JULIA After seeing the newly developed pictures from the camera in her father’s desk drawer, Julia couldn’t sleep. The wind had come up and the house shutters clattered against the sills. The tree branches rattled against the windows, and she swore she heard rats in the house again, scurrying through walls and thumping along ceilings. The unsettling noises seemed to echo the thoughts in her mind, banging and leaping and ricocheting inside her skull.
Why did her father have Lilly’s things in his desk? Who was the baby in the picture? Her, or her dead sister? It was hard to tell if the baby looked as much like Mother as she did, but maybe her sister was a result of the affair, and therefore her half sister? Was it possible her father’s business trips to buy and sell horses were a cover-up for meeting Lilly and his other daughter? Is that why her parents were so unhappy? And what had they done that needed forgiveness? More importantly, how was she ever going to put all the pieces together and learn the truth? When she finally fell asleep after three a.m., her dreams were filled with clowns and elephants and sideshow freaks.
The next day, a heavy rain lashed the trees and buildings, turning the estate grounds into a muddy mess. Julia pulled a wool toque over her head and made her way over to the barn to ask Claude if he knew how to get into the attic. Something had to be done about the rats before they multiplied, and the attic seemed like the logical place to start. By the time she made it to the barn office, her pants and hair were soaked and she wished she’d waited until the rain let up. She found Claude bent over in a stall, cleaning out a horse’s hoof.
“Do you know how to get into the attic?” she said. “I keep hearing rats and I need to figure out how they’re getting in and where they’re nesting.”
“Nope,” he said. “Never been up there.”
“Well, I can’t find a staircase or a trapdoor anywhere,” she said. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Claude shrugged and kept working.
“Could you come over to the house and help me look? Maybe set some traps?”
“Busy right now.”
“I know. Just come over when you’re finished.”
He straightened and bent over again to pick up the horse’s other front foot. “Can’t today. I’ve got to clean up the broken branches in the yard before it storms again.”
“It’s pouring out.”
“Need to catch up on paperwork then.”
Julia’s shoulders dropped and she sighed. She had tried to be pleasant, but her patience was wearing thin. “Are you upset with me for some reason? Other than making you bring the nurse mare’s foal back and taking in the orphan? I know that’s not how you’ve been doing things around here, but I—”
“Nope.”
“They why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you look me in the eye? Why is helping me find a way into the attic too much to ask?”
He dropped the horse’s leg, straightened, and regarded her, his face void of emotion. “I’m just trying to do my job, Miss Blackwood.”
“Well, it’s seems like you’re annoyed with me, or avoiding me, or. . . I don’t know.” She threw her hands in the air. “Are you upset because I’m here? I know you don’t like change and you think I’m too young to be your boss, and I’ll admit I’ve got a lot to learn but—”
He shook his head, his mouth in a hard, thin line.
“What is it then?” she said. “You seemed fine when I first arrived. But after that your attitude changed. Did I say something wrong?”
“Nope.” He stared at her, unyielding, resolute.
She couldn’t shake the feeling he was hiding something. Maybe he knew about her father’s affair, or whatever it was that her parents had done to her sister. Maybe he kept her at a distance because he didn’t want her to ask questions. Why else would he avoid talking to her? Then another thought hit her and she drew in a sharp breath. Oh dear God, maybe he and Mother were having an affair.
“Did you think my mother was going to leave the farm to you?” The words came out before she could stop them.
He clenched his jaw, his temples throbbing in and out. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m a good person. Maybe I should give up.” She turned and started to walk away. “Never mind, I’ll ask Fletcher for help.”
“Miss Blackwood?” Claude called out.
Julia turned around, hoping he had changed his mind. “Yes?”
“The rat poison is on the top shelf in the tack room.”
She deflated. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.” She thought about saying she needed to find out where the rats were before she figured out how to get rid of them, but changed her mind. There was no point in irritating him further. She left the barn and went back to the house, gusts of rain hitting her face like a thousand tiny bullets. Maybe Claude’s disregard for her was simpler than what she imagined. Maybe after working for her parents for twenty-seven years, he had become just like them. Whatever the case, they needed to learn how to get along before things got any worse.
She hung her wet coat up in the mudroom, changed into dry clothes, found a flashlight in a kitchen drawer, and went up to the third floor again, determined to find a way into the attic. Perhaps she missed the attic door the first time around. After all, there were so many rooms and doors and closets. This time she searched every bathroom and bedroom, felt along walls and thumped the insides of closets, examined every ceiling for pull-down trapdoors. Again, she found nothing.
In the last bedroom at the end of the main hall, she entered the odd little extra room and pulled the string on the bare bulb. She set the flashlight on the claw-foot table and pushed aside the hatboxes to get closer to the walls. Then she stopped, suddenly uneasy. The headless dressmaker’s dummy seemed to be watching, judging her for searching the house. It almost felt like Mother was scrutinizing her from the great beyond. Before proceeding any further, she dragged the dressmaker’s dummy out of the little room and draped a sheet over it. Then she went back in and ran her fingers along the wainscoting to see if she had missed the outline of a short door, even though it seemed like an odd place for an attic access in a home as large as Blackwood Manor. Because judging by the house’s footprint, the attic had to be enormous.