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  “It’s as though I know this room. Wet laundry was hung over there.”

  When Graydon looked where she was pointing, he saw some big iron hooks in the beams. Perfect for a clothesline.

  “Herbs dried over there. There were a lot of them needed for the candles.” There were holes where smaller hooks had once been.

  “We … I mean, they sold candles. The children played in that corner. Young Thomas cried because the toy his father made him fell through the boards and we couldn’t find it.” Toby threw up her hands. “This is strange. Why do I keep making up these things? Maybe I should tell Victoria and she can use the stories in her books.”

  “Or you could write them yourself.”

  “No, thanks!” Toby said. “Being a writer is too isolated for me.”

  “So what do you want?” he asked, his face serious.

  “I’m an American. I want it all. Husband, kids, nice house, a career that makes me feel that I’m doing something to help people. You ready to go downstairs?”

  “After you.” As he followed her downstairs, he said softly, “That’s exactly what I want out of my life too.”

  They spent half an hour looking in each of the four bedrooms and three baths, checking for water damage or mold, but saw none.

  Toby flipped light switches and turned on faucets, but nothing happened. “The utilities were on the night I slept here. Did someone turn them off?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Graydon said as they went downstairs. What he hadn’t told her was that he was most curious to see the room that she said frightened her.

  They went down the large main staircase and he followed as she went from room to room. He never remarked on how familiar she seemed to be with the house. On the day they argued—well, actually, Graydon hadn’t said much—he got the idea she hadn’t done much exploring.

  “The dining room. Wouldn’t this look wonderful with half a dozen Oriental carpets? All of them on top of each other. Brought back from faraway places and shiny new. A Queen Anne dining set with seats upholstered in red plush, brought over from London, would be in the middle of the room.”

  Next was what she called “the stair room.” “The family would use this. It would keep the children off the front stairs, which meant that no adults tripped over their games, shoes, and dropped mittens.”

  “And Young Thomas’s lost toy?”

  Toby laughed. “He was a corker. Lost everything as he walked.” She went through a door to a narrow room full of cabinets, with a tiny powder room tucked against the wall. “Of course this wasn’t here,” she said of the modern plumbing.

  “What was the room used for?”

  “Concoctions,” she said quickly. “Anything that could be made to sell. Candles, face creams, cordials—and soap. But then, Valentina and her transparent soap took that market away from everyone else.”

  Graydon followed her and listened. She went to a room she called the back parlor, to a bedroom, and finally into the kitchen. “This is all new,” she said.

  Since the kitchen didn’t look like it had been remodeled since the 1950s, what she was saying was odd.

  Again, Graydon was glad to see no sign of leakage about the house. It may not have been lived in for years, but someone had done a good job of maintaining it. They went back to the front and into the big parlor. The fireplace, with its carved surround, was beautiful. In the back was the sitting room where Graydon had found Toby sleeping. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her, so he’d returned to the house to get food, a blanket, and a pillow. And he’d not let her know that he had slept on a hastily prepared pallet just outside the door. He wasn’t about to let her spend the night alone in that big, empty house! Just as he’d hoped, the next morning she’d awakened in a better mood.

  “That’s all of it,” Toby said. “There’s a cellar, but it’s not very big and is only used for storage. If you want to see it, we can.” She started to leave the room.

  “Wait,” he said. “Where is the room you’re afraid of?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Toby said and began to walk faster.

  Graydon stepped in front of her and put his hands on her arms. “It’s all right. I’m here and you’re safe.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she repeated, louder and stronger. She twisted away from him. “I think I’ll go back home. I’ll see you later.”

  She hurried out of the house so quickly that Graydon was reminded of a cartoon character going so fast he couldn’t be seen. He was torn between wanting to go after her and staying in the house to find what had so upset her.

  It didn’t take him long to find the hidden room. But then the palace had rooms and closets and stairs hidden everywhere, so he knew what to look for. Finding the way to open the door that was so cleverly hidden in the paneling took longer. Slide, push, lift. He had to do them all to get the door open.

  What he saw was a small room with a window in the far wall. To his right was an old cabinet that looked original to the house. There was a frame for what looked to have been a sort of chaise longue.

  He wondered what the room had been used for originally. Maybe it had once been a place to store wood for the many huge fireplaces in the house. But no, that would have been outside. What he didn’t see was anything about the room that would cause fear in anyone.

  But as he stood there, it was as though a feeling of sadness began to come over him. He needed to leave and see if Toby was all right, but he didn’t move. Slowly, he was beginning to feel that his life was ending, that everything he’d ever thought and felt, all he’d ever wanted to do, all that he’d ever accomplished, meant nothing.

  A low light seemed to fill the room and he could hear a woman weeping, then two women, then more. It was as if the whole room was full of women crying in grief.

  When Graydon felt like there was a weight on his chest and he couldn’t breathe, he turned and left the room. He slammed the old door, then bolted it. For a moment he leaned against it, his heart pounding. The little room he was in, with the old cot and the fireplace on the far wall, seemed very normal. And the whole house was quiet. Yet he had just felt the most extreme sadness he’d ever known in his life.

  As he stepped away from the panel, he decided to call his aunt Cale and see what she knew about the history of the house. Knowing her, by now she’d thoroughly researched every year of its existence. And Graydon wanted to know every bit of it.

  He slowly walked back to Toby’s small house. The front door was open and for a moment he stood in the small entryway. He needed some time to calm himself after being in that room in the old house.

  “You have to help me with these party plans,” he heard Toby say. “I do not know how to do this,” Lorcan said, sounding confused. “I’ll show you,” Toby said.

  Graydon smiled, as he had an idea that Lorcan wasn’t used to the easy chatter of female friends.

  He well remembered Lorcan when she was twelve and had just qualified to enter the government program. She had been a tall, thin girl in clothes too short for her, but her grandparents couldn’t afford more. Their faces had shown their love and hope for their only grandchild.

  Graydon had attended the welcoming ceremony, then, as always, had hung around for a few days to watch the students. It amazed him that you couldn’t predict who would succeed and who would fail. He and Daire had long ago seen that, even more than muscle and training, it was heart and will that made a champion.

  For three days the students were allowed to wrestle, fight with rubber swords, train in a gym, and attend a few academic classes. During those days, little instruction was given, and few rules. The idea was to see what each student was capable of, without interference.

  On the first day, Graydon had been called away by his mother to be charming to some women who were making new cushions for their private chapel. It had been difficult for him to say the empty phrases of flattery, as his mind was elsewhere.

  That night, over beers, Daire said, “I have a cha