Free Abigale Hall by Lauren A Forry Page B

the clothes into the wardrobe and shut its doors. She would never get it right. It would always be a bit off.
    It wasn’t until after she finished dressing that she realised Peter’s ring had fallen from her finger. She searched the wardrobe, the windowsill, the floor. It had to be here somewhere. She couldn’t lose that, too. Down on her hands and knees, she peeked under the bed and saw the gold band. The sight of it calmed her. Unable to reach it, she moved the end of the bed, exposing the floor beneath.
    As she bent down to collect the ring, she noticed a crack in the floorboards. The edge of something thin, like a piece of paper, protruded from the crack like a new tooth pushing through the gum. Eliza reached for it when someone pounded on her door.
    â€˜Eliza! Liza! It’s breakfast. We’re going to be late!’
    She slipped the ring onto her finger and moved the bed back into position, forgetting her discovery.
    *
    According to Mrs Pollard, the blue towels Eliza carried belonged in the north hall linen cupboard. This was all well and good except that Mrs Pollard never told Eliza where the linen cupboard was. Which of the seemingly hundreds of doors was it? She balanced the stack in one arm as she tried yet another knob with no success. As she went further down the hall, she was reminded of when they had first moved in with Aunt Bess. So often she was given tasks without being told the necessary information.
    Put that pan away. Away where?
    Take this letter to Mrs Granderson . Where did Mrs Granderson live?
    Give this money to the butcher . Which butcher?
    Eliza learnt to ignore Aunt Bess’s annoyance and ask the necessary questions. Asking a question and receiving a rebuke along with an answer was better than spending an hour running up and down the steps of their building searching for the old woman who lived directly above them.
    This part of the manor was like ice, as if no fires had been lit here for decades. The cold froze Eliza’s joints.
    That noise, again. That groan. Eliza stopped.
    Maybe it was the pipes, but pipes didn’t normally make her heart beat faster. Pipes didn’t remind her of the patients in Rebecca’s hospital. She tried another door. Brooms and buckets but no linens. She continued down the corridor. Every door remained the same. The wallpaper repeated an endless pattern. Eliza had no idea where she was. She clasped the towels tightly, the throb returning to her sore fingers. There appeared to be no end to the hall before her. Behind her looked the same. From which way had she come? Which way should she go? She could not even tell which door was the broom cupboard she last opened. She felt like she was on an assembly line being pulled through a never-ending tunnel. She was dizzy and, when she closed her eyes, felt herself spinning down and down.
    She braced herself against a door. Its carvings pressed into her back, helping to steady her. When her head cleared, she turned to examine them. The image of books lining a bookshelf decorated the dark wood. Balancing the towels in one hand, she ran her fingers over the etchings. She thought of her lone copy of Mrs Miniver and wished she could pull a carving from the door, have it transform from solid wood to soft pages in her hand. Surely a decoration such as this would be for a library. Old manor homes like Thornecroft all had libraries, didn’t they? Eliza reached for the curved gold handle.
    Mrs Pollard’s voice sounded from down the hall. Eliza dropped the towels then hurried to pick them up. In the distance, she noticed Abigale Hall. Why had she not seen it before? Towels in hand, Eliza followed the sound of the housekeeper’s voice, hoping to find the location of the linen cupboard.
    â€˜. . . making a mess of things . . .’
    Halfway down the hall, a door to her right was partway open. Eliza crept closer.
    â€˜. . . she can’t interfere. Leave it to me . . .’
    A light