Part Fifteen – The Butler's Counsel
"Young master," Heller's voice intruded again, firmer this time, like a hand tugging him back from the dark spiral of thoughts. The old butler had always known when Jonathan's mind was straying where it should not.
"I will have Master Humphrey take your measurements tomorrow. A proper coat, perhaps a new suit."
Jonathan, halfway down the staircase, halted. The air smelled faintly of dust and iron. "If that is for the Lulough wedding, I must disappoint you. I will not be attending."
His voice echoed through the silent hall, stripped bare of servants since he had dismissed them all. It sounded hollow, almost foreign.
Heller, hands folded behind his back, did not blink. "She will look for you if you do not come."
Jonathan's lips tightened. He didn't need to ask who.
Valia Lulough.
Her image came unbidden: dark curls, laughter bright as sunlight cutting through the gloom of lecture halls, a ribbon in her hair the color of spring leaves. His first friend in college, and his only real one.
who never stopped reaching out, even now, through letters unanswered and inquiries ignored.
And now she was to be wed. To stay away would wound her. To go would wound him.
Jonathan exhaled, long and reluctant. "Have Master Humphrey prepare something suitable."
"Very good, young master," Heller said, the faintest relief hidden in his tone.
Jonathan turned, climbing the stairs again. The old wood groaned under his weight, the mansion sighing as if in protest. At the landing he slowed—eyes drawn, unwilling, to the door just below his floor.
Room 32.
It sat in darkness, heavy and silent, as if the air around it thickened. Every night, every morning, he passed it, and every time it seemed to breathe against him, gnawing at his resolve.
He swallowed, tore his gaze away, and ascended the last flight to his chamber. But the dread lingered, pressing against his back like unseen eyes watching him retreat.