hair and the scratch on her cheek, his hands twitching nervously against the fabric of his trousers.
"The blue room, Madam?" Arthur asked, hesitation evident in his tone. "That wing has been sealed since the fire. The floorboards near the west gallery are compromised."
"Then fix them or walk around them," Evelyn snapped, her old authority returning for a brief moment. "She cannot sleep in the ballroom, Arthur. The child is freezing."
Arthur nodded slowly, keeping his eyes lowered. "Very well. I will see to it immediately." He turned and shuffled out of the parlor, pulling the heavy wooden door shut behind him with a soft click.
Clara watched the door close before turning her attention back to Evelyn. "You keep people away," Clara observed. "Arthur is the only one left, isn't he? Just the two of you rattling around in a house meant for fifty."
"A large house requires a large staff," Evelyn replied coldly. "When the scandal broke, the servants left. When the money dwindled, we could not afford replacements. Arthur stayed because he had nowhere else to go. Just as I stayed because this is where my mistakes were made."
May you like
"Mistakes can be corrected," Clara said softly.
Evelyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. "At my age, child, mistakes are permanent fixtures. You don't correct them; you simply learn to live in their shadow." She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles of her black dress. "Arthur will have your room ready shortly. Get some rest. Tomorrow, if you still want to know about the nursery, I will show you where the ghosts live."
