Chapter 7

Violet walked down the dimly lit corridor, her mind still turning over the conversation she had just had with Augustus. The momentary glimpse of emotion in his otherwise cold demeanor unsettled her, though she couldn't quite say why. There was something about this family—something that seemed to lurk just beneath the surface of their carefully constructed facades.

As she neared the grand staircase, she caught sight of Theodore standing at the bottom, leaning against the banister. He seemed to be waiting for her.

"Miss Rowe," he greeted, his voice low, careful.

Violet hesitated only for a second before continuing her descent. "Theodore. Still awake?"

He offered a small, humorless smile. "I could ask you the same."

She reached the last step and stopped a few feet away from him. There was something about the way he watched her—an unreadable calculation behind his sharp eyes, as if he were trying to decipher what had just transpired in his father's study.

"I take it you spoke with my father?" he finally asked.

Violet nodded. "Yes. I gave him my assessment of your first lesson."

Theodore tilted his head slightly, his expression carefully neutral. "And?"

"He was… pleased," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure if that was true. "Or at least as pleased as he allows himself to be."

A flicker of something—perhaps amusement—crossed Theodore's face. "That sounds about right."

She hesitated before adding, "He also mentioned that you and Clara were tutored by your mother before she passed."

Theodore's reaction was subtle but telling. His fingers curled slightly against the banister, and for a moment, his usually steady expression faltered. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. "Yes," he said simply.

Violet waited, hoping he would elaborate, but he didn't.

"That must have been a comfort," she ventured. "To be taught by her."

Theodore's lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked away. "She was a good teacher," he said after a pause. "She wanted the best for us."

Violet studied him, the way his voice had dipped into something softer, something more vulnerable. "It sounds like she cared for you deeply."

At that, Theodore met her gaze again. "She did." A beat passed before he added, "But caring doesn't always change fate, does it?"

The words settled in the air between them, heavy and unresolved. Violet didn't know how to respond, and before she could think of anything to say, Theodore straightened, shaking off whatever moment of weakness had passed through him.

"You should get some rest, Miss Rowe," he said. "These halls have a way of making people restless at night."

There was something unsettling about the way he said it, but Violet nodded nonetheless. "Goodnight, Theodore."

He gave her one last look before turning on his heel and disappearing down the corridor.

As Violet made her way to her room, she couldn't shake the feeling that Theodore had been trying to tell her something—something that he couldn't quite say outright. The weight of this house, the weight of its history, pressed down on her shoulders.

That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep did not come easily. The whispers of the past seemed to stir in the walls, and for the first time since arriving at the Halloway estate, she truly wondered if she had stepped into something far darker than she had realized.

The next morning, Violet awoke with the sun shining through her bedroom curtains. Since her time here, she hadn't seen the rays of the beautiful celestial, the sky often shrouded in mist or gray clouds. The golden warmth spilling into her room felt almost foreign, a small but welcome change. She decided that a morning stroll was in order—an opportunity to breathe in the crisp air and clear her mind instead of remaining trapped within the mansion's oppressive grandeur.

As she stepped outside, the estate felt transformed in the sunlight, the once-shadowed pathways now illuminated, casting long, delicate patterns through the trees. The gardens, usually solemn under the mist and gloom, now shimmered with color, the flowers stretching toward the golden rays as if awakening from a long slumber. The warmth of the sun kissed her skin, a contrast to the ever-present chill of the house. For the first time since her arrival, she found herself enjoying the moment, relishing the rare brightness that softened the estate's austere presence.

Her steps took her toward the greenhouse, a place she had previously only glimpsed from a distance. Now, with the sun high, she wondered how the light would filter through the glass, how it might breathe life into the space beyond. Would it feel less like the shadowy, abandoned place she had once seen and more like a thriving sanctuary? The thought intrigued her. Curiosity led her inside, where the warm scent of damp earth and blooming flora greeted her, wrapping around her like an embrace. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and roses, and the golden beams of sunlight streamed through the glass panels, casting a dappled glow over the vibrant greenery within.

Venturing further, she noticed a secluded area at the far end, an intimate space where someone might have once spent their time in solitude. A worn wooden bench, its surface softened by age, sat beneath an overgrown trellis entwined with ivy. A small table, its paint chipped and faded, stood nearby, still holding a cracked ceramic pot filled with remnants of dried lavender. A few scattered books, their pages yellowed and curling, lay forgotten on the ground, as if someone had once found solace in reading here. It looked untouched, forgotten, yet there was an undeniable sense of presence lingering in the air. As she took in her surroundings, a glint of blue caught her eye, something small and hidden beneath a layer of soil. Just as she turned to investigate, a voice startled her.

"Miss Rowe," came Felix's familiar voice.

She whirled around, her heart pounding. "Felix? I wasn't expecting anyone to be here."

He stepped forward, his usual animated expression subdued. "Neither was I. This place... it used to be Eleanor's retreat. If Clara and Theodore knew you were here, they wouldn't be pleased."

His words left Violet feeling as if she had trespassed somewhere sacred. He gestured for her to follow him.