The Shadows of Ashwick Manor

Chapter 5: The Locked Room

Eleanor Blackwood's days at Ashwick Manor began to blur into a strange, disorienting rhythm. The oppressive atmosphere of the house weighed heavily on her, and the more she explored, the more she felt as though the manor itself was conspiring against her. There was an ever-present chill in the air, and the whispers she had first dismissed as mere figments of her imagination now seemed to follow her wherever she went.

The discovery of the portrait had disturbed her deeply, but it had also ignited an insatiable curiosity. The striking resemblance between herself and Lady Arabella Ashwick gnawed at her, feeding into her growing obsession with the manor's secrets. She spent every spare moment searching for clues about the mysterious woman, but her efforts were met with frustration at every turn.

It was during one of her restless wanderings that Eleanor stumbled upon the door.

She had been exploring the east wing of the manor, a part of the house she had not yet ventured into. The corridors here were narrower, the walls lined with dark wood paneling that seemed to absorb the light. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and dust, and the silence was broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards beneath her feet.

As she walked, Eleanor's thoughts were consumed by the portrait and the strange dreams that had plagued her since she first laid eyes on it. The woman's eyes haunted her, their intense gaze seeming to bore into her very soul, even in her sleep. She dreamed of shadowy figures and cold, clammy hands that reached out to her from the darkness. And always, there was the whisper of a voice—Lady Arabella's voice, she was certain—calling out to her from the depths of her nightmares.

Lost in thought, Eleanor almost missed the door entirely. It was set back into a small alcove, partially hidden by a heavy curtain of burgundy velvet. The door itself was plain, unadorned save for a single, iron lock that gleamed dully in the dim light. There was no handle, no visible keyhole—just the lock, and the faint, worn marks on the floor that suggested the door had not been opened in many years.

Eleanor paused, her curiosity piqued. The door was unlike any other she had encountered in the manor. It was not marked on any of the maps she had found in the library, and its location was far removed from the rest of the house's main rooms. She reached out and touched the cool wood, feeling a strange tingle run down her spine.

As she stood there, studying the door, she became aware of a presence behind her. She turned quickly, her heart racing, but found only empty air. The corridor was as silent and still as it had been moments before. But the feeling of being watched persisted, sending a shiver down her spine.

Determined to understand more, Eleanor approached the door again, this time pressing her ear against the wood. She held her breath, straining to hear any sound from within. At first, there was nothing—just the muffled silence of the manor. But then, faint and distant, she thought she heard something. A soft, rhythmic thumping, like the beat of a drum. Or was it a heartbeat?

The sound sent a jolt of fear through her, but also a surge of curiosity. What could be hidden behind this locked door? Why was it so carefully concealed? And why had it been left locked and forgotten for so long?

Eleanor stepped back and examined the lock more closely. It was old, the iron tarnished with age, but it seemed sturdy, its mechanisms still intact. She considered fetching a servant or even Lord Cedric himself, but something stopped her. The servants had been unforthcoming with information, and she doubted Lord Cedric would be any more forthcoming about this particular mystery.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden arrival of one of the manor's servants, a woman named Mrs. Winters. Mrs. Winters was one of the few staff members who had been with the Ashwick family for decades, and she carried herself with an air of authority and experience that made the other servants defer to her.