1. Miss Cordelia Green

Bing! The open hallways echoed the high-pitched chimes of the giant grandfather clock in the parlor.

Cordelia Green rolled her neck, then resumed her craned position looking down the hall. She listened to the bells ring four more times. Five o’clock.

She stood, tired of reading Mr. Blackburn’s books. She returned the hefty tome she had been working on to the shelf, placing it (Curious Findings in London) next to Ghost, Spector, or Spirit: A Guide.

She then left the drawing room and began down the hall. It was still unfamiliar to her: the layout of the house, the strange paintings on the walls, the ornate rugs and flowing curtains. It was very much like her previous residence in many ways, and so, so different in others.

The young woman paused just shy of a mirror, hesitant to walk past. She finally peered delicately in, finding her own wide, dark eyes staring back at her. They, at least, remained unchanged.

Her skin, though, was shockingly pale, very nearly white. She reached up and pulled the veil she so often wore nowadays over her face, shrouding herself in the dark mesh.

“Miss Green,” greeted a low voice.

Cordelia yanked her eyes from the mirror in a near guilty manor, and swung them to Gladwich. The footman, middle-aged but maintaining a quite boyish face, looked back at her innocently.

It still unnerved her that the servants in this household were so forthcoming; her servants had always been rather reserved.

“Any chance you’ve seen Mr. Blackburn?” Cordelia asked, looking past him to the parlor.

“Not since the morning, Miss Green.” Gladwich raised a brow at her then. “And I must say it’s a shame, for Missus Dowling has just made the most marvelous looking oyster pies.”

Cordelia gave a spiritless smile to the footman and replied, “Thank you, Gladwich.” It appeared she would be dining alone.

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Next chapter: https://theprose.com/post/290295/2-missing