The Perfect Bride

Chapter Ten

It was raining when Jillian woke the next morning. It took her a moment to recognize the sound when she opened her eyes. It wasn’t the light patter of raindrops on the windows. No, it was the roaring of a torrential downpour, the wind howling, the rain coming down in sheets strong enough to batter the glass.

She turned her head toward the window to see it was still ominously dark outside, the sky a thick, impenetrable gray. She almost would have found it easier to believe it was still the middle of the night. Only the fact that it wasn’t completely black out gave any sign it wasn’t.

Just another day at Sutton Hall, she thought, grimacing. She could only imagine how gloomy the manor would be in the rain.

Turning her head in the other direction, she spotted the chair she’d leaned against the passageway door, where it would have been knocked over if the passage was opened. It had seemed unlikely the attacker would return. By dinner it had been common knowledge that she and the Suttons knew about the passages, leading to some unspoken tension between the Suttons and the staff. The attacker would have to be crazy to try to use it again to enter her room knowing she was aware of it.

Except, of course, it was pretty clear that “crazy” was exactly what this person was.

But the night had passed without incident. She hadn’t heard a sound, the chair was still standing and the passageway remained closed.

And the threat remained, still lurking somewhere in the manor, no doubt waiting for a chance to strike again.

Shoving aside the sense of foreboding, Jillian showered and dressed, then made her way down to the kitchen. As usual, Rosie was at her station behind the counter, bustling about, preparing breakfast. But beneath her usual industriousness, Jillian sensed she was more agitated than usual, her body rigid with tension, her face heavy with a frown.

“Good morning,” Jillian said tentatively.

Rosie glanced up and nodded before returning her attention to what she was doing. “Morning. Breakfast is almost ready. I’ll get you set up in the dining room right quick.”

“That’s all right. I don’t mind eating in here.” Sitting alone in the dining room at that massive table didn’t sound like much fun at the moment.

Rosie opened her mouth as though prepared to argue, then simply shook her head. “Suit yourself. Have a seat.”

Jillian eased herself into a chair at the kitchen table. “It looks pretty bad outside.”

“That it does,” Rosie agreed. “Supposed to get even worse by tonight.”

“Do you get a lot of storms like this around here?”

“Sometimes. Up here in the mountains, never know how bad it’ll get, with the wind and all. This one’s supposed to be worse than most, though.”

Jillian figured that explained the woman’s mood. She couldn’t blame her, as she took in the rain lashing the windows only a few feet away. It looked even darker outside from this vantage point. If it was this bad already, she didn’t want to imagine how much worse it could get by nightfall.

“It rained on my wedding day,” Rosie murmured. Jillian glanced over at her in surprise. The woman’s eyes were focused on the windows, her gaze far away. “I probably should have considered that some kind of omen.”

“What do you mean?” Jillian asked, curious.

The woman didn’t respond at first. After a moment, she suddenly blinked and shook herself, as though only just realizing she’d spoken aloud. Pressing her lips together, Rosie gave her head a slight shake and went back to cooking.

Any hope Jillian had of getting Rosie to open up a little more was quickly dashed. Rosie was in no mood to talk, deflecting Jillian’s attempts with a few brusque words and going about her business. Jillian was left to eat in silence and contemplate the gathering storm.

Jillian was almost finished with breakfast when the door to the dining room suddenly swung open and Grace stepped through. Scanning the room, she finally spotted Jillian and smiled. “Good morning, Ms. Jones. I was just looking for you. Ms. Sutton asked me to show you to the ballroom. She said you were interested in seeing it and she has some ideas to show you.”

Jillian knew there was a ballroom, of course, having seen pictures on the website. It hadn’t been fully restored yet, but those glimpses had made it clear it was a beautiful space and Jillian had been eager to see it in person. But the idea of venturing anywhere alone with Grace was much less appealing.

Jillian eyed the woman carefully, trying to keep the wariness off her face. Grace was as impossible to read as ever, something Jillian was starting to find more and more unnerving. Jillian suspected Grace wasn’t the only one who’d known about the passageways. Chances were everyone at Sutton Hall who’d worked here for years had. But Grace was the only one who’d known for sure, and who’d lied about it, and Jillian couldn’t help but view her with extra suspicion.

Not that she could afford to show it, of course. She mustered a smile. “That sounds great. Thanks.” There was no way to decline the offer, and no plausible reason she could. If anything, this might give her a chance to crack the woman.

“Thank you for breakfast, Rosie,” Jillian said. She started to rise from the table, picking up her plate as she did.

“Leave it,” Rosie ordered, gesturing toward the plate. “I’ll get it.” She glanced back at the windows, her gaze far away as she took in the rain, as though she’d already forgotten Jillian was there.

Doing as Rosie had asked, Jillian followed Grace out of the kitchen, through the dining room and back out into the main hall.

The ballroom was on the second floor in the west wing. Jillian fell into step beside Grace as she led the way up the staircase. She could imagine partygoers in all their finery making this very walk, through the entryway, up the curving staircase and on to the ballroom.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. With the tunnels,” Jillian added when Grace shot her a look. “I hope I didn’t get you into trouble.”

“It’s my own fault. I should have realized that with so many new people here now it would be impossible to keep some things private.”

Jillian couldn’t help but wonder if Grace had more in mind than just the tunnels when talking about things she’d wanted to keep private. “You didn’t think even the Suttons needed to know about them?”

“It truly never occurred to me to tell them before. I’d all but forgotten about the passageways. No one’s used them in years. They were hardly needed when Mr. Sutton was alive and there were only four of us living here.”

Jillian honestly couldn’t tell if she believed her. Before she could decide, they’d reached the second floor. Grace didn’t slow for an instant, immediately moving down the corridor.

“After all those years of it just being the four of you, it must be strange for you having people like me coming in and being given the run of the place.” Out of the corner of her eye, Jillian carefully watched Grace’s reaction to the subject.

There was none. Not a single muscle moved on her face. “Sutton Hall is a magnificent building,” she said. “It really should be shared with people. It deserves to be better known.”

“You really do love this place.”

Grace nodded. “I do,” she said dispassionately.

“You must have been relieved the Suttons decided to keep you on.”

For the first time, a trace of emotion cracked the woman’s cool facade, the flash so brief Jillian wasn’t sure what it was. Irritation? Anger? Pain? “Yes. This has been my home for so long I can’t imagine where else I could go. Mr. and Ms. Sutton have been quite generous to allow me to stay.”

“But that doesn’t make it any easier having new people come in and take over a house that feels more like yours than theirs, does it?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She smiled slightly, with a trace of sadness. It was the first genuine emotion Jillian could remember seeing from the woman, and made her seem much more human. In an instant, Jillian’s perspective shifted and it was as if she was seeing Grace with new eyes. Outwardly the woman projected cool competence, but beneath that chilly exterior was a real woman with a deep well of sadness.

Even as Jillian felt a twinge of sympathy, the sad smile began to fade, the woman’s mask falling back into place. “Things change, and not everything works out the way we like. And we all have no choice but to adjust to that. I suppose the biggest mistake one can make is to try to hold on to something that can’t be kept.”

Before Jillian could decide how to interpret that, they stopped in front of a set of double doors. Jillian noticed one of them was already ajar.

As if realizing she’d confessed more than she’d intended to, Grace gave her head a small shake and straightened her spine. She gestured to the door. “Here we are. I’m sure Ms. Sutton will be along shortly, if she’s not inside already.”

“You’re not coming in?”

“I’m afraid I have some tasks to tend to before the storm gets worse.” She frowned slightly. “Unless you’d like me to...?”

“No,” Jillian said automatically with a wave of her hand. “That’s not necessary. Thank you for bringing me up here.”

“Of course.” With a nod, Grace turned and started back down the hallway.

Jillian pushed the door open all the way and peered inside. Before her was a massive, cavernous space. There were a few dim lights turned on, but they didn’t come close to illuminating the entire area. Long shadows stretched across the floor, and she couldn’t even get a sense how big it truly was.

It suddenly struck her that being alone here might not be a good idea. She glanced back, only to find Grace already halfway down the corridor and rapidly vanishing from view. There was no way to call her back without it looking odd.

Ten minutes ago she hadn’t been sure she wanted to be alone with Grace—now she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone without her. Make up your mind, she told herself.

Taking a breath, she poked her head through the doorway and surveyed the space. One glance was all it took to take her breath away.

The room was massive, standing two stories high and stretching as far in length. Along the walls were huge mirrors that reflected the space back in on it. The ceiling was dotted with elaborate crystal chandeliers, and right in the middle of it was a domed skylight revealing the heavens. She could imagine the view it must offer on a clear evening, the starlight sparkling through the glass. At the moment all that could be seen were the churning gray clouds of the storm outside.

It would certainly be an impressive space for a wedding reception, or one of the balls it had been intended for over a century ago. As she stepped onto the hardwood floor, her footsteps echoing high into the ceilings far overhead, it was almost as if she could sense the ghosts of long-forgotten dancers moving around her, still taking their turns on the floor.

There was a stage on one side, closed off by heavy curtains. If Meredith was here, she could be back there.

Jillian called out. “Hello?”

The only response was her own voice echoing back at her, repeating several times, each one softer, until it was barely a whisper.

The sound only emphasized the emptiness of the space—and just how alone she was in it.

Unease flickered along her nerve endings, raising goose bumps on her skin. She remembered her earlier instinct, that she shouldn’t be in here alone. She’d let her curiosity override her common sense. There was no telling what—or who—could be lurking in the murky shadows. She should wait outside, in the relative safety of the hall.

She started to turn back to the door—

It burst open, a large figure filling the frame, looming in front of her.

She nearly screamed, her heart leaping into her throat, cutting off the sound and her breath.

Seconds later, Ray stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Before she could make a sound, his eyes met hers. He straightened in surprise. “What are you doing in here?”

Both his surprise and his irritation seemed genuine enough that she relaxed the tiniest bit. He hadn’t been expecting to find her here, hadn’t seen her.

Hadn’t been trying to scare her.

“I’m looking for Meredith,” she explained, suddenly feeling foolish. “Have you seen her?”

He gave his head a sharp shake. “No.” With that, he started into the room, brushing past her.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

“We need to get these windows covered. The storm’s supposed to get pretty bad.”

“Ed isn’t taking care of it?” she asked, half wondering why the groundskeeper would be doing it.

“We’re all pitching in. It’s a big place. There’s a lot to be done.”

Before she could wonder who else he meant, Zack stepped through the doorway, carrying some wooden boards tucked under his arm. As soon as he spotted her, his lips curved in a smile. “Well, hey there.”

Jillian resisted the eye roll that was becoming second nature when she encountered the man. “Good morning.”

“Zack,” Ray barked before his son could respond. “You can get started over there.”

His jaw clenching, Zack nodded tightly and started toward where his father had indicated, though not before shooting Jillian a wink.

“Have you seen Meredith?” she asked him.

He called back over his shoulder. “Nope.”

Frowning, she glanced back toward the open doorway. She wondered where Meredith was. In any case, Jillian would probably be better off looking for her elsewhere. She was only in the way here.

She looked around for Ray and Zack to ask them to tell Meredith she’d gone back downstairs, but didn’t see either man. They seemed to have disappeared. The cavernous space before her was empty and still.

The goose bumps prickling again, she frowned and made her way back to the doorway.

She slipped into the hallway, relaxing slightly when she was back in the well-lit corridor. She glanced down it in both directions. It was empty. Meredith was nowhere in sight.

Jillian slowly made her way back to the main stairs, fully expecting Meredith to appear at any moment. As she did, she thought back to her conversation with Grace. The woman had said all the right things, but was she truly grateful to the Suttons for keeping her on? It would only be natural that she’d feel some resentment that she had to rely on their kindness at all. Despite what the woman had said, Jillian still wasn’t convinced Grace was all that happy having anyone here, let alone new owners she had to report to.

She was still considering the question when she reached the stairs. Preoccupied, she placed one hand on the railing.

It had barely made contact when she felt a sudden rush of motion behind her.

She didn’t get a chance to process it, to turn toward the sound.

A split second later something crashed into her back and sent her flying forward.

A startled scream—short, shrill—tore from her mouth before her throat suddenly seized up in panic, in terror, cutting off the sound. She was launched in midair, and for an endless moment she could see the stairs stretching out below her, the bottom impossibly far away.

And then she was hurtling, plunging, tumbling downward. There wasn’t even time to throw her hands out to try to soften her landing. Before she could raise her arms, the stairs were rushing up to meet her. She crashed hard on her right side, pain bursting in her shoulder and arm. Another scream pressed against her throat. It was cut off by the force of another blow as she continued to roll, her legs flying over her head and banging against the stairs. Explosions of pain erupted in her back, her hip, her arms and legs as she plunged down the stairs, different parts of her body striking the hard stone and sharp edges over and over again.

Finally, blessedly, she tumbled over one last time, crashing onto her back on the landing, every inch of her body screaming in pain.

She lay there unmoving, trying to pull in a breath, to deal with the pain, to process what had just happened.

Pushed, she recognized faintly. Someone had pushed her down the stairs.

That was what the feeling of force against her back had been. There’d been no cry of warning, no sound of shock after the impact, nothing to indicate this had been an accident.

No. It had been deliberate. Someone had purposely shoved her down the stairs.

Staring blindly above her, she saw something enter her range of vision. Something at the top of the stairs.

Blinking rapidly, she tried to focus on the object, to see what it was.

It was a person, she registered, her heart pounding harder. The person who’d pushed her?

The figure gradually took form, the face becoming clearer, revealing—

Meredith, Jillian realized. The breath caught in her throat, surprise and confusion and wariness churning inside her.

Meredith stood at the top of the stairs. She made no sound, made no move to come down. She simply stood there, staring down at her.

Jillian peered closer, willing her eyes to focus, desperately trying to read the woman’s face.

But no matter how hard Jillian tried, she couldn’t read Meredith’s expression, couldn’t tell if she was peering down at her with shock that she’d fallen—or disappointment that it hadn’t been so much worse....