At two years old, little Thomas Edmund Sharpe had let everyone know that he lived the life at his own pace. He wasn't walked independently until eighteen months and still he was not passionate about running or wandering around for long by himself. At the same age, his sister had been an avid climber, making Adelaide to scream in panic when the toddler made it to the top of the nursery wall clock. Thomas instead preferred to attach himself to his sister as an appendix and walk that way. He was not quite the talker either; his public speech consisted in a few well defined words that could be counted with two pair of hands. He also repeated a bunch of monosyllables, and for that his mother was sure the boy had a troubled mind. He sometimes sat quiet for hours in the corner of the nursery watching to the door, Adelaide had noticed. But what no one had noticed was that the boy was as quiet as observant, his developing brain got caught in small details, like the line of termites that made its way through the corner of the doorframe. The tiny insects got blended into the wood tones, almost imperceptible unless one is looking for them intendedly. He pronounced the sounds that made each word independently, and his fully articulated words were mostly reserved for his sister. The world around the boy held for him things yet to be discovered, things that only he could see, and his eager bright eyes picture everything as a puzzle put together, and he could see how and where the pieces wedged in.

For the last month he had noticed the man than had come to the nursery regularly. He was stiffed like the floors in the night, when the wood is about to crack. Thomas had waked up listening to the sounds the house makes at night, they scared him but he wanted to know, so he had listened. His sister had explained than the old houses creaked, but the why was beyond her knowledge. He had put his ear on the floor, keeping his gaze also over the floor. Then he had waited and waited for long, until the creak sound was reproduced close to where he was. He had seen the particles of dust agitated, floating in the air, where the moon illuminated the room and the floor had made the sound. He had placed his hands on the same place, several times during the day. It never cracked during the day, only at night, when the floor was cold and hard – harder, he decided it felt harder. The man, Thomas was sure he looked like if his body was about to crack. He had watched the man from a corner of the room. He spoke to Lucille in a severe tone, and he had hit her sister with a thin cane, like her mother did, but not in her bottom but in her hands. Lucille had not cried. He had. He had cried when mother had stroke the cane against his bottom, not long ago, when the man wasn't there. He had been taken to mother's room and he had peed on himself. She had placed him on the bed, and combed his hair with her hands in a soothing way. It felt nice, she told nice things too. 'My sweet baby boy' she had told him. He had heard these words from Nana and Lucille; he knew they meant good, and the calming voice tone... He had felt asleep and he had dream with a warm bath, on the tube, the nice feeling of water surrounding him as in a good embrace. He had been awoken to find his mother in rage, yelling at him, and she had grabbed the cane. He didn't like the cane, so he didn't like the man with the cane. Father never carried a cane.

In the nursery's study area Lucille sat as straight as a pole while Mr. Sutton, the new tutor, made her pronounce and repeat the letters that where carved in a table. The alphabet, she copied the letters in a board with chalk, and the powder released in the friction made her nose sneezy. She had been very interested in learn the words at first, so she would be able to read the stories in the books for Thomas. But it resulted to be not fun at all. After two years of being left on her own, except for listening to her mother readings and memorizing the prayers, she has found this new arrangement uncomfortable. The previous governesses were but a fade memory now, she can only remember that she was not to be sitting straight for hours, she remembered there had been rhymes and plays to help her to learn and remember the names of things, like the animals on the books or the months on the year. If not of tender ways, her mother's discipline had helped her to bear the lessons without getting tired so fast. Still, her first attempts to reproduce the letters with the ink were a complete failure and mess. The tutor had put the ink and paper away until she developed more proficiency, the chalk will do it for beginners. So she was engaged in identifying, pronouncing and copying the letters, and also some lessons about etiquette.

Etiquette was something a lady must exhibit and she hasn't. Her mother had recalled the conversation topics Lucille had inspired during last year birthday party. Her mother had made sure that opinions like: "Such an adorable girl, but a little wild" or "The girl is like a piece of charcoal, waiting to be turned into a diamond", reached her father's ears. Finally, he had agreed to hire a tutor when she reached six years old. Men can be so foolish and proud, Agnes had thought, the fact that the foreman's boy had entertained the night with a poem recitation, had been the push her husband needed to make a decision. The boy was five and can read good enough, and everyone had agreed that it was an accomplishment for such a young boy. Even Irving had advised in favor, considering that another person to interact with Lucille with his undivided attention would benefit her greatly. Lucille didn't know she will be tutored until the man had arrived to Allerdale Hall and they were formally introduced. Mr. Sutton was not an old man, but neither was young, tall but not as father, meaty, a short brown beard and a stick in his hand. Lucille hated sticks so much, her mother had used the cane on her on several occasions, her bottom had regretted dearly.

"Are you intending to use that on my daughter, because I totally forbid it" Mr. Sharpe had told the new tutor, when they had meet in his studio.

The tutor had arrived Allerdale Hall two weeks before Arthur Sharpe. In that brief time he already had his way with Lucille. Her mother had also her way to ensure that the girl won't speak inappropriately in front of her father. It was not really necessary; the girl never had run to complain in her father's arms, not for being ignored, not for being punished, never, not once. Still, she left her a reminder, just in case.

"Of course not, Mister Sharpe, it's just to signal on the charts. But I have to say that its presence does help to keep discipline, a little intimidation may motivate the reckless ones to behave" Mr. Sutton had stated, making it to sound casual.

"I assure you my daughter is not one of those cases" Mr. Sharpe pointed.

"I'm sure of it, and please don't mistake me Sir, I don't support that barbaric method of correction. And if you don't use it either, then there is nothing for the child to be afraid of" Mr. Sutton responded.

But Mr. Sutton could tell that Lucille knew what the stick was for; even before Mrs. Sharpe had told him she used the cane to install obedience. He had seen the fierce eyes the girl had laid on the stick, fear and rebellion, a dangerous mix. It doesn't take much to know a child's character, just being observant. The more stubborn boys looked in defiance, while the educated ones looked down, their heads trying to avert the view from the wooden stick. No matter how they pretended to feign indifference or ignorance, fear could be seen in their eyes in the same way a trapped fox will look at the hounds. In his very personal opinion, obedience was unnatural in children, like wild horses they must be broken in order to be tamed.

Good behaving children, Mr. Sutton was convinced, were as scarce as proper accommodations in Allerdale Hall. He disliked the place and the lack of good Brandy to offer the guests. But the pay was not bad, not what he usually will accept but life was being unfair with him lately. After the incident that ended in his shameful dismissal from one of the best boarding houses for boys in London, it had become very difficult for him to find a new placement as a permanent teacher, he had been denied in several schools, and not only in London. Nowadays the people make a scandal for everything, no matter how it will damage other's public image. It was an exaggeration, the gazette had printed a full page on the subject, high lightening that one person of the school staff had been involved in peculiar traits with the older students, and the person in question had been removed from his position silently. They said the school had kept it all under a veil of secrecy, to avoid damages in their reputation, or possibly to protect the depraved teacher, 'only god will know' the article had stated.

No one had been hurt or died, if much the girl had been manhandled. The boys were old enough to understand how to please and be pleased by the opposite sex, so it had been educational on the best of purposes. It was his fault as he had sent the wrong ones to fetch the whore. They were supposed to bring a woman, an experienced woman, not an amateur just enrolled in the occupation. It was not her first time, but it was evident she had never handled so much in one work night, too many. He had to admit that some of them had been a little rough, and the girl was scared. She had ended in a state of distress, and ran away from the place sobbing and naked. And then his good luck ended when a police officer turned out to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, not wrong for him though, nor for the young prostitute. The boys with wealthier families had paid for their heirs to continue in the school, their names erased from the incident report. Other weren't as lucky, of course culprits needed to be signaled and exemplary punishment had to be imparted, for the good name of the school and the peace of mind of rest of the parents who voiced their concerns about the immoralities their boys may be exposed to.

Mr. Sutton had been forced to move from the city to offer his services away from London. His path led him to usually remote destinations, castles and manors in the middle of nowhere. The idea of being secluded, teaching insufferable pampered boys was not of his affection. So far this was the worst place he had ended. The state of the house was shameful, chilly, dark, and spiced with a smell of old humid wood and mold. At least Mrs. Sharpe made for a good conversation and she shared his taste for chess. She also played the piano like an angel. The daughter on the contrary was an untamed wilding, not for long. He had seen it so many times, if not properly educated from an early age the girls could become as daredevil troublemakers as any boy. He had taught girls, but not girls only. The last job he had taken involved eleven rascals. He had wondered how the mother had arranged to procreate so many, but the offspring had come from two marriages or that he was told. By looking at the lot you could guess the man had convinced or imposed his wives to admit at least a couple of bastards to be raised altogether with his natural sons. The third wife was only interested in the old man money and title, not on any of the demons she took as step mother. She was intelligent enough to not breed more of that blood. There were only two girls, the smaller one only three years, adorable as she was not his responsibility. The older girl may as well command Genghis Khan's army. Seventeen and she organized and managed the bunch of boys like her personal troops, plotting and acting against nannies, governesses, step mothers or any attempt to rule that was imposed over them, he included. He couldn't deny he had learned a few tricks from that pack. When he got notice about the opportunity at Allerdale estate he did not miss it. Only one girl and six years old, even if it was the devil herself one child alone was always easier to bend into submission. He had wrote right back to the mother for the arrangement, this will do as a vacation, he thought. The mother's main concern was that the girl was graceless, besides uneducated, she wanted to prepare her for a boarding school to raise her in the proper manners. Girls were supposed to be elegant, delicate, quiet, prude and submissive to her husbands, that in order to find her a suitor for marriage. He agreed on it, girls should learn that and no more, a woman with so much intelligence, confidence and determination can be a problem and was not well seen in the conservative English society. Of course there were those who think against. But thankfully he was not, nor was it Mrs. Agnes Sharpe. He had investigated on his own, so he knew the poor conditions of the woman marriage. A shame the woman had been burdened to tend his widowed father, which was customary but uncommon. If the father never married again the older daughter took her mother's place regarding the management the house, raising the little ones and taking care of the father health, especially if this was of advanced age. A shame he thought, women are made for procreation and the strength of youth should not be wasted unused, that was a real shame.

The stick fell in a single motion, stroking hard against Lucille's knuckles. Again the girl had lightened her grip, allowing her traces to be tremulous. When her father was not at home, as accustomed, her mother guided herself with a different set of rules. In those, Mister Sutton had been given free range to correct the girl in the best way he deemed appropriate to get the child agreement and cooperation. Agnes Sharpe had chosen him as a tutor; she has contacted him and convinced her husband he was the right one. Mr. Sharpe may have been the one to sign the checking orders for his payments, but his wife had full command regarding the child education. And she was to be sure her family's money was well expended.

The lesson had extended since after lunch, and so far she was tired enough barely maintaining her attention. Her fingers hurt, and a red line was displayed across all of them.

"You are not ever trying girl, your mother will be very displeased if you don't put effort on your best interest" Mr. Sutton had said, and it had sounded like a hypocrite concern.

Two months only and the old man already knew how to manipulate her mother, and how to push Lucille herself, in the verge of despair. Even though, the stick was nothing in the man's hand compared to what it may do if it were hers mother's hand the one to hold it. With the age Lucille gained independence and confidence, slowly and unnoticeable she had been losing more and more the will to please her mother. That, she had proved already, was an impossible task. It felt like glory when one of the maids opened the door to invite Mr. Sutton to take the afternoon tea, on Mrs. Sharpe's behalf. The man at last ended the lesson for the day. She pretended to put effort in her letters until the door was closed after the tutor. Lucille plopped in the chair like if her body was a dead weight, falling then to the floor in an attempt to catch Thomas attention. The boy can be seen sitting there in the corner of the room at the other side of the nursery. Nothing. She straight up and went to the room. Adelaide was 'resting the eyes', as she used to said when she fell asleep during day hours. The old woman used to nap during Lucille's lessons while watching at Thomas. It was like taking a cookie from a child, because the child in question, contrary to his sister, was able to spend hours in the same spot. Lucille took Thomas by his hips lifting him into upright position. He stood straight, grasping her dress tight with both his hands and moved, then walked as she did.

"Come on Thomas", she battled gently to make the boy let go off his grasp.

She retrieved a red ball, the one their father had gave Thomas a few days before their last birthday. Thomas liked the bright red color and the soft texture. When he saw the ball he got quiet, following it with his gaze.

"Try to catch it Thomas!" The girl threw the ball softly, but the boy didn't lift his arms and the ball went rolling behind the toy's chest. Thomas moved to fetch the ball, something between walking and running. In his hurry the boy fell on his knees, landing over the edge of one of the wooden blocks and hurting his knee.

A cut in the shape of a horizontal line was stamped on Thomas knee, it started to bleed. Lucille had carried the boy into the bathtub to avoid making a mess. In a couple of minutes she had followed him, so they were both sat in the tub, while she tried to clean the wound with a towel and the liquid Adelaide always used on her. She knew it itched a lot, so she tried to be gentle while rubbing on the boy's leg. He didn't cry loudly, but whimpered with big tears staining his bright eyes. She wanted to cry too, her heart ached to see the cut that marred the perfect skin of her brother's pale body. In her childish thoughts she felt bad, she was supposed to take care of him and he was hurt right in front of her nose. When Adelaide found them, waken up by the sobbing, she found both children in the tub. Lucille holding Thomas as a mother holds a child in her lap, pressing kisses on Thomas knee. The knee was covered with a handkerchief, which most probably, Lucille had tied around it like a bandage. The boy hugged his sister with his face pressed against her chest. It took some time to separate them, as he grabbed her as hard as he could with his thin body.

That night he woke up in the darkness and rolled over the bed covers, poking his sister to wake her up, "il, ill" he said in an attempt to articulate a new word. She woke up to see Thomas crying again silently, as he used to.

"Thomas what happen? Does it still hurt you?" She went to check on his knee but he didn't allow it in his distress.

She tried to calm him in vain; apparently he was scared of something. She wondered if he wasn't too young to have nightmares. The soothing words where of no help to comfort the boy, until finally she did the craziest thing she could think about, in order to show Thomas there was nothing to be scared of. In a display of self-confidence she stood with regal stance on the bed and yelled making her voice as intimidating and authoritative as their mother's.

"Go away whatever you are, I command you to stop bothering my dearest brother for he is the Master of Allerdale Hall and everyone under this roof must obey him. So be gone, and stop interrupting his rest. Then she threw the cushions and pillows in every direction, as if she were indeed attacking some targets. She could not avoid to laugh, and it was contagious, so she jumped on the bed laughing some more.

"Jump with me Thomas!" she said holding the little boy hands. They jumped and laughed, and plopped on the bed when they got exhausted.

"It's fine Thomas. I'll always care for you" she said, and she kissed the boy bandaged knee, and she kissed his soft dark hair.

Under the bed covers they went as she had done many times when he was a small baby, she took her clothes under the covers and undressed the boy from his bed clothes too. They hugged as always, as if each other were the only thing they had. The boy kissed Lucille hands where the reddish marks were, his tiny hands taking hold of her cheeks, "ille", he said "luzz...ille", and it was the sweetest word on her ears.

In the morning, Adelaide was puzzled in a good way; Thomas didn't stop to repeat his new word again and again, the rattle dangling in his hand as he moved. Adelaide was surprised of the boy behavior, for once the boy was not the shy and quiet creature he was always been. On the contrary he ran to Adelaide and pulled her hand, proudly showing off that he can pronounce his sister's name. The tutor had later asked Adelaide to move the boy into a different room so he could advance with Lucille's lessons.

That day he was removed from the nursery for Lucille classes. He ended in the kitchen, watching Adelaide making dough and shaping it into buns, while the kitchen maid was taking the feathers off a duck. Both women were delighted with the boy's talk.

"How come this lad is saying his first word?" the maid asked in amazement.

It was the first time for Thomas to spend so much time in the kitchen as a toddler, so he was attentive to the novelty of his surroundings.

"My boys all spoke by the year if not before" the woman said without intention to brag.

"This child had a difficult beginning, it is a miracle he is here with us healthy and speaking" Adelaide responded in Thomas defense.

"So the little Mistress name, is that what he says?"

"No less I expected, those two are toast and butter, born to be together", and this Adelaide said with satisfaction.

The boy had been a blessing for the poor girl. It was not healthy for a child to be alone in that manor, confined for the most of time. The Mistress robbed her daughter's innocence with each word of indifference or rejection, never a compliment nor a hug. If someone could save the girl from growing up to be sour and unhappy as her mother, it was Thomas, for sure the little Mistress loved her brother. Adelaide didn't blame the Sharpes entirely; she knew every soul in Allerdale carried its own heavy cross.

In no time Thomas was walking, holding the border of the table. He fetched a wooden spoon trying to make sounds with it. He was allowed to go and do as pleased, and even was served a bottle of milk with honey. The maid had said it will stir the child up.

"He must be running and jumping outside and messing up. This one is too quiet, and that's not natural"

Adelaide scolded her to not speak such words in front of the little Master. The woman's retort was cancelled with the sudden entrance of the Mistress, who found herself unpleased to find Thomas there.

"What is he doing here?" the Mistress asked inquisitively.

"Mister Sutton mistress, he needed it to be quiet for Miss Lucille lesson"

"And?" the Mistress now demanded, not seeing what that was related with the boy being out of the nursery without her word.

"And Master Thomas was speaking nonstop"

"Speaking, you say?" Sounding not convinced.

"And what he said?"

"The little Mistress name"

"Come, Thomas" she said grasping the child hand.

"I'll take care of him Adelaide, until Mr. Sutton is finished" with that mother and son left the kitchen.

Thomas struggled to keep his mother's pace. He was walked to the main hall and was left there in the couch. The boy was startled as he usually was in presence of his mother. The woman was intimidating in an uncomfortable way. He knew Nana and Adelaide, they looked alike, both with similar clothes and meaty bones, and they were loud and gentle. He saw them every day, the watched him, bath him, feed him and dress him. Their touch was not rude. The doctor, he saw him once in a while, and like the tall man with dark hair he smiled frequently, and he usually ruffled his hair, he smelled funny like the big black leather case he always carried with him. But the tall woman, she always held him hard, sometimes she was tender and warm, and sometimes she was indifferent. Sometimes he hid his cheeks on her chest, her hand caressing the soft curly hair. In those times he could also remember the tall man, he had carried him more than the woman, his kisses were scratchy because the hair on his face, and he sometimes smelled really strong, like the itchy liquid Lucille had put on his knee. He knew his names too. Father and mother, Lucille had told him. "Be good to mother and father Thomas. Thomas, father will be home tonight, isn't it great. We better hide it so mother won't find, right Thomas".

"Repeat Thomas...MOTHER... ", she had been telling that for a while now.

"Come on boy, prove me you are not stupid" The mother spoke, her patience dissipating.

"Speak up boy!"

Nothing.

He was distracted with the rattle on his mouth.

"Give me that, you can have it back when you speak up". She took the rattle from Thomas' hand, and the boy tried to fight against.

"No, you cannot have it back until you let me hear the words"

The boy's arms were extended in plead, trying to get back the rattle from his mother raised arm.

"No Thomas, if you ask for it I will give it to you"

The tantrum only grew on him.

"If that is how you are going to act, then you are not having it back. That is what you learn from the girl for sure. Come on call your sister, go ahead", the whimper continued with drowned cries.

"Oh, stop that sobbing!" She said raising her voice. But the whimpering just increased, the tears flowing more and more.

For about one hour the woman had tried to get word from the boy without success. She repeated the words, bribed him with a sweet, pinched on his upper arm, showed him the rattle, and teased him with the cane. Finally she gave up. He saw how his rattle was put in a drawer, locked with a key. And then he had been walked again while his mother pulled at his arm. He struggled on the stairs until the woman lost her patient and lifted him, his whole body hanging by the arm. This produced a yell from the boy.

"No Thomas, stop it this instant!" The mother reprimanded.

'No', he had heard that word frequently; she used it with Lucille a lot.

"No you cannot go outside… – But, mother... – No"

"No, you are not having supper tonight, until you tell me the truth. – I told you a boy give it to me, please mother"

"What will be next with you if I allow you such ways? No, Thomas will stay in the nursery"

"No, your father is not here to consent your childish behavior"

"No, and that is final"

"No"

He wanted her to stop, so he used the word "No, no, no".

It worked, his mother stopped, just to pull him again and into a room, it was one of the guest rooms but it had no furniture. She had used it for the girl punishments, to put her on time out when she had got her temperament. She had no patience at all for baby tantrums. There she dropped Thomas in the middle of the room and looked the door. Maybe, she thought, it was not a bad idea to send the girl to a boarding school, her influence on the boy was starting to show already. And she won't have any of that. One pampered reckless child was enough. She will mold this one as best as she could. Probably, Arthur will see reason when he returns.

The boy curled on the floor, looking to the empty place. He didn't dare to move. A faint ray of light leaked through the heavy curtains, but it was getting darker outside, and in no time he was left to darkness. When Adelaide took supper to the nursery she noticed the absence of the little one. She went to Mrs. Sharpe to take the boy from her but he wasn't with her. The mistress walked to the first guest rooms and opened the door. There was the boy on the floor shaking, he had peed himself and the diaper had leaked soaking him up. Adelaide held him and took him to the nursery, none a word spoken. She knew her mistress state of mind was easily to shake, and contrary to what the doctor had said, it had got worse. The children were frequently the target of her mood changes, but this was the first time she acted upon punishing the boy like this. Since he was born, he had been treated by all as if he were a glass figure about to break. Well, all except Lucille, she handled the boy with care but without overly delicacy. Now that the boy was getting healthier and stronger, he was not escaping his mother wrath.

Lucille cried when Adelaide washed a trembling Thomas. He didn't eat, no matter how his sister and Adelaide tried to convince him.

"This is no good Adelaide said, no good"

At last the children were left to sleep. Lucille held her brother tight, cradled him on her arms.

"I'm here dear Thomas, I'm here. What she did to you?"

"Mooother" he said, "mother", giving up the name of his torturer.

"I know. She can be like that. I'm sorry" She cried in her impotency, if it wasn't for the tutor this would not have happened.

"I tell you what, I'll practice and you can too, so Mr. Sutton will allow you to stay here, but you have to be quiet"

A chess board was lifted to the bed and there she set up the writing tools.

"This is a plume. Can you say it Thomas?"

"Plum" the boy repeated.

"And this is paper, paaapeerrr"

"Paaaipe"

"Great job Thomas. Now the alphabet, these are the letters we use to made the words"

"wods"

"Uh hum. This is the A, and this is the B" Thomas started repeating the letters and words while Lucille tried to write them in a paper, the ink staining on her fingers.

Lucille was a patient and loving teacher, and Thomas' vocabulary increased considerably fast because of their night lessons. Lucille's hand writing became much better and for that the tutor was pleased, but she usually fell asleep in the noon readings, and that got her frequent corrections, for her inattentiveness. But when their father had come back after Christmas, their effort was rewarded. She made sure to show him her accomplishments, and he was pleased with her advances. She had enjoyed her mother puzzled face when Thomas had said 'father' and her father praised him effusively. Thomas had learned to tell 'mother' first, but the woman would never knew it, and that filled Lucille with a wicked pleasure.

/\/\/\/\/\

Another month passed and another, and the rain came to Allerdale Hall making the manor more humid and depressive. They spend most of the time in the nursery, weeks without peeping out. Only Lucille was dragged to the main hall five days a week to practice the piano. She wanted to be able to play for Thomas. Her mother won't allow it. It was in the middle of a lesson when she noticed Thomas rattle, it make a sound when her mother opened the piano drawer to pick up a book.

That started a plan of action that would take place on the concealment of the night. She practiced her reading to keep herself awake, but that also kept Thomas awake. While he pronounced the words from the pictures on the book, she prepared to sneak out, changing her bedclothes for the ones she had used the year before, those fitted tight and shorter, much better to avoid being caught on the wall splinters. No candles, she thought, the task required to be done swiftly.

"You stay here Thomas. I'll be back"

"No". The boy responded.

"You must Thomas, if we are both caught it will be a mess."

"No, I go, Luzille"

"But Thomas!" His pleading eyes always softened her. And as usually she pleased the boy.

"Ok, but you must stay very quiet."

"Uh humm"

"Do what I said, and only what I said, and do not cry, I'll hold your hand"

"No cry" Thomas repeated. By the time they were in the passageway she was thinking it had not been a good idea to bring Thomas along.

She went first under the door and then helped Thomas. Lucille put her finger on her mouth to signal Thomas to be silent. They peeped through the holes in the raggedy drape.

"Mother", he said when realizing that it was mother's room, and even more, mother was lying on the bed.

"Shh Thomas, don't you say a word!" She said in a whisper.

"Wait here" she said going behind the drape.

She slipped through the floor toward the nightstand with the drawer. She knew her mother put the keys there every night. She can see the shape of her mother under the sheets, and she was... not asleep. Below the bed was her best chance. She made it just in time, before her mother rolled to a side, her face in the direction of the drape. She was able to open the drawer and grab the key. Lucky for her, the key of the hidden drawer on the piano was tied alone with a ribbon, not attached to the key ring that held a heavy bunch of tangling keys. Once the first part was done, she realized her escape route was ruined. She will have to wait who knows how long for her mother to roll to the opposite side or to be profoundly asleep. Worse, who know how Thomas will react if that long was long enough. She could see her mother reflected in the mirror of the dressing table. She was lying on the bed but she moved underneath the sheets, her head thrown back, sinking into the bed, and the sounds she made, her breathing strained. She can felt the vibration on the bed over her head, increasing its pace. Lucille could also see a tiny hand pocking by the holes in the drape, Thomas. Her mother's body moved faster until the woman let out a scream, the creaking on the bed stopped and her mother closed her eyes, her chest moving up and down to get air, one breast exposed. Lucille took her chance, rolling from behind the bed to the drape in the second her mother close her eyes, she was able to catch the little boy that was about to crawl under the fabric. With the same impetus she pulled Thomas and herself back into the passage. In the rush the key had slip away from the girl's nightgown pocket, and the treasure was left there, halfway between the bed and the wall. Lucille noticed it, but her mother too.

She put the loose plank back and carried Thomas, running as fast as she could, but they will never make it on time. While her mother put on the robe and seized the issue, Lucille had made it to the service tray, she helped Thomas climb in, and she hurt her hands pulling the rope so fast. Mrs. Sharpe was sure she was left the key on the table. She picked it up and walked to the wall. Could it be? She thought. The idea of one of the maids sneaking on her was disgusting. She lifted the drapes to find the door but when she tried it was locked. She has the key of course and once it was open she followed the passage to the room it connected, it was locked too. Maybe she was just imagining things. Her mind changed after she went back in her path, when she closed the room's secret door the loose plank fell with a sounding plop. It left a small space, the size perfect for... a child.

Agnes Sharpe walked, no, ran to the third floor, the nursery the door was also locked. When she entered the room she found Lucille sounds asleep. The boy was in the crib. She checked over the girl and left the room. There was no way the girl had left the nursery and get into her bedroom passage, going through two locked doors. Of course, she was exaggerating in her worries.

When the door had closed, Lucille counted to twenty, just in case her mother was still listening in the other side of the door. Finally, she released the breath she was holding. She ran to the door of the service tray room. The first time she had opened that door, she was two and a half and her mother had decided she was old enough to sleep alone in the nursery. Until then Adelaide had sleep in the room next to hers in the nursery. She was not scared but she had missed Adelaide a lot. Lucille had climbed out of the bed and wandered to the main door but she couldn't twist the doorknob, it was locked. The other door was Adelaide's room, and there was a fourth door in the small corner after the nursemaid room. She had never noticed it nor seen what was in the other side. When she tried the doorknob it budget and she found herself in a small space occupied by a spiral staircase, a cabinet and a table, a basket below the table with fabric lining. The furniture was next to a door that didn't touch the floor or it was a window? The door opened to the sides revealing a wooden box, as big as the basket on the floor. She turned the basket up down to use it as a step tool. When she climbed in the wooden tray she noticed she had plenty space, but the box fell with her weight. It went fast in the dark space between the walls and she was too scared to move. It had stopped in the second floor where her parents' bedroom was. She didn't step out nor speak, paralyzed in terror. After a while, she had open the service door and stepped out, trying to walk back through the stairs. Her mother had found her and that earned her a punishment. Adelaide confessed to forget locking the door, just to appease the reprimand to the child. It didn't work as intended but Lucille appreciated it nonetheless. Adelaide was convinced of it; otherwise the girl was not able to get out of the room. It wasn't until Lucille had been three that she discovered how the 'secret box', as she called it, worked. That had inaugurated the season of her night expeditions through Allerdale Hall.

She went off the bed and ran to the service room. Once there, she pulled the rope to get the box on the floor level, she had been afraid that Thomas would cry, but she discovered he was fall asleep on the container box. She couldn't have carried him on time and less made him fake to be asleep. It was a luck her mother had not watched close to the crib or else she had noticed the doll placed under the blankets as a deception. If it had been Nana or Adelaide they would have noticed immediately, they both knew that no matter how many times they were set to sleep apart, the children always were to be found together in the morning. Lucille regretted that all the risk had been in vain. Despite everything, it had been good to have a partner in crime and adventure. Thomas was growing and she was enjoying every stage on the boy development. Finally she settled on the bed with her brother falling asleep too. She didn't hear the click of the door locking, concealing their secret escape path. She never had paid attention to the fact that Adelaide had locked it once, and like that it was every time the old maid had tried the doorknob from time to time.