Page 54

When I get down to the main doors I ask one of the men at the door—Ciccio I think is his name—if there’s an electronic security system on the house. In other words, will there be a blaring alarm if I open the door?
“No, Ma’am. The team guards the house and perimeter. You’re free to come and go without alarms going off.”
I step outside and walk around. The moon is still almost full, and even though the fountain is lit and there’s some other outside lighting, I’m sure the moonlight alone would be enough to navigate the area.
I wonder what the staff thinks about all this? Do they know I was forced to marry him? How can they not at least suspect? I’m sure my personal goons have to know. Would they have gossiped to the rest of the staff?
They certainly don’t treat me like a prisoner. Except for that initial conversation I had to have with Cora, no one else has given me any indication of any intention to treat me as either a child or inmate.
I wander the enormous estate grounds and make my way through an outdoor hedge maze in the garden. This is the first time I’ve ever felt safe wandering around outside as a woman at night. And it’s not just because I’m not in the middle of the city. There are a lot of men here, and since they’re armed guards working for someone like Aidan, I can assume they are dangerous people.
But they aren’t dangerous to Me because somehow I know they know that if they laid a hand on me or tried anything inappropriate, they would die. Knowing Aidan doesn’t always outsource killing to others makes me feel weirdly safe. I still don’t know if I’m actually safe with Aidan. Not enough time has passed to gauge the safety of my situation, but I know I’m safe from anyone else, particularly anyone working on Aidan’s property.
Inside the hedge maze are several nice seating areas along with plants and climbing vines that grow well in the shadows. There is various statuary featuring gods of greek mythology tucked away throughout the maze.
I continue winding my way through until I finally reach the center. Guarding the doorway is a particularly striking marble statue of Medusa holding a man’s severed head in one hand and a sword in the other with her glorious snake hair flowing out behind her. She’s nude and covered in blood. It echoes a contemporary sculpture of Medusa with the head of Perseus, but more raw and wild.
The immediate feel of the piece is that even though she’s unclothed, she’s so dangerous to men that she need not fear not being covered up. It would be suicide to mess with her.
There’s a plaque at the bottom of the statue: In loving memory of Evelyn Stryker. Then there is her birth and death date. There’s another date underneath. The year the work was completed. Last year. This is a new commissioned piece. It wasn’t made soon after her death by his father as one might expect. Aidan must have had this made for his mother. It’s not the obvious choice for a piece of art to honor your deceased mother.
I stumble back when I take a closer look at the severed head… it looks like… Aidan. Except there’s no face scar. And so now I am all the way confused. Why? Just… why? What kind of weird fucked-up relationship did he have with his mother?
I move past the vengeful Medusa into a large circular open garden filled with roses and night-blooming jasmine. There are more seating areas, and not just benches, but more cushioned and comfortable spots, some in shade, where one might actually be able to sit for long periods of time with a book and not become uncomfortable. More statuary is placed around the garden, only these statues aren’t Greek mythology. They’re Victorian-era ladies and gentlemen.
LED lights are recessed into the ground, shining up on each of them, illuminating the plaques that indicate characters from Jane Austen’s novels.
The crowning jewel of the garden is a well-lit large stone fountain in the middle featuring ladies with parasols reading books and fish seeming to jump out of the fountain with the water coming out of their mouths. A quote is engraved into the base of the fountain:
“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” - Jane Austen.
I wonder when this was built. If Aidan was behind all of it, there had to be hundreds of craftsmen working around the clock. It must still be quite new. Or did his father have this built and Aidan just commissioned Medusa?
But why? Why does Medusa guard this Jane Austen garden? Why are two such seemingly different things standing in honor of her memory?
I make my way back into the house and duck into the kitchen for some of the snacks Claude made for me. There are a couple of mini bottles of Champagne chilling in the fridge, so I pour a flute and make a plate with cheese, meat, grapes, and crackers, as well as a couple of savory mini quiches.
By the time I’ve finished, it’s become very obvious that nobody is going to follow me around, ask what I’m doing, or try to monitor my comings and goings. No one is going to ask why I’m up and about at night or suggest I should be off to bed by now. The only person in this house who might have done such a thing is Cora, and this late at night she’s probably long ago fallen asleep. She has to get up before six each morning to start managing the household, after all.
I finally feel safe to go inspect the door to Aidan’s study. There’s nobody in this hallway or part of the house. Being just off the dining room on the south end of the house, there would be no reason for anyone to venture down here late at night. There’s a whole other main entrance to the kitchen, and the closest guards are outside guarding the side door that leads from the kitchen into the herb garden.
Just down from the herb garden is a small cottage that I thought was something like a mother-in-law house, but turns out, it’s for a live-in chef and where Claude is sleeping this week, and where he may be living more permanently if I determine I require him here to cook everything fresh.
I should talk to him and see what he really wants. Does he have a family he’s being taken away from?
One of the hall sconces provides just enough light over the door as I attempt to pick the lock. On the fourth try, I finally hear it click over and turn the handle to open the door. The lock is just a regular door lock, but it’s not a typical interior house lock that could be opened with a simple nail file. I saw a regular jagged edge key in Aidan’s hand when he locked it earlier today.
I close and lock the door behind me. There’s a large window on one end of the room so I don’t risk either closing the drapes or turning on the light. There’s enough light from exterior lighting and the moonlight for me to find my way around.
I pull out the copy of Meditations, at least happy to know now that I can take a closer look at it, that it is actually a real book. The mechanism to open the secret passage isn’t this specific book, it’s the location of the book, which sits snuggly on top of a small pressure lever. When the pressure is removed by the removal of the book from the bookcase, the bookcase door on the other wall slides open.
There’s a light switch on the wall just inside the secret door, and this one I do turn on. There’s no way I’m descending into whatever this is in the dark. A staircase spirals down to a large underground room. There’s a second desk and chair in here, and several tall dark wood cabinets lining the walls. I scan the room for indications of cameras, but I can’t find any. It doesn’t mean there aren’t any here, but I doubt Aidan feels the need to have heavy security in a secret passage room, particularly when his house is so heavily guarded.
I go through the drawers, again, not knowing what I’m looking for. I don’t think I’m actually looking for anything, not really. I just… want to know what Aidan keeps behind a secret door. I’m curious that way.
Once again, I’m disappointed not to find any secret villain plans or criminal schematics. What I do find is a very ornate looking, very large stiff envelope addressed to Aidan. The postmark is December 13th of last year. The return address is only an address, no name: 30 Avenue Montaigne, 75008 Paris, France.
I don’t know what I expected to find inside, but what I do find is more shocking to me than any crime plans. It’s drawings of my wedding dress!