The Secret Staircase (A Wendover House Mystery Book 1) by Jackson Melanie

Author:Jackson, Melanie [Jackson, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brian Jackson
Published: 2011-10-10T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

I woke with the sun, having spent the rest of the night in troubling dreams about sinking ships and faceless smugglers hauling barrels of rum from ship to ship while storms raged. I had forgotten to draw my drapes and the bedroom was dazzling with morning light.

Though feeling very purposeful and resolved on some research, or at the very least finding some photos or paintings of my mysterious ancestors, I made myself fix some eggs and sip some tinned orange juice for breakfast.

A careful tour of the living areas discovered no portraits in any room. I hadn’t seen any in the basement either, so that left the attic as a possible repository of art.

The air was stale at the top of the house and I stepped carefully so as to not stir up the dust on the attic floor as I went hunting for photographs or paintings of the family I had never known. Though Hollywood would have us believe that there are as many monsters in attics as in basements, I found the smell of dust to be much less upsetting than damp earth and felt not the slightest stirring of unease.

My first family find was not a photo album, but rather a painting, a seascape which had been leaned against the wall just inside the door. It was realistic but rather dark, perhaps simply aged or maybe grimed with soot from hanging over a smoky fireplace. I could make out that I was looking at Little Goose, Great Goose, and Goose Haven, though there was no lighthouse and the only building was on Little Goose. There was also a ship sinking in the stormy sea, torn open on Goose Haven’s rocky shore. A lone figure was on the deck. Carrying the canvas close to the tiny window I could make out the ship’s name. It was the Terminer. Abercrombie’s ship.

If anything should have given me the shivers it was that painting, but I felt not a tremor. Not happy subject matter, of course. I could understand why it had been relegated to the attic. Had Kelvin done it when he thought he was becoming a “Jonah”? It wasn’t pretty, but still, it was my first look at something and someone connected to me, however distantly, and I decided to bring it downstairs and hang it again. Later I would ask Harris about getting it cleaned.

I turned next to the trunks and crates that lined the wall, making the room feel smaller than it should. The first chest opened with a blast of camphor. It held musty textile treasures, each wrapped in aging fabric. There was a fur caplet that must once have been white but was now very yellow and balding. I rather liked the black Astrakhan coat, but it was too large and a bit tatty for wearing in public. And anyway, it would be hard to wear it and not think of the newborn sheep that had died to make it.

Though careful while unwrapping the yellowed muslin, there was still a bit of an explosion as I opened the last article in the trunk.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.