whisper Beneath the silk
One: T
ed with a wax seal the
iliar script curling like ivy across the thick parchment. Her name-just her name-had been inke
lyn
it knew precisely who she w
t to tear the paper. A single sheet folded inside, cr
ivate collection of vintage gowns. All travel arrangements have been made. Compensa
nmoor
w she'd been found-or why she'd been ch
r grasp. Outside the rain skittered against her attic window like restles
ken once, years ago, in hushed tones at a gallery party in South Kensington, passed between two antique dealers who shared smirks over crystal glasses. The
ph of her mother, laughing in the summer light. Her life had grown so small in recent years-reduced to fabric, thread, and the s
alle
yst
ay
and packed a small bag be
-
marshes and thickets, each mile carrying her further from the echoing streets of London. She wore her mother's wool coat and a
. Just a platform with cracked stone tiles and
th the sea. He wore a driver's cap an
" she
is
r film. Inside, the seats smelled of leather and salt. They drove for nearly a
ly appeared through t
Iron turrets pierced the sky. Crimson silk banners-torn by time-fluttered from stone balconies. The
he pulled into the arched c
od at the
able. Immaculate in black, with silver-threaded cuffs and a face carved from som
, voice low and prec
choice," she said, befor
hed, as if mildly amused.
tered the manor.
estries and portraits so lifelike they seemed to blink when she passed. But what drew her breath away was the staircase-a double
ing," Alaric said, not looking back. "The dres
gowns?" s
'll
oom lined with mannequins. Dozens of them. All draped in silence and dust. A
forward. Her
.. perf
s narrow, the bodice structured with antique boning, and at the hem, tiny rubies had been stiaric said from behind her. "S
You're giving me
said, eyes unreadable. "What
ere, alone wit
-
ee: Threads
d without being ordered. Candles never seemed to melt. She worked in near silence, pulling dre
d day that she fou
e lining of
ed tightly, stained with s
'd bury me in the walls.
illed. She read i
ora? A maid? A lover? Wa
the coat. In the sleev
remember. Th
-
int, Evelyn
ut with wax. In a capelet, a needle rusted dark with age. The clues were minute, but t
had been watching. Waiting. Writing her truth into silk
e feeling that the house was
-