Amanderella and the Mystery of the Silent Statue.Chapter 5.

Chapter Five.

 

More Mysteries.

 

“Once upon a time, the front door would have been opened by a housekeeper, or a butler. But Werlyn dismissed them all. After that, he rebuilt the house to suit himself, and only himself,” Amanderella said.

Sir Cottam blinked. “So, he opened the door himself because… there was no one else left to do it.”

“Exactly,” Amanderella said. “And because he didn’t want anyone else knowing what he was doing to the house.”

“He redesigned it all in secret. But why?” Sir Cottam looked genuinely puzzled. “He never struck me as that odd, except for buying so much rubbish.”

Amanderella stepped back from the painted corridor wall, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “He wasn’t odd,” she said. “Not in the way you mean. He was deliberate. He liked things arranged exactly as he wanted them. He liked puzzles. He liked privacy. And he liked control.”

Sir Cottam frowned. “Control?”

“Yes. He controlled what you saw. He controlled where you walked. He controlled which rooms existed for visitors and which existed only for him. When Mrs Bleam left, he no longer had to explain himself to anyone. So, he rebuilt the house to suit his habits, not other people’s expectations.”

Sir Cottam looked around the vestibule as though seeing it for the first time. “Good heavens. He really did live in a world of his own.”

Amanderella nodded. “And he made sure no one else could enter it. Not properly. Not without solving his puzzles.” She laid her palm against the painted wall. “And whatever he was protecting,” she said softly, “lies beyond this.”

“That does sort of make sense,” agreed Sir Cottam. “We used to exchange little puzzle‑verses,” he said. “The sort where the first letters spell one thing and the last letters spell another. Werlyn adored them.”

Amanderella’s eyebrows lifted. “Word puzzles?”

“Oh yes,” Sir Cottam said, brightening. “He was frightfully good at them. Infuriatingly good, actually. He could finish them before I had even sharpened my pencil. That was how we met, you know.”

Amanderella glanced at him. “Through puzzles?”

“Yes. I first saw his name in The Strand Magazine. He had sent in a particularly fiendish puzzle; the editor printed it with a note saying it had defeated half the office. I wrote in with a solution and a small compliment. Werlyn wrote back to correct my reasoning.” Sir Cottam gave a small, fond sigh. “Three pages of corrections, in fact. Very polite ones. We corresponded for months,” Sir Cottam went on. “He sent me puzzles; I sent him attempts at answers. Eventually he invited me to Radboon Manor.”

Amanderella gave a small, thoughtful nod. “Then this house is exactly what he would build.”

Sir Cottam blinked. “A house?”

“A puzzle,” she corrected. “A riddle in wood and plaster. Clues hidden in plain sight. Answers tucked behind misdirection. A structure that only makes sense if you know the theme.”

Sir Cottam looked around the vestibule with new unease. “Good heavens. I thought he simply liked… oddities.”

“He did,” Amanderella said. “But he liked cleverness more. And privacy most of all. Once Mrs Bleam left, he had no one to question him. No one to tidy behind him. No one to ask why a corridor suddenly didn’t lead anywhere.”

Sir Cottam swallowed. “So, he rebuilt the house as a… game?”

“A game,” Amanderella agreed softly, “that only he knew how to play.” She laid her hand once more on the painted corridor wall. “And now,” she added, “we must learn the rules. But he left the board set,” she murmured. “And that means he expected someone to follow.”

Sir Cottam sighed. “I suppose so. But we mustn’t forget why we’re here. We’re not simply… poking about. We’re looking for his will. I remember witnessing it. I put my name to it. It must be somewhere.”

“Oh, it is,” Amanderella said. “No one would misplace something so important. It would be hidden. Carefully. Deliberately. Anyone worthy of finding it would have to follow his trail.” She tapped the painted corridor wall with one gloved finger. “And this is the next clue.”

Sir Cottam stared at the false perspective, his expression tightening. “Good heavens. You think he hid the will behind that?”

“I think,” Amanderella said, “that Werlyn hid the will somewhere only he could reach. Somewhere beyond the rooms he allowed you to see. Somewhere in the part of the house that he rebuilt for himself. If the statue is as important as you say,” she added, “then whatever lies behind this wall is the heart of the puzzle. It may be a staircase. Or something that leads to one. The will may be near it. Or guarded by it.”

Sir Cottam swallowed. “Guarded?”

Amanderella didn’t answer. She let her gaze travel along the mouldings that framed it. The panelling was uniform, repeating the same pattern down the length of the hall, except for one piece. “There,” she said quietly.

Sir Cottam leaned in. “What am I looking at?”

The moulding just to the right of the picture bore a small carved arrow, its point angled toward the frame. No other section had anything like it.

Sir Cottam frowned. “Decoration?”

“No,” Amanderella said. “Direction.” She pressed the moulding where the arrow pointed.

A soft click answered her. The trompe‑l’œil swung forward on a concealed hinge.

Sir Cottam stared. “You’re joking.”

Amanderella smiled faintly. “A man who builds doors like this,” she said, “doesn’t joke about them.”

Sir Cottam inclined his head. “Then after you, my lady.”

Amanderella led the way and he followed close behind, careful not to brush the painted wall as he passed. They took two steps in darkness. Then the air changed. Amanderella felt cold on her face, real cold, not the stale chill of an unused passage. She blinked as daylight struck her.

Sir Cottam let out a soft, incredulous sound. “We’re outside.” He glanced around, taking in the clipped yew, the gravel path, the leaning apple tree. “Well,” he murmured, “at least the back garden is tidier than the front. Though that apple tree looks as though it’s trying to escape.”

Before either of them could turn, the panel behind them swung shut with a decisive, wooden thud. Amanderella reached it in two strokes. There was no handle. No seam. Nothing but the smooth, painted surface of the house wall.

Sir Cottam tried the edge with his fingertips. “It’s locked us out.”

Amanderella stepped back, studying the blank expanse of wall with a calm that Sir Cottam found faintly alarming.

“I mean… good heavens,” he said faintly. “One moment we were in a corridor, the next we’re standing by the yew hedge. I’ve never left a house by accident before.”

Amanderella studied the wall, and a faint smile touched her mouth. “Thrown out of a house by a picture,” she murmured. “That’s a first.”

Sir Cottam blinked. “You find this funny?”

“A little,” she admitted. “He seems to have had a sense of humour.”

“Can you open the door?” asked Sir Cottam. “I am not sure I want to spend the rest of the day out here.”

“No,” she said. “It only works one way.”

Sir Cottam stared at her. “Then what was the point of it?”

Amanderella looked toward the house, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Werlyn wanted anyone who found the picture‑door to think they’d solved it,” she said. “But the staircase isn’t out here. It’s still inside. This one won’t open from the outside; it was meant to be used only in one direction.”

Sir Cottam sighed. “So… front door again.”

“Yes,” Amanderella said, already turning toward the path. “And once we’re inside, we look for the entrance he actually intended us to find.”

Sir Cottam fell into step beside her. “I suppose that means another of his little tricks.”

Amanderella’s expression softened. “In a place designed by someone who enjoyed puzzles as much as he seems to have done,” she murmured, “nothing is ever simple.”

They set off along the gravel path. They walked the length of the garden wall and rounded the corner of the house. Amanderella slowed, her gaze travelling along the shuttered windows.

Sir Cottam followed her look. “Taking the air, or taking notes?”

“Notes,” she said. “The house is more forthcoming from the outside.”

They passed the drawing room window, the only one she recognised. Beyond it, another shuttered sash stood in the wall, then another, spaced evenly along the façade.

Sir Cottam frowned. “We haven’t been in any rooms along here.”

“No,” Amanderella agreed. “Yet the house clearly has them.” She paused, counting silently. “The vestibule has no windows. The hall has none. And we have only seen the drawing room. But the exterior shows at least three more ground‑floor rooms on this side of the house.”

They rounded the back corner and continued along the far side. More shuttered windows appeared, evenly spaced, all at ground‑floor height.

Sir Cottam gave a low whistle. “There must be half a dozen rooms along here.”

“At least,” Amanderella said. “And we’ve been shown only one. The exterior shows many more ground‑floor rooms than we’ve been allowed to enter.”

Sir Cottam stared at the shuttered walls. “So Werlyn hid them.”

They rounded the far corner of the house and came back toward the front. Amanderella paused, her gaze lifting to the upper storey.

Sir Cottam followed her look. “What now?”

“Just counting,” she said.

Above them, a neat row of shuttered first‑floor windows stared down like blind eyes. There were more of them than she expected, far more than the ground‑floor rooms they had visited could account for.

Sir Cottam frowned. “We haven’t been up there.”

“No,” Amanderella said. “But the house has a first floor,” she said simply. “And quite a large one. We know that there is a staircase. And since we haven’t found it…” She let the sentence trail off.

Sir Cottam finished it for her. “It’s hidden.”

Amanderella nodded. “Just like the missing ground‑floor rooms. It looks to me as if Werlyn didn’t want people blundering into the answer,” she said. “He wanted them to enjoy the chase.”

Sir Cottam sighed. “So, we go back in.”

“Yes,” she said. “And this time, we look for the way up.”