Chapter Three
26 March, 1890
I broke my hand mirror this morning. Before I could throw the pieces away, it occurred to me that if I hid one of the slivers of the glass in my handkerchief, I could possible use it to see behind me…my plan came just in time, for this morning I was called into the drawing-room again. Feeling quite clever and clandestine, I lifted the mirror in the midst of my laughter at one of Mr. Rucastle's stories, looking as though I was wiping a tear from my eye. I confess to being disappointed—there was nothing behind me that I could see.
However, I was unwilling to give up, and a few minutes later when Mr. Rucastle's story again took a turn to the comical, I lifted the mirror and caught sight of a small, bearded man in a grey suit! Now the road by the house is an important one, and people are often seen on it. But this man was leaning against the fence, staring intently upon the house. I was both startled and excited at the sight, but when I put the mirror down I noticed Mrs. Rucastle's eyes upon me. I instantly knew she had somehow divined my purpose, although I am certain the mirror was hidden.
"Jephro," she said in her plaintive voice, "there is an impertinent fellow upon the road there who stares up at Miss Hunter."
"No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?" my employer asked.
"No, I know of no one in these parts," I answered. Indeed, friends are not a commodity I have a ready supply of.
"Dear me! How very impertinent!" Mrs. Rucastle said. There was something ill-natured in her voice, almost bordering on the petulant. "Kindly turn round and motion to him to go away," she requested of me.
"Surely it would be better to take no notice," I said.
"No, no, we should have him loitering here always," Mr. Rucastle told me. "Kindly turn round and wave him away like that."
I did, and immediately Mrs. Rucastle drew down the blind. As soon as she did so, Mr. Rucastle told me to begin Neddy's lessons, and I've been keeping watch of the boy all day. Who was that man? As I think back over the episode, what strikes me the most is the way Mrs. Rucastle looked at me: as if she wasn't displeased about the man's presence so much as the fact that I saw him there.
27 March, 1890
Neddy is in bed with a cold, and I've spent the morning wandering about the house (avoiding the other residents the best I can) and I am now shut in my bedroom. There is one other aspect to my living here that intrigues me: the house itself.
Perhaps that was phrased incorrectly. It is not the house that I find fascinating, but rather its usage. As far as I can tell, the entire east wing in not used at all. Perhaps it is not so very odd, since it is a large house with few occupants, but the door leading to it is always locked. It seems that I cannot turn around without finding another mystery in this place.
28 March, 1890
I am shaking. I had just put Neddy to bed and had come back into my room. It was still relatively early in the evening, but I had no desire to go back downstairs, so I decided to amuse myself by investigating my room. Not, of course, that I hadn't already, but there was one of my drawers that remained locked. I've been a little annoyed at this, since the other two drawers in the chest are not large enough for all of my belongings, but I suddenly remembered my bunch of keys that I had been given, and I wondered if one of them would open the drawer. The first key I tried clicked open the lock, and I eagerly opened it only to find a coil of my hair.
At least, I assumed it was my hair- but how could it have gotten in there? A moment's reflection told me that this was impossible, so I rushed to my trunk where I had stored my own hair away. It was still there. I set both specimens on the bed and examined them. How remarkably similar they were! If mine had not been tied with a purple ribbon, I wouldn't have known which was mine and which was not. They are both so alike in thickness and in color that if the hair did not come from my own head, then it must have been that of my twin. I am shocked and can think of no explanation. It must have something to do with Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle's fixation on the state of my hair, but what?
29 March, 1890
Now that I am certain that something is amiss at this house, I am determined to investigate. This morning as I was coming up the stairs, I saw Mr. Rucastle walk out of the locked door that leads to the unused wing. His face was terribly red, and his veins stood out at his temples. His brow was crinkled in rage, and all I could think of was that I was very glad his wrath was not focused on me. I could see no trace of the jovial man who first hired me, and he hurried past me without acknowledging my presence.
I wandered about the grounds today with Neddy, taking special care to examine the outside of the mysterious wing. There are four windows, and while they are all dirty, only one of them is shut up. Before I could take a closer look, Mr. Rucastle himself appeared.
"Ah," he said. "You must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters."
I assured him I was not offended, and then I gently mentioned my notice of the shut up windows. I was very careful to keep my voice full of nothing but casual, indifferent observation.
He looked surprised at my remark. "Photography is one of my hobbies," said he. "I have made up my dark room up there. But dear me! What an observant young lady we have come upon!" His tone was that of a jest, but his eyes were full of suspicion and annoyance.
I quickly attempted to put his fears at rest by pretending I hadn't seen his true feelings. I laughed. "I don't think I'm very observant, no." (I hope I lied; I like to think that I am very observant) "I would ask to see some of your photographs, but I am afraid I would be very dull and unappreciative. Photography is not something I am familiar with." I smiled apologetically.
"Well, there is no need for me to bore you with them," he said quickly.
This answered my question; I have seen nothing in my week here that suggests Mr. Rucastle dabbles in photography. I am positive that he agreed so quickly because he has no photographs to show me.
There is a secret about that wing, and I am going to discover it. I can't help but feel it is my duty to investigate. Whether Mr. Rucastle's actions turn out to be illegal or not, there is something wrong, and I may be the only one who can uncover it.
30 March, 1890
Today has been quiet. Since seeing the man by the road, I have not been required to wear specific gowns nor sit in the drawing room.
31 March, 1890
For the first time, I find myself thankful that Mr. Toller was inebriated today: he sloppily left the key in the lock of the door to the east wing. I took advantage of this immediately, hardly believing that my chance had come. All three Rucastles were downstairs, so I turned the key in the lock, and entered. The passage was unpapered and uncarpeted, and I wandered around a corner to find three doors, two of which were open. Both led into empty rooms. But the middle door—the locked one—nearly frightened me. The outside of it was fastened with one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring on the wall, and fastened at the other with a stout cord. This was the room with the only shuttered window.
As I stood there, wondering what on earth could be behind it, I heard a noise come from within and saw a shadow pass through the dim light that shone underneath the door. I have never felt such an insensible, needless terror: I ran. I rushed out of the hall, through the door- and right into Mr. Rucastle.
He smiled at me. It was terrible. "So, it was you, then," he said kindly. "I thought it must be when I saw the door open."
"Oh, I am so frightened!" I said, deciding to act like a typical, hysterical female. In this instance, it was not a difficult performance.
"My dear young lady," his voice—so soothing, so overwhelmingly coaxing—"what has frightened you, my dear young lady?" He quite overdid it in his tone, and I had no trust in his sympathy.
"I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing," I told him, still behaving in the manner of a frightened little girl. "But it was so lonely and eerie in that dim light that I was frightened and ran out again! Oh, it was so dreadfully still and stifling in there!"
"Only that?" he asked me with a keen glance.
Oh, no, I thought, but I kept going. "Why, what did you think?" I asked innocently, choking back (nonexistent) frightened tears.
"Why do you think that I lock this door?" he asked.
"I am sure I do not know."
"It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?" his voice was still kind and fatherly, but it made me uneasy.
"I am sure if I had known—" I began.
"Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again—" here his face abruptly changed, from that of a caring, benevolent gentlemen into the furious face of a demon—"I'll throw you to the mastiff!"
I had no need to pretend to be afraid; I was, most dreadfully. I don't even remember what I did exactly—I suppose I must have run for my room, which is why I am now shivering on my bed. But now I am angry, too. There is someone in there, in that wing. I cannot help but remember the way Mr. Rucastle looked at me when he found me. I was no threat to him before, but I know that if he now thinks I am now—to whatever he is doing—then I am not entirely safe.
For once, I am thankful for my irregular sleeping habits. Mr. Toller is still very drunk, and since he is the only one who can control the mastiff, I do not believe the beast has been let loose tonight. As soon as I am certain the rest of the house is asleep, I am slipping away and sending a wire to Mr. Holmes. I am out of my depth here, and need him "at the back of me."
