Theo waited a few minutes before approaching the door and banging the brass knocker. Celia wouldn’t be pleased to see him, but he had to try; she was his only hope. He was led through a cavernous foyer, the soaring ceiling and flagstone floor reminiscent of a church, and into a receiving room. The house was very quiet, the ticking of a clock on the mantel the only sound in the room. There must have been numerous servants going about their tasks, but it felt as if the house was completely empty, devoid of any occupants. Dust motes twirled in the light flowing through the windows, settling on the heavy wooden furniture and tapestries decorating the walls. They seemed very old, just as everything else in the house did, their colors faded with time and the faces of the people almost indistinguishable. Theo suddenly felt a pang of pity for poor Celia. What must it be like to live in this tomb with a man who was as good as already dead? “I’m afraid you’ve missed my husband by mere moments,”
