The Ruby Locket (3 page)

Chapter Four

Anne

T
he food spread out on the long, polished table redefined the word “breakfast.” There were bowls overflowing with fresh fruit, frosted pastries, glass carafes of different juices—one for every color of the rainbow. There was steaming coffee, a dozen types of cereal, and bagels heavy with cream cheese and smoked salmon.

              I paused outside of the arched doorway leading into the breakfast room, just so I could take it all in. “Whoa. Is this all for us?”

              Mom stopped in her tracks too. “I suppose so.”

              Ever since we had entered the main house, Mom’s eyes had taken on kind of a glassed-over look, like she couldn’t quite register what she was seeing. I couldn’t blame her. The inside of Belrose Abbey was just as grand as the outside. Marble statues, massive oil paintings, ornate antiques, winding staircases, vast rooms, and echoing ceilings. Miss Easton had led us through so many doors and hallways that I was already hopelessly lost. If only Belrose were outfitted with those “You are here” signs, like at amusement parks. But somehow I doubted that.

              Wordlessly, Mom and I entered the room and began to circle the buffet table like vultures. I hadn’t said much to her this morning. I had to admit, when I’d gotten up to go to the bathroom last night, I passed by the balcony and overheard Ivan and Mom talking, in intimate murmurs. Pausing just outside the door, I’d listened to Ivan give a speech about being trapped and Mom being the key to his release or something like that. While the words were dripping with sugary sentiment, something about them seemed almost…rehearsed. But my mom—who doesn’t have a drop of skepticism in her blood—latched onto it. I could hear it in her voice. The voice she used to use only with my dad.

              As the conversation on the balcony heated up, I had slunk away, my heart sinking. I would do just about anything to see Mom happy, but this was going to be harder than I thought. Everything was going to change. It already was changing.

              I grabbed a Danish from a silver platter and took a bite. Warm apple filling burst in my mouth. Perfection. Maybe not all the changes would be so bad. At least my daily breakfast menu would no longer include stale bagels and coffee out of a can.

              After Mom and I piled our plates with food, we sat at a large dark oak table, which as situated by a mammoth window overlooking one of the gardens. We ate in silence—or really, I ate. Mom just picked at her food, pinching grapes off the stem.

              When I’d washed down my feast with a glass of orange juice, Mom glanced at me. “So, what you are thinking, Anne?”

              “About what?”

              She gestured at the luxury around us. “All of this.”

              “Well, it’ll take some getting used to.” I pushed a lone raspberry around my plate. “Living this way will be a little strange. But hey,
I’m
a little strange.” I gave her a lopsided smile and she giggled. It was good to hear her laugh. “What about you? How do you feel about being mistress of this mansion-on-steroids?”

              Mom sighed, her smile fading a little. “I must admit I’m overwhelmed. Ivan definitely downplayed his wealth—which I guess is a credit to him. But I chose him for a reason. He’s a good man. And he has such a way with words.”

              As a dreamy look seeped into Mom’s expression, worry began to prick at me. Did she actually know the man she was going to marry in only a week or did she just fall in love with his honeyed words? Was Ivan manipulating her in some way? Mom could be so trusting. But maybe I was just being paranoid. I’d need to actually be around Ivan for a while to get a good read on him.

              “So when am I going to see Ivan—er, Mr. Helsburg?” I asked.

              “He dropped by last night,” Mom said, blushing, “and told me that we would all eat dinner together tonight, in the main dining room.”

              “Oh okay, good. It’s about time I sit down with this young man of yours and see if he’s good enough for you.” I jutted out my chin like a stern father, and I was rewarded with my mother’s smile.

              Done with our breakfast, we rose from the table. I felt weird not cleaning my dish, but I had no idea where the kitchens were. I supposed some servant would swoop down from the eaves and clear it away. 

              Walking back through the arch, I pointed to my left. “I think I saw a library this way. Would it be okay if I checked it out?”

              “Sure. I think I’m going to go back to the guest house. If I can find my way, that is.”

              I grimaced. “Good luck with that.”

              We went our separate ways, and I turned a corner into a room where I thought I’d seen floor-to-ceiling shelves of books through an open doorway, beckoning me. But instead I found myself in some sort of parlor room with plush settees and a grand piano.

              “That’s weird,” I muttered. I went farther down the cavernous hall, my footsteps echoing off the walls, multiplying them into a steady pitter-patter.

              The hairs on my arms prickled. Was that a second set of footfalls? I paused and slowly turned my head to look behind me, out of the corner of my eye.

              No one. An empty hall. No sneaking footsteps.

              I shivered and continued on my way, poking my head into various rooms. A guest bedroom, a music room filled with strange instruments, a storage room. The library began to feel like a hazy mirage, leading me deeper into the unknown.

              I turned a corner and peered into a doorway on my right. Inside the room was the guy I’d seen lined up with all the servants last night. The one who smirked at me, like he knew something I didn’t.

              As I watched through the gap in the doorway, he polished the top of a chest of drawers with a rag, unaware of my presence. Casting a quick glance around the room, he opened one of the drawers and began to rummage through it. Then he pulled out a silver chain strung with a ruby locket, appraised it, and slipped it into his pocket, ever so quietly.

              I stifled a gasp. I guess not all of Ivan’s servants were as straight laced as Miss Easton. Should I tell Ivan that one of his workers was stealing from him?

              My thoughts galloping on ahead of me, I stepped back to make a silent escape. The floorboard creaked under my foot. Quick as a snake, the young thief’s eyes met mine through the slit in the doorway. The second he started after me, I whirled around and sprinted back down the hallway, this time knowing that the second set of footfalls was no longer in my imagination.

Chapter Five

Anne

G
lancing over my shoulder, my hair flying in my face, I saw the boy rounding the corner at a brisk jog, his face grim. Before he spotted me, I ducked into a room on my left.

              And I found myself in the library. Go figure.

              Panting, I squatted behind a massive leather armchair. I heard his footsteps slow as he advanced down the hall, searching for me.

              And what would he do if he found me? Threaten me? Hurt me? I hadn’t even been here a full twenty four hours and already I was being hunted down like a rabbit.

              The footsteps paused outside the library’s entrance, and I held my breath, listening.

              Then the boy kept walking, his steps growing fainter.

              Breathing a sigh of relief, I stood and leaned against the back of the chair. My breakfast roiled in my stomach and I brought my hand to my brow, smoothing out my furrowed worry lines, identical to my mom’s. Suddenly, I saw a shadow block out the lamplight coming from an end table near the entrance. My gaze snapped toward the door.

              The boy thief stood there, arms crossed. But he didn’t look angry. Just smug. Like he’d caught a little rabbit in his snare.

              I hugged myself. “Um, hi.” Really? That’s what I say to the thief who chased me through the house?

              He didn’t respond, didn’t even budge an inch. Just stood there watching me, leaning against the doorframe. Once again, he didn’t wear any sort of uniform, just jeans and a white T-shirt.

              I began to fidget, running my fingers over the creases in the leather chair.

              Finally, he said, “What all did you see back there?”

              I opened my mouth but no words came out. Should I play dumb? It was probably too late for that. Should I try to be tough and scare him off? I doubted I was capable.

              So I just said, “Stealing is bad.”

              A smirk spread its way across the guy’s face. “Is that so? Are you gonna run off to your new daddy Ivan and tattle on me?”

              A bit of anger colored my fear, bolstering me a bit. “Excuse me?”

              He leaned forward, his curly black hair falling over one eye. “Speaking of stealing, I bet your mother is here for no other purpose than to see just how deep Mr. Helsburg’s pockets really go.”

              My pulse spiked. “Hey! You don’t even know us. How dare you accuse my mom of being a gold digger.” Flying to Mom’s defense chased away any remaining remnants of fear. I slapped the back of the chair. “And who are you to judge us? Thief.”

              The boy waggled his head. “For your information, Mr. Helsburg asked me to get the locket out of that room so he could give it your mom as a gift tonight.”

              My righteous indignation sputtered out like a dying flame. “Oh.”

              He smiled that smile again.

              I walked around to the front of the chair and sank down into it, suddenly exhausted. “Well then why did you chase me like a blood hound down the hallway?”

              Shrugging, he said, “I wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong impression from what you saw. Which you did. And besides, chasing you was fun.”

              I scowled at him. “You’re sadistic.”

              “Eh. I’ve been called worse.”

              There was a moment of quiet between us. I swung my feet to the metronome beat of a grandfather clock. “So…do you think you could help me get back to the guest house? I’m not quite sure where I am.” I hated asking this punk for help, but I wanted to check on Mom and there was no telling how long it take me to get back on my own.

              He rolled his eyes. “I suppose I must. I’m here to serve you after all.” He did an exaggerated bow, gesturing toward the doorway.

              Growling under my breath, I stood and tromped past him. As we left the library, I turned to him and asked, “What’s your name anyway?”

              He glanced at me through narrowed eyes, like he was wondering if I would somehow use his name against him. “Wyatt. And you’re Anne Knight.”

              “How did you know?”

              He took the lead, directing me down the hallway. “It’s the staff’s job to know.”

              “Well, that’s creepy.”

              “You have no idea.”

              I shuddered, deciding to let that comment go. He was probably just messing with me. Right?

              The boy Wyatt turned out to be a pretty good tour guide, I had to admit. He pointed out the different rooms as we went, giving some interesting facts about the history of the house. But when I asked him how long he’d been working at Belrose, he gave me a vague answer. I figured it must be a requirement for all of the abbey’s staff to be evasive and cold.

              An ornate oil painting nestled in an alcove caught my attention. It featured a stern looking woman in all black, her hand on the shoulder of a boy seated in an armchair. He looked a few years younger than me. The faces were so realistic I had to stop and stare. “Who are these people?” I asked Wyatt.

              He pointed at the boy. “That’s Ivan when he was about thirteen.” His finger shifted to the woman. “And that’s his mother, the late mistress of Belrose Abbey.”

              I studied her severe, lofty expression. “Man…she looks like…”

              “A bucket of sunshine?”

              I sputtered a laugh. “Something like that. Do you know what she was like?”

              “Not really. Ivan doesn’t talk about her with much affection. I think she was pretty tough on him. Miss Easton practically raised him since Ivan’s mother was always busy running the abbey.” Wyatt gave me a sidelong glance. “Speaking of Miss Easton, I should warn you that she thinks Ivan hangs the moon. So don’t be surprised if she doesn’t think your mom is good enough for him.” And with that, he turned to lead me farther down the hall, his warning ringing in my ears.

              As we were nearing what I thought to be the abbey’s entrance, I saw a huge, intricately carved door that Wyatt hadn’t pointed out. “Hey, what’s that room?”

              He stopped and glanced at the door, a mischievous gleam sparking in his eyes. “Oh, that’s just Mr. Helsburg’s office. Would you like to take a look?”

              “Sure, I guess. If it’s allowed.”

              Without responding, he pulled out a pocketknife and stuck it in between the frame and the door, right next to the knob.

              “Hey! What are you doing? If you’re breaking in, it obviously isn’t allowed.” Where did Ivan find this guy? Juvie?

              The lock clicked and the door swung inward, revealing a dark room. Wyatt reached inside and flipped on the light. “Come on. Just a peek. Don’t you want to find out a bit more about your almost-stepdad?”

              The concerns I’d had about Ivan during breakfast resurfaced, tugging at me. What if Mom were making a huge mistake by marrying this guy? Maybe in her desperation to provide for us, she’d plunged into remarrying too hastily. Did she even know anything about his past? Maybe I should do a little investigating, just in case.

              I sighed, resigned. “Fine.”

              Wyatt smiled, but this time it seemed almost genuine. Instinctively, we both glanced over our shoulders to ensure that we were alone. Then we crept into the room and closed the door behind us, my heart pumping, my hands slick with sweat.

              The oak paneled office was richly decorated with giant tapestries, shadowboxes full of expensive-looking artifacts and weapons, and paintings with gold frames. A colossal desk dominated the room, boasting claw-footed legs and a chair that could easily be mistaken for a throne. Wyatt walked over and plopped down in the chair, propping his feet up on the desk. I shook my head, wondering how it was he hadn’t been fired yet.

              I perused the room for a while, looking at the books on the shelves, studying Ivan’s memorabilia, opening the occasional drawer. Trying to get a better sense of who the man was.

              When it seemed as though I had looked over everything—except for the locked file cabinets—I looked at Wyatt, who was still leaning back in the chair, his eyes half closed.

              Placing my hands on my hips, I said, “Well, aside from Mr. Helsburg having a penchant for Faberge eggs and jeweled daggers, I didn’t learn anything new. Unless he likes to hide things in drawers with false bottoms, like in mystery novels.”

              Jokingly, I opened a drawer I’d already gone through, took out the cigars that were inside, and pressed on the wood underneath.

              It sank a little.

              No way.

              I pushed again, harder. Like a seesaw, the opposite side of the wood panel came up and I was able to grab it and pull it out of the drawer. I stared at the thin piece of wood for a second, dazed.

              Wyatt had left the chair and walked over to me, his eyes wide at my discovery. For once, he was at a loss.

              Then the both of us, as one unit, peered down into the drawer and saw what was resting there—a letter, yellowed with age.

              Before Wyatt could snatch it, I picked it up with trembling hands, gently took the small note out of the envelope, and began to read it aloud. “My Dearest Celeste…there have been times I’ve felt trapped in this life. It’s as if I’ve been locked away in an attic room ever since I was a boy. I’ve grown up never knowing there was a vast and lustrous world outside that door. Then someone came along, an angel, with a key. She opened the attic door, and the boy, who’s now a man, saw the world for the first time. A life that he’d never known existed. You are the key, Celeste. But more than that, you’re life to me. The world I’d never imagined.”

              As I read the letter, the blood drained from my hands, leaving them cold and numb. These words matched the speech I’d heard Ivan give my mom on the balcony. So it
had
been rehearsed. With another woman.

              While I’d been reading, Wyatt left my side and sat on the arm of a chair. His face had grown pale and it looked stark against his ink black hair. His expression seemed almost…sad.

              Before I could try to figure out his mood shift, I heard approaching footsteps echoing through the hall. Whoever it was would be here within seconds.

              We leapt into action. Wyatt ran to the door, locked it, and flipped off the lights while I stuffed the letter back into the drawer and replaced the false bottom and cigars. Then Wyatt grabbed my arm and pulled me into the far corner, behind a floor lamp.

              My heart slamming against my chest, I ripped my arm out of his grasp. “You think a lamp is gonna hide us?” I rasped.

              “No, but this will.” Wyatt pushed his palm hard against the wall, opening a human-sized slit in the oak paneling. A shadowy passageway lay beyond.

              I gasped.

              A key clinked into the lock of the office door. It had to be Ivan.

              As the doorknob turned, Wyatt pulled me into the passage with him, and clicked the paneling back into place, throwing us into total darkness.