To escape the dangers of wartime London, Millie has been sent away to Wickford Hall, but what lurks there is far more sinister than anything war might bring.
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THERE'S SOMETHING WICKED STALKING WICKFORD HALL...
As war rages on, Mildred Cunningham...
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The tour of the school didn't take very long as there wasn't much to see. Though the house itself was immense and sprawling, there were many areas of it that were off-limits to the students. Petra's tour consisted of Millie leading her around the parts of the ground floor that had been allocated for their school. The library was still the library—though the office had reclaimed one half—and the dining room was still where they ate their meals, but a few of the manor's other grand rooms had been transformed into their classrooms. They had once housed the new recruits to the Order of St Bride, but now they served the girls of Queen's Park while the nuns and nuns-in-training moved their activities elsewhere.
By the time they reached the makeshift chapel, Petra's eyes had already glazed over from boredom. Millie studied her, feeling awkward, as she reached to push open the door. She worried she was boring Petra. If she was too bored, that could be a reason for her to abandon Millie and run off in search of something—or someone—more interesting.
Millie opened the door, hoping that something exciting was waiting on the other side. There wasn't. The grand Drawing Room, despite its gilded moulding and a still-sparkling chandelier where the old family had once held glamorous parties, was bleak as the rest of the house. Despite the grandeur of the finishings, there was very little furniture—mostly simple wooden chairs—and what was there didn't really match. At the far end, in front of the rows of seating, a simple altar had been set up, draped in white cloth that matched the nun's habits. It was the fanciest piece in the room, and even then, it was plain.
"This is where we take service," Millie announced, stepping aside, her hope deflating as she revealed the room to her companion. "And have our assemblies."
Petra took half a step into the room to look around. Her blank eyes grazed across the room, and her freckled nose scrunched up, somehow even more unimpressed by it than anything that had come before. Millie rubbed her lips together. Surely this was the moment when Petra would declare her a bore and run off to find the other girls.
Instead, Petra looked back at her and asked: "Where do the nuns sleep?"
Millie blinked at her. "What?"
"The nuns," Petra repeated. "Where do they sleep?"
"W-Why? Does it matter?"
"I didn't see them come upstairs last night."
Millie shrugged. "I think they sleep in the basement, in the old servant quarters."
Petra's eyes sparked, her brows rising across her pale, flecked forehead. Finally, something of interest. "They have this whole house to themselves and they sleep in the basement?"
Millie shrugged again. "I-I think so. I've seen them go down the stairs at night."
"Are they just down there because we're here?"
"No, I think they sleep down there all the time." Millie had a vague memory of some mention of it, but it was hazy at best. "I think it's something about their vows. They can't live beyond their means. Austerity or something."
