Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,61

way to the next room. “It must be some kind of demon from the forest like we were talking about before, or maybe it’s a stranger from the city who isn’t known to us.”

Serafina agreed that the lack of clues was discouraging, but there were still at least a dozen more rooms to check. They moved on to the Sheraton Room and the Old English Room.

When they searched the Morland Room, she looked into each of Mr. Rostonov’s beautiful, hand-painted traveling cases. Her heart filled with sadness when she found a chest filled with lovely Russian dresses. They were such amazing gowns, with deep frills and exotic patterns.

“It doesn’t feel right to be here,” Braeden said uncomfortably.

As they were crawling through a shaft to the next room, they heard several women talking in a hallway on the level below. They shinnied down a shaft to get a closer look.

“That’s my aunt’s room,” Braeden said nervously.

“Let’s stay quiet…” Serafina whispered, then peered through a grate to look into the room.

When Serafina looked down into Mrs. Vanderbilt’s room, she beheld the glittering purple-and-gold French-style bedroom, with its elegant, curvy furniture and fancifully trimmed mirrors. She thought it was the most beautiful room she had ever seen. It wasn’t rectangular in shape like a normal room, but oval. The gold silk walls, the bright windows, and even the delicately painted doors were curved along the lines of the oval. The bed coverings, draperies, and furniture upholstery were all finely cut purple velvet. The room positively glowed with sunlight, and she would have loved to curl up on Mrs. Vanderbilt’s bed. She was just about to suggest to Braeden that they risk climbing into the room when Braeden grabbed her arm.

“Wait. There’s my aunt,” he said as Mrs. Vanderbilt came slowly into the room, followed by her lady’s maid and her household assistant.

“These are such lonely and frightening times,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said with sadness. “I would like to do something for the families, something to bring everyone together and strengthen our spirits. This evening, we’ll gather in the Banquet Hall at seven o’clock. The electric lighting still isn’t working, so stoke up the fires and bring in as many candles and oil lamps as you can. Arrange it with the kitchen so that we can provide everyone with something to eat. It won’t be a formal sit-down dinner or any sort of party, mind you; it’s just not the appropriate time for that, but we must do something.”

“I’ll go down to the kitchens and talk to the cook,” her assistant said.

“I think it’s important that we gain the comfort of spending some time together, whether we’re frightened, grieving, or still holding on to hope,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said.

“Yes, ma’am,” her lady’s maid said.

Serafina thought it was kind of Mrs. Vanderbilt to arrange the gathering.

It was well known at Biltmore that Mrs. Vanderbilt liked to learn the names and faces of all the children of both the guests and servants, and when Christmas came, she and her lady’s maid would go shopping in Asheville and the surrounding villages and buy each one of the children a special gift. Sometimes, if she heard that a child wanted a particular present that wasn’t available in the area, Mrs. Vanderbilt would send away to New York for it, and it would miraculously arrive a few days later on the train. On Christmas morning, she would invite all the families to gather around the Christmas tree, where she would hand each child his or her gift: a porcelain-faced doll, a soft toy bear, a pocketknife—it all depended on the child. Serafina remembered her own Christmas mornings, sitting in the basement, curled up on the stone floor at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the children laughing and playing with their toys above her.

Over the next few hours, the word spread, and the guests and servants began preparing for the upcoming gathering.

“My aunt and uncle are going to want me to be there, so I’ve got to go,” Braeden said glumly. “I wish you could come with me. You must be as hungry as I am.”

“I’m starving. It’s going to be in the Banquet Hall, right? I’ll be there in spirit. Just don’t let anyone play the pipe organ,” Serafina said.

“I’ll sneak you some food,” he said as they parted.

While Braeden went to his bedroom to dress for the gathering, Serafina snuck into position. She moved through the secret passages behind the upper levels of the organ that she’d learned