Chapter 34: Stay away from the East wing

The corridor to the west servants' quarters was dimly lit, the flickering sconces casting long, uneven shadows along the stone walls. Cora clutched the linen bundle in her arms tighter as she made her way toward the laundry stairwell. The manor was quieter this time of evening and she regretted not asking another maid to accompany her.

A sudden sound behind her made her pause. She turned.

Emilio stood a few feet away, arms crossed, one shoulder leaning lazily against the wall. His mouth curled in a half-smile that made her stomach twist.

"Evening, little dove," he drawled.

Cora stiffened. "Good evening, Lord Emilio."

He pushed off the wall and began to walk toward her slowly, deliberately, like a cat circling a cornered bird. "Such a delicate thing. You always rush off like I've got fangs. Do I frighten you, Cora?"

She lowered her eyes. "I have work to finish, my lord."

He stepped closer, too close, his shadow falling across her face. "Surely you can spare a moment. I've been watching you, you know. Skittering around like a nervous thing. It's adorable."

Cora took a step back, bumping into the wall. She held her bundle tighter.

"Don't," she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady.

Emilio chuckled, low and amused. "Don't what? Speak to you? Compliment you?" His hand reached out, brushing the sleeve of her arm, slow and possessive.

She flinched, breath catching. "Please, my lord… I'm the Duchess's maid."

"And I'm her brother-in-law," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "So what?"

The sound of quick footsteps echoed around the bend.

Cora turned her head sharply.

Emilio stepped back just in time as Mrs. Carroway appeared, arms folded, brows raised in cool suspicion.

"My lord," she said calmly but pointedly, "I wasn't aware the linen stairwell required your attention."

Emilio smiled thinly. "Just taking a walk. The house is so… charming at night."

Cora immediately dipped her head and moved past him, brushing by Mrs. Carroway like a gust of wind. Her hands trembled slightly, but she kept her pace steady until she vanished around the corner.

Mrs. Carroway watched her go, then turned her gaze to Emilio. "Might I suggest your lordship take his walks elsewhere? The servants have enough to do without interruptions."

Emilio's smile faltered for half a second. Then he gave a mocking bow. "Of course. Thank you for the suggestion."

And he disappeared into the corridor, his shadow lingering a moment longer than he did.

The Next Morning

The morning mist had barely lifted from the gardens when the sound of hooves crunching over gravel echoed through the front courtyard. Evelyn stood near the windows of the drawing room, her fingers loosely wrapped around a teacup, watching the lone rider dismount and hand something over to the butler at the door.

Cora entered moments later, dusting flour from her apron. "A message just came, my lady. From London, I believe."

Evelyn turned, her heart giving a small flutter despite herself.

"From His Grace?"

"I assume so. Mr. Morton took it straight to Mrs. Carroway, and she asked me to bring it to you at once."

Evelyn nodded, setting her cup aside. "Thank you, Cora."

The sealed envelope was handed over: crested wax, the Duke's official insignia pressed into it. Neat, efficient and impersonal. She slit it open with the small ivory knife from the side table and unfolded the heavy parchment.

There were only a few lines in his stark, almost surgical handwriting.

Duchess,

I will be returning by week's end. Prepare the household for my arrival. - N.

That was it.

No salutation. No inquiry into her well-being. No mention of missing her, nor a single word of affection. Just a practical note, as though she were merely one of his stewards managing the estate in his absence.

Evelyn stared at the message for several seconds before slowly lowering it.

Cora hovered nearby, sensing her disappointment but knowing better than to pry. "Shall I inform Mrs. Carroway?"

Evelyn nodded. "Yes. Tell her the Duke arrives within days."

Cora hesitated. "Is that all, my lady?"

A pause. Evelyn glanced down at the letter again. Her lips twitched, not in amusement, but something like weary disbelief.

"That's all," she said softly. "He said he'd write… but this is the first word I've had since he left."

She turned to the window again, watching the fading outline of the rider gallop back down the hill, the letter still clutched in her hand.

"I suppose I expected too much," she muttered under her breath.

Behind her, Cora cast a sympathetic glance and quietly slipped from the room, leaving her mistress alone with the cold, crisp parchment and the unwelcome ache blooming in her chest.

Later that afternoon Evelyn, still holding the Duke's brief letter in the folds of her gown, was grateful when Juliana appeared at her chamber door.

"You look as though you're about to start talking to the portraits," Juliana teased, leaning lazily against the doorframe. "Come. You've barely explored a quarter of this mausoleum of a house. Let's walk."

Evelyn smiled despite herself. "You're right. I've been meaning to venture beyond the same three corridors."

"Then let me be your guide," Juliana said grandly, sweeping her arm. "The grand duchess's tour sponsored by a thoroughly bored little sister with too much time on her hands."

They walked through corridors Evelyn had never really paid much attention to before; the gallery halls lined with faded family portraits, curtained alcoves, and tiny balconies overlooking distant wings of the estate. Juliana chattered as they moved, her skirts swishing with each step, voice carrying like bells through the high-ceilinged halls.

"See that stairwell? I used to sneak down it for midnight honey cakes with cousin Emilio when we were little. He always got caught. I never did."

"You were the clever one?" Evelyn asked, amused.

"No," Juliana smirked. "Just the favorite."

They passed a dusty music room where Juliana plinked a few broken notes on a cracked harpsichord, then the grand solarium filled with wilted orchids and ivy-covered columns.

"This was Mama's favorite room," Juliana said softly. "Before she passed. Nathaniel shut it up afterward. He doesn't say so, but I think it reminds him too much of her."

Evelyn's gaze lingered on the tangle of sunlight and dead vines. "I can see why. It's beautiful in a sad way."

"Like most things here," Juliana murmured, then quickly brightened. "Come on. Let me show you my favorite hiding place."

"This was my secret escape as a girl," Juliana said, leading Evelyn into a glass alcove where a single worn chaise still sat beneath a wall of climbing roses. "I used to bring books here and hide from my governess."

"It's beautiful," Evelyn murmured, running her fingers along the petals of a blush-pink bloom.

As they wandered farther into the eastern side of the manor, Evelyn noticed how the air grew cooler, the light dimmer. The windows here were smaller, the drapes heavier. The halls were quieter and dustier, almost forgotten.

"This part of the manor… it feels different," Evelyn said, glancing around. "A lot quieter and deserted."

"It's older," Juliana said shortly. "Original to the first Wycliffe generations. This wing has been closed off for decades."

They stood before a long corridor sealed at the far end with a heavy oak door bound with iron. A faded tapestry hung beside it, depicting a hunting scene. Unlike the rest of the manor, this part of the house bore no recent polish or flowers. It felt… different.

Evelyn peered at them, then looked to Juliana, who had gone still, her usual chatter replaced by sudden tension.

"What's in there?" Evelyn asked gently.

Juliana's eyes darted to the doors. Her lips pressed together.

"We should turn back now," she said.

Evelyn frowned. "But you were just..."

"This wing is forbidden," Juliana said with a forced smile, tugging lightly on Evelyn's hand. "No one is allowed in. Not servants, not guests. Not even me."

Her voice was light, but there was something beneath it. Something tight and wary. Evelyn's curiosity prickled.

"Why?" she asked. "What's in there?"

Juliana shook her head. "Don't ask, Evelyn."

"You brought me all the way here."

"I forgot we were headed this direction," Juliana said quickly. "Truly. Let's go back."

Evelyn lingered for a moment, eyes fixed on the heavy doors.

Juliana tugged again, her voice just a shade too sharp now. "Please."

That word. It wasn't often Juliana used it with such urgency.

Evelyn finally relented, letting herself be pulled away. But as they walked back toward the main halls, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder once more.

The east wing, sealed and silent, loomed like a locked diary full of secrets that the manor had no intention of giving up easily.

And Evelyn, Duchess or not was beginning to want the key.