Chapter 4: A Wine Glass Trembling Beyond the Marble Hallway
Lily’s breathing had changed by the time we reached the top of the cellar steps. It was still thin and uneven, but the hard silence between each breath had shortened. I kept one hand beneath her shoulder and the other around the pink inhaler case, afraid that any careless movement would undo the small improvement. Her stuffed rabbit was pressed between us, its worn ear caught beneath her chin. Leo carried most of her weight, his black overcoat brushing the stone wall as he climbed.
I followed close behind, my split cheek pulling whenever I swallowed. Blood had dried along my jaw, and the torn edge of my uniform caught on the rough stair beside me. I ignored both. The cellar door stood open above us, its iron weight held against the wall. Cold air continued to spill through the doorway, carrying the smell of stone and dust into the warmer hall.
Leo reached the marble floor and lowered Lily carefully against his chest. Her dark hair covered one eye. He moved it aside with two fingers, then watched the rise of her coat. His attention stayed on her face, but his body turned toward the hallway, placing himself between Lily and the rest of the mansion.
That was when I saw Victoria Kensington.
She stood beyond the archway where the polished floor reflected the chandelier light. The wine glass in her hand trembled so visibly that a thin red line climbed the bowl and fell back again. She did not step toward us. She did not step away. The glass remained lifted near her chest while she looked past Leo toward the open cellar.
For a moment, her eyes moved to me. They paused on the split in my cheek, then returned to Lily. Her fingers tightened around the stem. I could not tell whether she had expected to see a child carried from below, whether she feared what the open door might reveal, or whether the sight had simply shocked her. Her face supplied no answer. The trembling did.
Leo noticed her then. His gaze shifted from Lily to Victoria and back again, measuring both without releasing the child. The change was small, but I felt it. His concern for Lily did not lessen; it divided. One part of him remained fixed on her breathing. Another part had begun counting who had been present in the hallway and what each person might have seen.
Lily coughed against his coat. Her fingers closed around the rabbit’s body, and her knees drew slightly inward. I brought the inhaler case closer, keeping it open in my palm. Leo looked down at the movement, then adjusted Lily so her head rested higher against his shoulder. Her next breath came with a faint rasp, followed by another cough.
Victoria lowered the wine glass. A dark drop slid over her knuckle. She watched it without wiping it away. Then she turned toward the farther corridor, moving quickly enough that the hem of her clothing skimmed the marble, and disappeared beyond the edge of the archway.
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I stayed where I was, listening to Lily breathe and to the faint settling groan of the cellar door behind us. The entrance remained open. The deadbolt hung back from its strike plate, and the flickering bulbs below cast a broken yellow shape across the first steps. Nothing had been closed, cleaned, or explained.
Leo carried Lily toward the kitchen area. I walked beside him, one hand hovering near her back while the pink case rested against my wrist. Behind us, the cellar waited in full view, and Victoria’s trembling glass remained the only clear sign that someone else understood the danger before we did.
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