Chapter 33: Chapter 33 – Something´s sus among the corridors

How had that thing gotten to this point? Had Mallory returned it without saying anything? No, that wasn´t possible. Mallory was the type of person who wouldn't shut up when being upset with something. If she had previously been so against giving this back to Madeleine, she wouldn´t have been persuaded to do so. So, was it Madeleine's thing? Oscar could imagine her finding her necklace among her possessions, wondering briefly what was doing there and then, casually, deciding this must be a mistake and that he had left the necklace there.

Oscar sighed. Hadn't he specified to Mallory that she should hide this well in the suitcase so that Madeleine wouldn't find out until after they got home? Oh well, it didn't matter now. It seemed that Madeleine must have made the decision to endorse it to him again that morning, while he was gone. And she had done it on her own account, since if she hadn't, Mallory would have warned her.

It was also probable the protagonist had no idea what Oscar's luggage was -since all bags were alike- and, in order not to make another mistake, she would have chosen to leave the necklace on the desk, where everyone who passed by that room could see.

Is this why Albert was upset? Oscar wondered. But he immediately answered himself, ruling out that possibility. There was no reason for the villain to be angry about finding a necklace in the service room, unless he believed it was stolen. And if that was the train of thought that followed, wouldn't he have warned the people or asked those who occupied the room about it? Not to mention that even if there was a necklace of dubious provenance on a table, there was no proof that it had anything to do with Oscar.

Picking up the necklace, Oscar decided it would be best to talk to Madeleine about it. Well, now that she had gotten what she wanted, there was no reason for her to reject it.

Putting the villain's implausible anger on hold, Oscar rushed out of the service wing and proceeded to search for Madeleine. The masters weren´t very fond of him walking down the ground floor when they had guests, but what could be unforgivable would be to go up to the first floor, where the lords' rooms were located. Hence, he thought that he should hurry to find her, before she retired to sleep and was already unattainable until the next day.

He asked one of the maids as he passed by and, with that, obtained the exact location of the protagonist. If he avoided certain corridors, he could get to the little room where she was staying with some of the other women, without being discovered. Hence, he chose to sneak, as if he were the criminal he was looking for, taking advantage of the shadows and pretending that he knew exactly where he was going when he passed one or two servants who passed by without even making eye contact with him.

Although someone had told him which room Madeleine was in, it took a while for Oscar to get there. The Ramsey mansion was so large that it was easy to get lost in the corridors. And Oscar didn't know when he deviated — if he did — because when he was near the living room, he saw Patrick Seymour come out of what must have been a small office.

To say that he ran into him would be inaccurate, rather, they almost bumped into each other. Although it wasn´t Oscar's fault, since he had seen the protagonist leave and had turned away from him. But there must be something wrong with Patrick, because the guy was dead pale and his legs didn't even seem to be working normally when he almost tripped over his own feet.

Oscar thought it best to keep walking and pretend he hadn't seen him in such a sorry state. In any case, the protagonist's eyes looked like those of a dead fish and there was always the possibility that, in the middle of his trance, he hadn´t seen him.

"Owen, it's good that you're here, so I'll save myself from calling Lamb," said Patrick, who seemed to still have a thread of life. “Do something useful for once in your life and take me to my room, I'm too tired to walk.”

Perhaps by "carry" he meant lending him a shoulder to lean on. And Oscar was willing to help, even if he was obliged, but it was not expected that the protagonist would take advantage of that moment in which he approached to throw himself on his back as if he was an old sack.

Oscar almost fell. Having taken a few seconds to stabilize, he felt the urge to drop him. But he didn´t do it for two reasons: The first, because he remembered that that idiot was still the one who paid him his salary. And the second, and even more important, because Patrick had placed his arms around his neck, and Oscar felt that if he didn´t continue to hold him, he would end up hanged.

All right, just take him to his room? Then it would be better to end this soon so that no one would see them.

"No, don't go this way," Patrick complained, tapping with his shoes on the other's legs, as if he were trying to redirect a disobedient horse. “That way he goes to the main room, and you don't want someone to see us in such a crowded place!”

It was true that, since this room was in the center of the house, there were many rooms and corridors that were connected through it. The main stairs were also there and, therefore, it was an area very frequented by both masters and service.

"But I was just there a moment ago and no one was there," Oscar protested. “Also, if I go up the back stairs, I´ll have to go all the way around the mansion. Wouldn't that be more likely to be seen?”

“I will not tell you! I know exactly where each individual is in this house, so go where I tell you and don't argue with me. Otherwise, tomorrow I´ll have you collecting all the partridges in the wasteland, and you´ll deal alone with the dogs and their owners!”

Hearing this threat, Oscar had no choice but to comply. He didn't trust Patrick's radar skills at all, so he had to be more vigilant than ever to avoid bumping into anyone by accident.

"To all this," Oscar began softly, "is it possible to know why are you so interested in not being discovered by going to your room?"

Oscar not wanting it to be known that he was going to meet the daughter of his former employer in the middle of the night made sense, but the thing about Patrick was unheard of. If it was because of trying not to lose his dignity, trying that no one see him riding on the back of one of his servants, didn´t make much sense: The protagonist had already been spotted on countless occasions drunk, going badly out of taverns where he caused unnecessary fights, flirting with women that others were already courting and with whom they were even already engaged. Anyway, what dignity could he lose if he didn't even have it anymore?

"It's being a terrible day, as you can't imagine. Of course I have to avoid people! I still hope that tomorrow I will wake up and find that this has all been a dream.”

“That won´t work, I've been waiting for that since I arrived at this mess of a novel.”

"What novel?"

“Nothing, nothing. I said that it´s strange that you´re not happy with the way the day has turned, considering that Miss Cornell has been kind enough to accept your marriage proposal.”

"Oh, that…" Patrick paused, as if he were evaluating which misfortune was greater. “I don't know what happened, nor do I want to know! I already told you, Owen, that I refuse to believe anything that happened today was real.”

"Has more than one thing happened?"

"You bet it did! And the bad completely overshadows all the good. So stop asking silly questions and walk faster, I want to lock myself in my room as soon as possible.”

"I thought you'd want to say goodnight to your fiancée first." Oscar suggested this just to prod him, knowing that it wasn't every day that you had the opportunity to harass a stalker.

"No, if I talk to Madeleine, she'll want to come up to my room. She´ll put her foot on the threshold and there will be no way to close the door without ripping off a member. And I've had enough trouble for today! I don't need a woman making a fuss around me.”

"You could also speak to the host or guests, aren't they waiting for you to return to the living room?"

"The last thing I want is to see the guests! Ramsey has terrible taste in choosing his friends… Except for me, of course.”

Oscar said nothing and pretended that Patrick was right. From what he deduced from this little conversation, the protagonist was seen in that office with some of the guests and had come out badly off the fight. Hence, he had no intention of fraternizing with any of them again in the immediate future.

The secondary stairs that led to the upper floors were located in a secluded place in Fairview, where only the servants used to pass or the occasional masters wanting to shorten the way to reach another's room in which, for decorum, it wasn´t convenient for them to be fished. Oscar didn´t like these stairs because they were narrow, dark, and with more steps than the ones that loomed across the hall.

He thought the best thing would be to ask Patrick to get off his back and let him climb himself, because even though the guy wasn't fat, they were both about the same height. So, although it might be worth it to cover a short course on the flat, climbing a few stairs with your own weight on your back was a somewhat complex challenge for Oscar. The inconvenient? Well, when he was going to point out his problem to Patrick, he felt he was already snoring near his ear.

Maybe he wouldn't have tried to wake him up if it were someone else. To be specific, he would not have tried if he were a respected family member or friend, thinking that he should make a sacrifice for the welfare of that person. Now, being that it was Patrick, Oscar had no qualms about talking to him, calling him by his name and even shaking him to wake the fuck up.

But none of that worked, the guy had chosen the best time to turn off. And Oscar couldn't just pick up and leave him out there, on some couch. Well, whoever saw him would try to wake him up, and the next morning — or earlier — Patrick would be furious for abandoning him in the middle of a hallway.

Thinking of such consequences, Oscar cursed under his breath and armed himself with patience. He would have to go upstairs with the bundle. Whether he liked it or not.

He had a hard time getting to the top floor, still feeling at all times how beautiful everything would have been if he could drop the protagonist, pretending it was an accident, and disregarding all responsibility. But, even if he didn't seem like it at times, Oscar had his ethics and principles. As much as someone unnerved him, he would not be able to cause him enough damage that he would stop breathing. Hence, he used those minutes to climb each step with great effort, walked the corridors of the wing where the male guests were staying and ignored the annoying murmurs of those servants he passed, who were unable to contain their laughter when they saw him, with one of the masters snoring in such a compromising position.

Either way, Oscar turned a deaf ear to the distractions and led Patrick into his room. As the latter didn´t seem to have any sign of awakening, since he must have really collapsed from exhaustion, indignation or previous scares, he simply threw him without any qualms on the bed. The springs of the cot complained, but the protagonist continued with his nasal concert as if nothing had happened.

Oscar thought that he could leave him like this, with his legs out of the bed and in a position that would give one to think the guy had just arrived from a drunk and threw himself on the mattress without paying too much attention to how he fell. But he had the same problem again. If Patrick woke up and looked like this, he could remember what happened that night and blame him for not taking proper care of him.

Even so, Oscar had no plans to position him well and tuck him under the covers, he was not anyone's babysitter!

What he did was limit himself to taking off his shoes, putting his legs up on the bed - since these were the only part of his body that protruded from the cot - and putting him in a position that more than a young man taking a nap, he looked like a dead man waiting to be placed inside the coffin. Then he took a blanket and covered him up. And let it be understood with "up to the top" that his face was also covered.

That was a momentary inspiration, so to speak. But Patrick must have been comfortable, because not even being covered like a corpse did he regain consciousness.

Having finished his business up there, Oscar quietly left the room. Then he proceeded to go where he should have gone in the first place: the room where Madeleine still stood with a couple of guests. This time, as he had the opportunity to walk around the house in the process of unloading a package in its corresponding warehouse, he found it right away.

He paused at the half-open door, from which voices could be heard, before deciding to do something. Should he ask permission and go in, or wait outside? Entering, interrupting the conversation to speak with the protagonist, was rude. But staying out could have even worse consequences, since he could hear everything that was said from within and, if they saw him waiting in a relaxed way, they might even think he was spying on them.

Not that it was his greatest illusion in life to break in, but in the end that's what he did.

Seated in the room, around a tea table, were both the protagonist and Mrs. Ramsey, Miss Bauer and a couple of bridesmaids, who must have belonged to either of those two. Oscar arrived at a bad time, when he set foot in the room he realized they were talking about men. Of a man, specifically, although Oscar could not grasp which one they were referring to, since he didn´t get to hear his name. But there was no doubt about it, since they spoke of him in singular.

"He´s now single again," Jane Bauer commented, "and I don't understand him. Wasn't he a successful businessman? Considering that his family has always run a thriving business, it would be logical that by now he´d have found a good woman with whom to share his prosperity.”

"He was always a thorough person," Cornelia Ramsey said, "I can say with complete confidence because we have known him for many years. Although he has been seeing someone, he´s one of those who think a lot about the next step to take.”

"I haven't spoken much with him, but he seems pretty decent… I suspect I'm not to his liking though!" Miss Bauer laughed, and as she approached, Oscar could see an irrepressible show of disgust on Mrs. Ramsey's face. “What do you say, Miss Cornell? Don't you think he could have postponed her wedding to get to know you better?”

“No way! I don't like that kind of person, no matter how powerful they are, they look very toxic. I am perfectly fine with Patrick!”

"Anyway," Mrs. Ramsey pointed out, "he wasn't always like this." There was a time when his family was narrowly broke.”

It was likely the hostess had explained about that matter, since Bauer was willing to continue asking, but Oscar caught up with them at that moment and there was no time or opportunity to go back. Apologizing for the interruption and claiming in his defense that he had knocked on the door before daring to enter, he asked permission to speak to Madeleine alone.

He believed that, busy as she was, she would object and meet him in another place and at a different time, downplaying whatever he had to say. Oscar had even thought of making an excuse to Patrick if she asked him about the reason for his predicament, imagining that that would be the only way Madeleine would leave the room at that moment. But there was no need to do that. The protagonist accompanied him without question to another empty room, leaving the two ladies alone, much to the displeasure of both.

"I thought you'd be reluctant to leave the room," Oscar let her know, already out of the range of those people. “It seemed like you were in the middle of a pretty lively debate.”

"They were, I wasn't! I wish interesting young men had come on the hunt and not those old magpies,” Madeleine complained, forgetting that it was not pretty for a lady to criticize her hostess and guests while she was still on her property. “The only thing Mrs. Ramsey knows how to do is make her hickory husband go through the roof, as if she didn't know that the little man apart from going hunting has no talent and all the goods he received he got them by inheritance. And then Ms. Bauer, you see that she is resentful cause doesn´t have a lover. She, well… She doesn´t stop hitting on all men, even daring to criticize those who have a commitment!”

"Ah, so she spoke ill of Patrick?"

“She says he´s one of those who are never ready for marriage, can you believe such stupidity? I'm sure she only said it to separate us and try to seduce him! I know very well what kind of person Miss Bauer is and why Mrs. Ramsey hates her.”

"But who's going to be so mad as to want to take your brand new fiancé from you?"

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“Right? Everyone knows we´re a couple! It would be disrespectful to even think of doing something along that line.”

Oscar asked the question in another way, a bit more offensive, but since Madeleine didn't quite grasp what he was thinking, he let it go. He didn´t come expressly to insult her. He could do that any other time, he wasn´t in a hurry.

"She even told me I shouldn't have said yes to Patrick so soon," she continued, "that I had to wait at least a few days to reconsider my options. It is seen that she doesn´t understand true love, because she never felt it! First she told me to try to meet James Foley, a lame bachelor who at lunch swallows more than he talks. Then she recommended Bill, his younger brother, the one with good manners but a reputation as a womanizer. I liked that a little more though, but not enough to allow me to pay more attention to him than my dear Patrick. And do you know what she told me then? She said to try the eldest son of the Ramseys then! You know who I'm telling you, right? The one that stuck with me since we arrived, with his excessive kindness and compliments”

“Well, he wasn´t a bad match, I understand that he is a respectful individual, with excellent manners and also intelligent. That aside, he's not into drugs or gambling. What do you see wrong?”

Oscar said this as if he had heard the wonders of Nathan Ramsey from the servants. But that wasn´t the case. If he knew his character so well, it was because that was the impression he had of him when reading the novel.

"He's too young for me! And I prefer them older, more mature.”

‘What do you mean is too young? He´s only one year older than you!’ Thought Oscar, exasperated. And if they were talking about mental age, even though Patrick was well past his twenties, his brain still seemed to be stuck at fifteen.

"Anyway, I'll give this back to you," Oscar said, finally handing the necklace to a puzzled Madeleine.

"What do you mean, you give it back to me? I thought you were wrong when you put it away and that's why it ended up in my suitcase again!”

"So it was you who brought it back to my room."

"Obviously, I couldn't entrust this task to anyone. Ah, but don't worry! Since I did it in the morning and they were all busy with hunting and lunch, no one saw me go into the men's room.” After a pause in which her face lit up, Madeleine inquired. “Does your return mean you have finally realized I no longer have any debt to you? I mean, since we are childhood friends, you adore me since childhood and therefore it wouldn´t be right to put me in a situation of need by taking gifts from me.”

“Of course not!”

"Now you're not being honest, I know that deep down you love me." Madeleine smiled, but didn´t try to return the jewel. “The thing is, you're too proud to admit it”

"Look, let's forget this necklace thing. Since that's something Patrick gave you...”

"And you can't bear to have something that someone other than you gave me, of course."

“Since it came from Patrick,” Oscar continued, swallowing his mounting anger, “it probably has no monetary value. In any case, we'd better check with the appraiser when we get back to Lilac Hall. Until then, it's safer for you to keep it. And if it happens that I was right, you better get used to the idea that you´ll have to pay me in cash.”

"Well, now I don't have to worry about that anymore, right? I've already gotten Patrick to agree to marry me, hence his granting me permission to access his bank account, there won't be much left.”

Sometimes Madeleine seemed stupid to Oscar. Others, like this one, a scary genius of manipulation. And it is, in part, because it was scary that he didn´t stay to continue talking with her. He said goodbye to her briefly, claiming he had business to attend to and couldn't stay to hear about more bedroom trouble. Well, the protagonist seemed determined to give him a detailed summary of all her advances with Patrick.

Not even a murder case in which everyone was a suspect, even the protagonists of the soap opera, deserved that he had to put up with such a spiel.

So he returned to the service area, already planning to retire to his room to sleep. Having ended the day, he didn´t believe the crime was going to occur. Maybe it happened in the happy hunt the next day, the one that Oscar was fervently hoping would never take place. Or perhaps, if the villain happened to go to the fields also on Sunday, no one would even die. Oscar didn't know for sure, nor was he paranoid about finding out. He believed it would be nice to be able to find out who the murderer really was, for his own safety within the play, but he also felt no moral obligation to catch him.

His character wasn't going to be a victim in that arc, so he could rest easy.

"Oscar!" Kenneth called him while passing through the dining room attached to the kitchens, where he had previously dined.

They had already cleared the dishes from the tables, but there was a small group of about fourteen or fifteen people still gathered around them. Both men and women were standing, or sitting, either on the chairs or on one of the two surfaces on which they ate. Before them were a handful of bottles and glasses, with a liquid inside that must have been some alcoholic beverage.

The only reason Kenneth spotted Oscar instantly was because he had been too close to the door, like keeping an eye out for anyone passing by. So Oscar deduced, instantly from seeing those bottles, that they had taken all that liquor without permission.

"Come drink with us!" Kenneth invited him.

"Where did you get that from?"

Oscar was suspicious, not only because of the possibility of getting into trouble with the Ramseys, but because, by focusing the play on Madeleine's point of view, he had no knowledge of what the servants did or did not do during certain parts of the plot. In other words, he was blind right now.

"It's not stolen, don't worry. They´re bottles that had some damage or were already half empty, so they could not be served again to the guests. And since we've had so many visitors today and we'll have them again tomorrow, well… Mr. Ramsey made sure the cupboard was full. I don't think they care if we empty a couple of bottles!” Seeing that Oscar doubted whether he would go into the room or not, Kenneth decided to give him a push; He put his arm around his shoulder and pushed him into the room, warning the others that a new guest would be joining them. “Hey, why is your shirt wet?” He asked, just after pulling away from him, looking down at his hand, as if it were stained from touching the wrong place.

“It´s not wet”

Not that Oscar had noticed, at least.

“It really is! Look, right there, on your right shoulder.”

Oscar touched the part of the fabric that Kenneth indicated to him, even trying to see what it was that he had, because, in effect, it was somewhat damp to the touch. But not that there was liquid on it of a distinguishable color.

“What happened?” Kenneth asked, noticing how the other went from a confused expression to another that he could imply anything but something good.

“Nothing”

Patrick had laid his head on that shoulder when he picked him up. And when he put him on the bed, he had noticed that a trickle of drool ran from the corner of his mouth, although he didn´t care at the time. Was it possible that this was…? Oscar was disgusted just thinking about it.

He stepped toward one of the tables, not because he was eager to drink, but because he felt that if he didn´t move forward, Kenneth would continue his questioning until he elicited him. And what would he say? He regretted entering the room as soon as he got close enough to see that what was inside the bottles was not wine, not whiskey, or any of the alcoholic beverages that he thought of. No. It was gin.

That brought back a rather unpleasant feeling of deja vu and, in the end, despite the fact that he chose to stay with these people who welcomed him with open arms, he didn´t taste a drop of what they offered him.

As soon as the gin was finished and people began to disperse, Oscar also returned to his room with his companions. He was tired and had already made up his mind that the next one, just because it was the second hunting day, would be a hard day. Therefore, he was determined to make the most of the hours of darkness to get as much sleep as he could.

He didn´t imagine that that precise night would be more difficult than the previous one to fall asleep.

It wasn't that he couldn't get used to the sounds of the night — see, Kenneth wasn't the only one who snored — and it's not that he wasn't able to digest he had to share a cot. That was also bearable, because spending the night back to back and without moving too much so as not to invade the space of the partner was like having a large and annoying pillow occupying half the bed. It took Oscar more than half an hour to get to sleep the first day, but then he slept through the night.

Tonight, however, as much as he tried, he couldn´t sleep. He didn't dare move too much either, for fear of waking Sean up, so he had to sit still and quiet for about two hours. It wasn't that his head couldn't go off for a while, it's that he felt his throat begin to hurt and, as time passed, the room seemed to be getting colder.

When he couldn't take it anymore, Oscar got up, intending to add an extra blanket at least for his side of the mattress. And, once he had it in place, he thought that, since he was standing up, he could go to the kitchen for a glass of water; that itching in his throat wasn´t normal and, perhaps, drinking a little could calm it.

Still in the dark, he pulled on his boots and lit a lamp. Which he took with him through the corridors, until he reached the kitchens, and made good use of it to illuminate the furniture that made up the aforementioned room.

It didn't take Oscar long to find the glasses, he just had to open a couple of cupboards to find them. He came to find, before these containers, the place where condiments, tea bags and even chocolate and pastries were kept. And he wondered, without having dared to put a finger on any of this, what would happen if someone caught him poking around in the middle of the night in a sacred place like the kitchen. Surely they would berate for it! But Oscar wasn´t here to stay, much less to steal, so he was calm.

He was lucky that this kitchen was modern and had a built-in sink, because that way he would save having to go outside, with which was still falling, to have to fight with a well.

Although, speaking of getting out, wasn't the door to the gardens open? Looking at it again, making the light from his lamp focus in that direction, he saw that it did. It´s not that someone had forgotten to lock it, which is also that the door remained ajar and the wind and some raindrops began to creep into the interior of the mansion because of this.

Oscar's first impulse was to close it, thinking that if a stronger blast of air came, the wood would hit, causing a great crash. But then, when he was near the doorknob, he thought better of it and decided not to touch it. What if someone else was in the kitchen or in the next room? He didn´t pass anyone, nor did he see any candles other than the one he carried with him. And yet the door was open. A door locked every night by someone in the Ramseys' service.

It was suspicious until saying enough.

Perhaps someone had forgotten to lock it, or perhaps the lock had been broken by the storm — although this was unlikely, from where Oscar looked at it, it appeared intact. But the most likely option was that someone had passed by recently. Someone who either left it open on purpose, or had no chance to close it. In any case, if there was a second person in the kitchens, it was clear that he didn´t want to be discovered.

Therefore, Oscar didn´t delay any longer. He pretended that he hadn't seen anything strange, filled his glass and left as fast as he could to his room.

He was cautious about returning, making sure no one was following him, and he was always on the lookout just in case he heard footsteps. But his precautions were not necessary, since no one went after him or tried to attack him, which he deeply appreciated. For a moment, even he came to think that it had been his imagination, that the thing about the door and the feeling of not being the only one among those four walls had been his paranoia.

But, what if...?

When he reached his room he didn't get into bed right away. After drinking a little, setting the glass on the dresser, and turning off the light, he went to the door. There, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, he listened. If someone was in the kitchens and wanted to move to another part of the house, he would have to do so by going through that corridor full of rooms. And when that happened, Oscar would be there to find out.

Ten or fifteen minutes passed without any sound outside, with his companions still in a deep sleep, Oscar was about to give up. In fact, he even got to his feet with the intention of going back to bed. But he stopped before taking a single step, recognizing the sound of footsteps from the other side of the wall.

It was obvious that he wouldn´t do something as reckless as open the door and try to catch a glimpse of the person who was walking around that wing at night, but staying awake listening would do two things: The first, to check that he was right when he supposed someone was in the kitchens. And, the second, trying to guess where that person was going.

From his steps, it could be deduced that the stranger was in a hurry, since he almost ran past Oscar's bedroom and didn´t stop, but continued walking to the end of the corridor, until his steps were lost and Oscar could no longer know what direction had taken. He didn´t hear him enter any room. His steps had been light, as if he was trying to make as little noise as possible. And, as if that wasn't enough, Oscar couldn't make out the light from any oil lamps through the small opening under his door. Ergo, that person was in the dark the entire time, as if he didn't want someone to discover him.

To be sure, if Dianne had written a crime novel, instead of a romance, now would have been the moment when the protagonist would leave her room and, regardless of the dangers she´d put herself through by acting without thinking, following the suspicious figure.

But this was not a police play and, fortunately, that fatal author had no power over the plot. Much less about her characters. So Oscar proceeded to go back to bed, thinking that whoever that person was, he wouldn't hurt him if he didn't proactively go after him.

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