Chapter 14 - Packing the Single Bag
The basement staff quarters were deathly quiet when I pushed open the heavy wooden door and slid the iron latch into place. The small single cot, the scarred wooden dresser, and the single high window looking out onto the damp stone foundation walls felt smaller and more claustrophobic than ever before. I reached into the narrow wardrobe and pulled out a worn canvas duffel bag—the same bag I had carried into this county three months ago when I took the housemaid position.
I didn't have much to pack. A few plain cotton dresses, sensible shoes, a spare black uniform collar, and the manila envelope containing the municipal records report that Julian had left for me in the library. I placed the papers carefully at the bottom of the bag, right beneath the black glove I finally peeled off my left hand for the last time. The scarred tissue looked pale under the harsh yellow light of the overhead bulb, the jagged lines of the old burn no longer feeling like a shameful secret to be hidden behind fabric, but rather a stubborn proof of survival.
Outside in the hallway, the distant chime of the grandfather clock began to toll the midnight hour. Each heavy strike echoed through the stone foundations, marking the end of the grace period Clara had warned me about.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I zipped the canvas duffel bag shut and hoisted it over my shoulder. I stepped out into the service corridor, the air smelling of damp wool and floor wax. The house was completely still, the board members presumably gathered in the third-floor parlor while the staff remained sequestered below.
As I reached the end of the hall near the heavy iron exit leading to the rear parking lot, a tall figure stepped out from the shadows of the pantry alcove. Julian was wearing his dark coat, his dark hair slightly damp from the lingering mist outside, holding a set of car keys in his hand. He didn't say anything as he looked at the canvas bag over my shoulder, his gaze dropping briefly to my bare left hand resting against the strap before rising back to meet my eyes.
"The car is parked by the south gates," Julian said quietly, his voice steady and devoid of hesitation. "The main security cameras are down for scheduled maintenance until dawn."
"Clara?" I asked, stepping closer to him.
May you like
"Clara is finishing the audit," Julian replied with a faint, grim ghost of a smile. "She locked the front gates early, but she left the service exit wide open."
We walked side by side down the long, silent corridor toward the heavy iron door, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the stone walls for the last time. I didn't look back at the crystal chandeliers, the long dark wood dining tables, or the porcelain soup tureens that had started it all. As the heavy metal door swung outward into the cool American night, the rain had finally stopped, leaving a clear, star-studded sky stretching out over the highway beyond the estate walls.
