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lounge room.
    The wardrobe door stood open a crack, showing a sliver of black silk, and Adrienne edged towards it. It looked like the type of wardrobe that would have a mirror in its door, but she already suspected this one would be different. She wasn’t wrong.
    The hinges complained as they turned, but the door opened smoothly. The inside of the wood was bare save for another scratchy message: NO MIRRORS
    “No mirrors,” Adrienne agreed. Small holes in the wood at the top and base of the door told her that a mirror had once hung in the wardrobe but had been removed. Why, Edith?
    Adrienne looked away from the door and towards the row of dark dresses. They surprised her, and she set the lamp onto the floor before pulling one of them out to get a clearer look at it. The gown could have come out of the props department in a Victorian-era film. Heavy black silk with lace detailing, a low hem, and a high neckline must have created a startling effect when worn. Adrienne blinked, and all of a sudden she was back in the car, her mother’s frantic breaths echoing in her ears, as she watched Ashburn’s door glide open. A tall figure, dressed in black, moved to stand in the opening, and Adrienne had an impression of a pale, long face and glittering black eyes before the memory faded and she found herself back in Edith’s bedroom.
    She sagged away from the wardrobe, breathing quickly. She was suddenly acutely aware of the gown’s length. Adrienne wasn’t short, but in order to keep the skirts from brushing the ground, she had to hold the dress so high that the lace gathered at the neck was at her eye level. She licked her lips as the new information coalesced with her existing knowledge of Edith and transformed the elderly woman in her mind’s eye into a tall, gaunt, black-clothed wraith.
    She couldn’t help her height. The long, pale face from her memory burnt itself into the back of her eyes. And she probably wore black in mourning. Doesn’t stop her from being a good, kind person.
    The dress was hung back amongst its companions, and Adrienne reverently closed the wardrobe doors. Her fingers were trembling, and she balled them into fists to keep them still.
    It was stupid to come up here on my first night. I should’ve stayed with Wolf and saved the exploring until morning.
    A pipe in the walls behind her rattled, startling her, and she snatched up the lamp and hurried to the door. As she slipped through the gap, a dozen pairs of eyes arrested her. She stayed rooted to the spot for a second, scanning the row of portraits, then followed the hallway to the stairs and hurried down them.
    She hadn’t noticed it before, but the family in the portraits all wore Victorian-style clothes not unlike the ones she’d found in Edith’s wardrobe.
    Were they her family? Could she be the child in the paintings, perhaps?
    The grandfather clock began chiming as she took the stair’s corner. She tried to count the off-note clangs, but her mind was still buzzing with the new familiarity with Edith, and she lost count. It was either ten or eleven at night; either way, time for bed.
    Wolfgang still lay on the rug in front of the fire but had rolled onto his back so that his four paws stuck up into the air and his belly was exposed. Except that one eye lazily drifted open at her entrance, he could have passed for roadkill. Adrienne laughed at the sight, and the unease created by the upstairs rooms melted away.
    The fire was burning low, so she added two new logs and placed the kettle back over the flames to reheat. Then she pulled her sheets and pillow out of the travel case and looked about the room.
    Other than the fireside chair, there were two lounge chairs. One had well-squished cushions, but the second seemed infrequently used. She chose the latter, draping one sheet over the cushions and arranging the second on top. She hadn’t brought any proper blankets but had a thick shawl that would do until she could find out if Edith had a