The Perfect Bride - By Kerry Connor Page 0,3

almost a year ago and most days it still catches me by surprise that we actually own something like this. It’s hard to believe a place like this even exists anymore as it is.”

“Did you come here much before you inherited it?”

“Never,” Meredith admitted. “We didn’t know it existed. The last owner was a distant relative we’d never heard of. He didn’t have any other relations, so the place fell to us. The whole thing was pretty amazing.”

Jillian had to agree. Inheriting a place like this from an unknown relative was pretty incredible, and so was the place itself. Still, as she took it in from this angle, a sense of foreboding washed over her, sending her heart pounding faster. From a distance, with the sunlight shining down upon it, the massive structure had appeared majestic and regal. Standing this close, peering up at the building, it looked different. Gloomy. Oppressive. There were so many corners the sunlight didn’t touch or that had long shadows cast upon them, the windows a thousand hooded eyes staring back at her. The house suddenly seemed as sinister as Jillian had thought it would be...and seen in her nightmares.

She wanted to believe she was just imagining things, projecting her own feelings on the building. She couldn’t quite manage it, as a chill slowly rolled down her spine.

Meredith fluttered a hand, drawing Jillian’s attention back to her. “Anyway, come in, come in. You’ve had a long trip. I’m sure you’d like to get settled in.”

“Should I move the car?” Jillian asked.

“Just give me your keys and I’ll have someone take care of that and get your bags for you.”

The woman held out her hand for the keys. Jillian hesitated for a split second, suddenly unsure whether she wanted to be separated from her only means of escape from the place, the isolation and distance from the closest town hitting her. Still, there was no reasonable way to turn down the offer. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, she dropped the keys in Meredith’s palm.

If the woman noticed Jillian’s hesitation, she didn’t show it, her expression never changing as she gestured for Jillian to precede her inside. “Please.”

Pushing aside the last of her misgivings, Jillian worked up a smile and stepped through the entryway.

She’d barely made it over the threshold when she came to a stop, overwhelmed by the sight that met her eyes. Before her was a massive foyer that seemed to rise a full two stories. At the other end of the space stood a wide staircase that split in two halfway up and curved upward in either direction to reach the next level. A large glass chandelier suspended in the center of the room glowed golden beams downward. High archways on the sides offered tantalizing glimpses of the rooms and hallways beyond.

For a moment, Jillian’s suspicions and her wariness of the place faded away, overshadowed by the reality before her. It really was magnificent, the kind of place it was hard to believe existed, as Meredith had said, or that she would ever find herself in.

“Takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” Meredith murmured, stepping up beside her.

“It really does.”

As she continued to take it all in, a woman entered from the left and came to stand in the center of the foyer, folding her hands in front of herself as though waiting to greet them.

Meredith automatically moved forward, leaving Jillian to do the same a moment later. “Jillian, this is Grace Bentley, our head of housekeeping here, though that title doesn’t begin to cover what she does. Grace has been here at Sutton Hall for almost thirty years and has been in charge for most of that time. She knows the place like the back of her hand, far better than I do, and she’ll be able to help you with any questions you might have, any logistical issues in terms of locations for wedding events, that sort of thing.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace,” Jillian said.

“Likewise,” the woman returned with almost imperial formalness. “If there’s anything you require, please let me know.”

The words were polite, but there was no real warmth in them, and Grace Bentley didn’t seem particularly welcoming, giving off a distinctly chilly air. She was a tall, thin woman in her fifties, dressed in a plain black dress, her dark hair tied back in a rather severe twist. She smiled faintly when she made the offer, her face a carefully composed mask that revealed nothing.

“Why don’t I show