Regrets: Part 2

“Who’s that?” I stopped briefly and pointed at a painted portrait hanging on the wall above. The person depicted was a soft-looking young lady with her hair curled delicately in braids on her head. She gave a slight smile, curious-looking, kind of like Mona Lisa. She was dressed in a white gown and wore simple jewelry but still managed to look dignified and royal.

“That’s Miss Madeline.” The butler’s eyes softened a bit when his eyes laid on the young lady’s face, to my surprise. It was actually endearing. And as soon as his expression came, it went. His face was solemn-looking as always. Did I just happen to imagine it?

“There was a family that lived here close to seventy years ago. She was the daughter of the housemaster.”

“You mean during World War II?” I inquired, interested.

“Yes, the master bought this place to keep his wife and daughter safe during the war. This town was well out of the way of any soldiers or troops back then. Even more so than now.”

“How do you know about that?” I know I shouldn’t ask him about his personals, but my curiosity was just too overwhelming.

The old man didn’t say anything. The obvious response.

“Then that,” I pointed to another portrait hanging on the opposite wall showing a middle-aged man wearing a stiff face and a dress shirt with a bowtie, “must be the Master, am I right?”

“Yes,” he continued, pretending like he’d never head the previous question I’d asked him ,”he was supposedly a rich Baron from England. Faced a lot of bad luck in his lifetime, though, bless his soul.”

“Wait… you said he had a wife too, right?” I swirled around on the step to find another painting but found nothing else but freshly-coated wallpaper. “Where is she? I don’t see her picture.”

“Madam died as soon as she came here, so had no chance to get a portrait taken.”

Shocked, I turned to Charles and repeated his words, ”She died…how?”

“In the mass epidemic. Now are we done?” He said with a bored face.

“Um, I guess so,” I gave in and sighed.

We continued walking up the old rickety stairs. Frankly, I was scared the boards would break out from under me so I walked gingerly and slowly to Charles’ annoyance. He gestured sharply at me from above me. That’s when I noticed a dark silhouette on the wall next to him. A shadow or an imprint of something rectangular that had been removed from the wall. Another painting.

“Charles, was there a painting there before?” I gazed at the dark residue of it, so completely empty, like an erasing of something unwanted.

“No.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand, almost too quickly. “Just a problem with the wallpaper. Come on, let’s get you to your room already. We’re idling too much.”

“Okay,” I said, unconvinced. It definitely was a missing painting. Charles was almost certainly hiding something more from me, and sooner or later, I’d get to the bottom of it.

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