After cleaning herself up, Josie opened the curtains. The rain had stopped and a thick fog covered the sprawling grounds behind the manor, leaving only the top of the barren trees visible. Even at this height, the sun had trouble breaking through the mist; however, it was still apparent that it was no longer night.

In spite of feeling weak and tired, she sluggishly pulled on her clothes from the prior evening. The knee-length, gray silk dress with a barely discernible flower motif was one of her finest, and she wore it to the theater often. Tied at the waist with a wide, matching ribbon, it was not quite the outfit of a small girl, but still not sophisticated enough for a young woman.

Slipping her dark brown booties over her cotton stockings, Josie tied the laces the way Mother had taught her. After arranging her hair in one, thick braid falling between her shoulder blades, she headed out of the room.

The wood paneled hallway with its red carpet and ancient décor was no less inviting than before. The sour expressions of long-dead relatives stared down on Josie as she passed underneath each one. The musty smell of the tapestries – containing strange scenes of battles – permeated the air, and Josie hastened her steps to clear her nose of the odor.

The shadows cast by the flaming sconces followed the girl as she made her way among countless twists and turns. No matter how hard she tried to find the marble staircase, however, Josie always ended up at the hidden door to the spiral stairs, instead.

Heeding the grumbling of her empty stomach, she finally gave up and took the narrow, winding steps back down to the parlor. When she pushed the door at the bottom open, however, Josie's eyes widened with surprise.

She was standing in a completely different room than the night before. Instead of the parlor's couches and armchairs, there was a long table with eight wooden chairs and an equal number of place settings.

How in the world did she end up here? Although many inexplicable things had happened since arriving at the mansion, they were just tricks of her imagination. Now that she was more fully rested, surely things should appear normal.

"Care for breakfast, Miss Josie?"

The butler's voice made her jump. Where did he come from?

"Yes . . . thank you, sir," the girl mumbled, sheepishly casting her gaze to her feet as she walked to the dining table.

She hadn't even noticed the old man, but seeing how quickly he placed a glass of milk and still-warm toast in front of her, he must have been waiting nearby. For his advanced age, Wesley was fast. Before Josie could even take a sip from the glass, he'd disappeared.

No matter. She'd spent many hours alone and was quite content without company. Shrugging her shoulders, she spread blackberry jam on her bread and took a bite.

It tasted like summer evenings in the Swinley Forest.

Inhaling the rest with milk in just a few mouthfuls, Josie prepared the second piece of toast while finally taking a moment to think.

There were eight place settings at the table. That meant that besides herself and Great Aunt Donatella, there were possibly up to six people in the manor she hadn't yet met. This made Josie both excited and nervous at the same time.

Finding she now had a hard time sitting still, the girl took the rest of her toast and left the table. Meandering to the fireplace, she munched while observing the various trinkets and knickknacks on the mantle.

There were candles and crystals, urns and bottles, statues and painted portraits, all surrounding a fancy clock that seemed to have stopped working. Popping the last piece of toast into her mouth, Josie wiped the crumbs from her hand on her skirt before reaching toward the clock's face.

"I wouldn't touch that, if I were you," an unfamiliar male voice interrupted.

Pulling her hand back to her side, Josie whipped her head around and looked at the unexpected newcomer leaning against the doorframe. "Who are you?"

The young man – just a few years older than her but at least a head taller – chuckled. Straightening up, he politely bowed in his impeccably tailored suit. "Ezra Mollick, at your service. And you must be Josie, am I right?"

Josie nodded toward the handsome stranger and tried to hide her discomfort. Raising her chin, she cleared her throat, stalling long enough to note he wore neither overcoat nor hat. "Do you live here, Ezra?" Josie assumed the most likely conclusion.

"My, my. You certainly have a lot of questions, don't you?" Still smiling, he took several steps toward her and pushed his fingers through his jet-black hair. "Those will get you in trouble one day."

Feeling her cheeks flush, Josie bit her lip. Fortunately, the butler reappeared just in time to save her from further embarrassment.

"Madam is taking her morning walk." He held Josie's cloak in his hands. "Perhaps you'd like to join her?"

"Thank you, Mister Wesley. That's an excellent idea. How can I find her?"

"Through the foyer, past the grand staircase and right into the conservatory." He helped the girl slip into her outerwear. "The door will lead you onto a gravel path. She'll be somewhere along the way."

"Thank you again." Josie nodded toward the old man before turning toward Ezra. "Good day, sir."

"Good day, Miss Josie." The young man winked as she walked past him, and a shiver ran up Josie's spine.