Everquiet

Scene Six: Where Time Stands Still

I must have drifted off because when my focus finally returned, I realized I was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

I blinked a few times before shaking my head and pushing myself to my feet. A quiet stretch loosened the stiffness from my shoulders as I crossed the room to retrieve my suitcase. Setting it on the bed, I unlatched it and began unpacking the few belongings I had brought with me.

The rest of my things were supposed to arrive later in the week, assuming they could even find this place.

One by one, I hung my dresses inside the towering wardrobe and arranged my books, toiletries, and framed photograph of my grandfather around the room. They were small touches, but enough to make the unfamiliar space feel a little less intimidating.

When everything was in its place, I wandered toward the windows.

The heavy velvet curtains slid easily beneath my fingers as I pulled them apart.

Beyond the glass, the Ravenscroft estate stretched endlessly into the fading evening light. Rolling gardens melted into dense forests that disappeared beyond the horizon. There wasn't another house in sight. No neighboring estates. No roads. Nothing but ancient trees swaying gently beneath a darkening sky.

It was breathtaking.

And isolating.

I frowned.

How far away was the nearest town? Earlier, I had clearly heard church bells drifting through the air, yet from here there wasn't the slightest hint of civilization.

Curious, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

No signal.

Of course.

I let out a quiet sigh, slipping it back into my pocket. Considering the manor seemed frozen somewhere between the nineteenth century and the present day, I probably should have expected that.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

Before I could answer, it opened.

An older woman stepped inside carrying herself with quiet grace. Silver hair was pinned neatly into a low bun, and she wore a pristine black dress beneath a crisp white apron that looked more fitting for a period drama than modern life.

She smiled warmly.

"Good evening, Miss Hawthorne. My name is Margaret."

I offered a small smile in return. "Hello."

She gave a polite curtsy that caught me completely off guard.

"I have been assigned as your personal maid during your stay."

I stared at her.

"My... personal maid?"

"Yes, miss."

I couldn't stop the bewildered laugh that escaped me.

"I'm sorry, but... are we absolutely certain this is still the twenty-first century?"

A flicker of amusement softened her otherwise composed expression.

"I assure you it is."

"I wasn't entirely convinced."

She chuckled quietly before smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her apron.

"The Ravenscroft family has always preferred to preserve certain traditions."

"Apparently."

I glanced around the room.

"So... are there more maids?"

"The household is fully staffed."

I shook my head, still trying to process it.

"This place keeps getting stranger."

Margaret's smile remained perfectly pleasant.

"It often has that effect on first-time visitors."

There was something in the way she said it that made me pause.

I studied her for a moment before asking, "Have you worked here long?"

"My entire adult life."

"Then maybe you can answer something."

"If I am able."

"What exactly is this place?"

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the windows.

"It is home."

"That's... not exactly what I meant."

"I know."

I folded my arms.

"The manor feels... different."

"It has stood for many generations."

"How many?"

"Longer than most people remember."

Not exactly helpful.

"And Sebastian?"

Her expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"The master is a good man."

"That's all?"

"He carries many responsibilities."

She simply smiled.

It wasn't that she was rude. Quite the opposite.

She was perfectly polite.

She just had an incredible talent for answering questions without actually answering them.

Before I could think of another way to phrase my curiosity, Margaret clapped her hands together gently.

"Now then. We mustn't keep the master waiting."

My brows drew together.

"For what?"

"Dinner."

"I can get dressed by myself."

"I'm certain you can."

She walked to the wardrobe anyway.

"But that isn't how things are done here."

Before I could protest, she disappeared inside the wardrobe and returned carrying an elegant gown of deep emerald silk. The fabric shimmered like liquid beneath the light.

My mouth fell open.

"You expect me to wear that... for dinner?"

"I do."

She held it against me with an approving nod.

"It suits you beautifully."

"I packed perfectly normal clothes."

"And they will remain perfectly suitable for another occasion."

I sighed dramatically.

"I have a feeling I'm not going to win this argument."

"No, miss."

Her smile was almost mischievous.

"You are not."

Twenty minutes later I found myself seated before the vanity while Margaret worked with practiced hands.

She pinned sections of my hair into a soft, elegant style that left loose curls framing my face before dusting the lightest touch of powder across my cheeks and adding a hint of color to my lips.

When she finally stepped back, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

"You look lovely," she said.

I smoothed my hands over the silk skirt, still amazed by how naturally it seemed to fit.

"It feels like I'm about to attend a royal banquet."

Margaret laughed softly.

"Only dinner, Miss Hawthorne."

There was another pause before she spoke again.

"The master is waiting for you downstairs in the dining room."

The words settled strangely in the room.

The master.

Not Sebastian.

Not Mr. Ravenscroft.

Just... the master.

Somehow, hearing it spoken aloud sent an unexpected flutter through my stomach.

I took one last look at my reflection before standing.

"Well," I murmured, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the gown, "I suppose I'd better not keep him waiting."