The room was warm, too warm to be comfortable. The smell of stale sweat lingered in the air like a rotting carcass. And no breeze swept through the windows to offer us any relief. Not a single leaf brushed against another on any of the foliage. Heedless of everyone’s discomfort, Mrs. van Kirk had requested that the servants leave the blinds and curtains open in the drawing room, and we were all suffering for it.
I resisted summoning Williams to ask for someone—anyone, really—to block out some of the light. But I knew that Mrs. van Kirk would protest and complain of all her ailments that the heat could potentially cure. My only source of comfort was that no one looked satisfied with the state of the room except for her and possibly Victor.
Since I’d overheard Mr. van Kirk and Victor’s arg
