The Maid of Murder Castle by Olivia Penny

Author:Olivia Penny [Penny, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Swan Digital
Published: 2025-07-09T00:00:00+00:00

16

Time did not pass in the hotel as it did in the city beyond its walls. In the days that followed Eliza’s letter, each hour thickened and slowed, as though the air itself had grown heavy with anticipation. She waited.

Each morning she woke expecting the sound of boots on the marble floor downstairs, expecting stern voices, a sharp knock at the door, the question: Did you write this? But no one came.

No officer. No detective. No official with a notepad or a badge.

Instead, life within the hotel unspooled as it always had, gently, methodically, with a kind of eerie ritual. The same hollow greetings. The same echoing silence between rooms. The same soft footfalls on the third-floor hallway where Room 303 sat, now sealed like a crypt.

Her fear did not fade as the days passed. It took root. Eliza began to move differently. She made herself smaller, quieter. Her footsteps slowed. Her glances were more cautious. She began to measure every word, every look, every breath. She cleaned with her head down. She avoided the upper floors. She answered questions in nods and short replies.

Every time Holmes passed her in the hallway, she held her breath. Each time Mrs. Kearney appeared without sound at her shoulder, she flinched. The hotel felt more alive now than it ever had. Alert and listening.

And she avoided George. He noticed. Of course he did. She would find him watching her sometimes across the staff table, his brow furrowed with confusion. He tried to corner her gently in corridors, never pushy, always kind. But she slipped past him with murmured apologies.

One evening, as she fetched candles from the basement, he caught up with her.

“Eliza,” he said softly. “You’re not alright.”

She kept her back to him, eyes fixed on the crate of taper candles, her hands trembling as she counted them.

“I’m tired, that’s all.”

“No, it’s more than that. You won’t even look at me anymore.”

Her throat tightened.

“I don’t mean to be forward,” he said, his voice careful. “But I care about you. And I know when someone’s carrying something too heavy.”

She turned then, slowly, and for the first time let him see the fear in her eyes.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered.

“Then help me. Help me understand.”

She couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. The truth sat in her chest like a stone. If she told him, she might endanger him. But if she kept silent, she might drown alone.

“I can’t,” she said. “Not now.”

George stepped back, wounded, but didn’t press her. “Alright,” he said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

And then he left her there, surrounded by candle wax and cold air and fresh guilt to add to her burden. Each day after dragged. The guests came and went. Holmes drifted like a shadow, always composed, always watching. Minnie grew quieter. Mrs. Kearney grew sharper.

No one spoke of the room. No one spoke of the girl. And the note – Eliza’s desperate tether to the world outside – seemed to have vanished into smoke.

At night, she lay awake listening to the building breathe.

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