Through the Looking Glass
by Lovesfox

Headers in Prologue


Part 12

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Diary of Liza MacGregor
September 24, 1896

The mirror hungers.  As my long denied revenge hungers.

Marie Rose has had many tragedies befall her in the years since 
her marriage.  Two babes stillborn, a like number of 
miscarriages, and a lingering weakness of the body and spirit.

It delights me, and fills me with a temporary satisfaction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Starbuck House
8:40 AM


Mulder a familiar and comfortable presence directly behind her, 
Scully pushed at the swinging doors and stepped through.  
Stopping just inside, she kept both hands up, preventing the 
doors from swinging back into her.  

A moment later, Mulder put his hand just beneath hers on one of 
the doors, murmuring, "Got it, Scully."  

The slatted wooden doors had opened onto a short, nondescript 
hallway that appeared to lead directly into the kitchen, for she 
could see the gleaming metal of a shelving unit with countertop, 
both surfaces laden with canisters and mixing bowls.  But she 
could not see Nancy, and made the assumption that the kitchen 
was actually to the right of the door-less entryway.

There was one closed door just to her immediate right, and a 
second, wider one just past it that had a long, rectangular-
shaped window running down the middle of it, and a handle 
instead of a traditional doorknob.  At roughly waist-height 
there was a small button that resembled a doorbell on the wall 
to the left of this second door. 

Scully lowered her arms and walked over, touching the button 
lightly before peering curiously into the window.  The area 
behind the glass was dark and she could make out nothing.

Just before she turned to ask Mulder what he thought, Nancy's 
voice said, "It's an elevator.  We had the dumbwaiter converted 
when my grandmother became wheelchair-bound back in 1977, after 
her stroke."

Straightening, Scully turned her head and watched the Innkeeper 
approach from the kitchen area, wiping her hands on a white 
dishtowel.

"The dumbwaiter hadn't been used in years," Nancy continued, 
"and it was easier to expand the existing shaft and less 
expensive than putting in an entirely new elevator shaft."  
Tucking the dishtowel into the waistband of her apron, she 
pulled on the door handle, sliding the door into a recess in 
the doorframe, which triggered an illumination device of some 
sort, and revealed a black, iron-cast folding cage door.  "It 
goes all the way up to the third floor, where the family's 
rooms are, with a stop at the second floor."  Shrugging 
slightly, she added, "Convenient for bringing the laundry up 
and down."

"Ever play in the dumbwaiter when you were a kid?" Mulder 
asked, utterly fascinated with the idea.  He had moved to 
stand beside Scully, his chest bumping her shoulder playfully, 
and now hooked his fingers in one of the diamond shapes of the 
cage as he leaned in, trying to look down the shaft.

Nancy gave him a quick grin, looking years younger for a brief 
moment.  "Of course," she replied, eyes sparkling with 
remembrance.  "It was a great place to hide.  My brother and 
I used to scare the guests all the time."  Her expression 
turned wistful then, and she looked away, clearly embarrassed.  

Shoulders lifting as she took a deep breath, Nancy met Mulder's 
gaze once more, jutting her chin towards the door next to the 
elevator.  "That door takes you to a small mudroom, with another 
exit from the house, which is also used for deliveries, and to 
two sets of stairs.  One leads down to the basement and our wine 
cellar and laundry room, and the other up to the third floor."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully, his demeanor belying the fact that 
he was eager to be on the move, excited that they were going to 
search the entire house.  "Do the stairs go to the attic as 
well?"

Scully, who had basically been ignored by the Innkeeper these 
last few minutes, and was using that opportunity to observe the 
woman, watched Nancy carefully.  Looking for any signs she was 
disturbed they were going to be searching the house, or at the 
mention of the attic.  But the woman remained placidly calm, 
not reacting in the slightest.  

"Mmmm, yes actually they do," Nancy replied.  "Though there is 
another door at the third floor landing.  It should be unlocked."

"Thank-you, Nancy," Mulder said then.  "We appreciate the 
opportunity to look at the house."

"You're welcome," the Innkeeper responded, her gaze encompassing 
them both this time.  "I'd only ask that you respect our privacy, 
and avoid the family rooms on the third floor.  My grandmother 
is a late riser, and I don't want her disturbed.  I can let you 
take a look at the rooms later this afternoon, if you don't mind?"  

At Mulder and Scully's quick nods of acceptance, she continued 
with, "And if you need anything, or have any further questions, 
don't hesitate to ask."  With a polite smile, Nancy turned away 
and started back towards the kitchen.

It was the opening he had been waiting for.  "Nancy," Mulder 
called, and when the woman had stopped and turned to face them 
once again, he continued with, "I've been considering doing a 
chapter on Starbuck House since hearing about the disappearances 
while in town yesterday.  Is there anything you can tell us about 
them?"

The Innkeeper's face went completely blank, and it was several 
seconds before she spoke, her voice tight, reverting to a more 
professional tone.  Her gaze held his only briefly, shifting to
a spot just over his shoulder as she replied, "Very little, I'm 
afraid, Mr. Mulder.  Yes, the...women were guests here at the 
Inn when they went missing, but no one here saw or heard a 
thing."  She frowned as she looked him in the eye once more.  
"The Police spoke to both John and myself, and my grandmother, 
and interviewed our employees and neighbors.  It was an 
unpleasant experience."

Her words echoed those of Essie from the night before, Scully 
realized, and sounded somewhat practiced.  As if the woman had 
told the same tale on other occasions, perhaps many times.  
Which was what Essie had remarked in closing.

Deciding not to press right now, Mulder nodded and shifted his 
stance, having caught Nancy's clearly deliberate usage of the 
title 'Mister' when she had spoken his name.  The friendly 
Innkeeper had another, colder side.  He had also noted the 
slight hesitation in her reply about the missing women.  

Whether from nerves or something else, he was unable to 
ascertain without questioning Nancy further, and filed the 
factoid away in his memory. 

"Well, we don't want to keep you any longer, so we'll get 
started," he commented.  "Thank-you again, Nancy."

Nancy bobbed her head once in a stiff nod, and left quickly, 
the stiffness apparent in her gait as well.

Scully quirked an eyebrow at Mulder but said nothing, getting 
a small shrug in response.  Turning, she stepped over to the 
door Nancy had indicated, and turned the plain and functional 
doorknob.

She stepped into the mudroom the Innkeeper had described, 
which was L-shaped, with the long side of the inverted L 
leading straight ahead to the door to the outside.  Noting the 
wooden clothes peg board by the door, she saw that there were 
two dark navy rain slickers hung from two of the five pegs.  
On the shelf above the pegs were various odds and ends, 
including a large, industrial strength flashlight, and beneath 
the coats, on a rubber mat, were two pairs of black rubber 
boots.  

Crossing the short distance to the door with its curtained 
window, Scully shifted the lacy material aside and peered out, 
spying a wooden wheelchair ramp, most likely the one Mulder 
had seen on his run the night before.  "Ramp," she murmured 
aloud.

Releasing the curtain, she turned and saw that Mulder had 
followed her into the mudroom, and was staring down at the 
boots on the rubber mat.  Joining him, she looked down to see 
that there was a small puddle of muddy water underneath the 
larger pair.  Reaching out, she touched each slicker one at a 
time, but both were dry.  When she glanced at Mulder, he said 
low-voiced, "Late night walk?"

She gave him a brief shrug and got a twist of his lips in 
response.  It was not concrete proof that the figure Mulder 
had seen last night had indeed been John Carrington, but it 
certainly led credence to his theory.

"Let's get a move on, Scully," Mulder said then, and moved 
around the corner of the L, to the side-by-side staircases.  
There was a light switch just inside the doorless frame of 
the first set, which he flicked, illuminating the one-step 
landing where one then turned to the right to descend the 
wooden staircase leading down to the basement-slash-wine 
cellar.  

He started down the stairs, the clumps of his boots 
accompanied by the creak of each wooden riser, and Scully 
followed. 

At the bottom of the stairs there were two options, after 
turning an immediate quick right.  The first was to head 
straight into a small room that Mulder discovered was the 
laundry area.  The second was to turn right once again, 
which the partners did, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim 
yellow light of the bare bulbs set in the unfinished ceiling.
 
After a few feet they reached what Nancy Carrington had 
called the wine cellar.  Against the concrete wall to their 
right were two six-feet high, oak wine racks that were only 
partially filled.  

Mulder pulled a bottle out, holding it up to peer at the 
label, which was that of a local winery.  He then lifted it 
in Scully's direction, quipping half-seriously, "Maybe we 
could finally have that wine and cheese party, Scully."

Scully flashed back to some years ago, and her offering of 
wine and cheese late one night in Mulder's motel room -- and 
of how he had left.  His refusal had stung at the time, even 
though deep down she had known it had been because of the 
case, because of his X-file.  

She rolled her eyes at him, and he chuckled and then slid the 
bottle back into its rounded slot.  

Continuing on a few more feet, he stopped and scanned the rest 
of the barely lit basement, noting vague shapes that resembled 
cloth-draped furniture in the far end.  Closer to them were 
several metal stock shelving units, loaded with supplies –- 
both bulk foodstuffs and cleaning materials and equipment.

Scully shivered a little, for the basement was damp and chilly, 
and rubbed her hands up and down her biceps to generate some 
warmth.  "I don't think we're going to find anything here, 
Mulder," she commented, turning in a slow circle, eyes scanning 
the bare walls of the back end of the basement.  Stopping, she 
caught his gaze and murmured teasingly, "No hidden tombs, or 
mass graves beneath three feet of solid concrete."

The stamp of her foot emphasized the solidness beneath them.

"You've dashed my hopes, Scully," Mulder returned with a mock-
pout.  "But I agree, there's nothing to see here."  He headed 
back towards her, loping past with an easy stride.  "Come on, 
partner, shake a leg."

With a small smile, she followed him up the wooden stairs to 
the mudroom landing, where he turned and started up the other 
staircase, covered in a functional black rubber runner.  Inst
ead of stopping at the second floor, he continued upward, 
causing her to say his name questioningly.

"The attic beckons, Scully," was all he said in response, 
tossing the words over his shoulder with a quick glance in 
her direction.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Diary of Liza MacGregor
July 12, 1898

Marie Rose has had a girl.  Healthy and strong, she has been 
named Esther Marie.

Looking at the child, I see only another means to my revenge.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Starbuck House
9:05 AM


At the third floor landing one could proceed through an open 
doorway to what Mulder presumed was the family quarters, or 
begin the trek upwards to the attic, through the door that 
was indeed unlocked, as Nancy had told them.

This set of stairs was far narrower than the others, and the 
way was dim despite the light bulb at the very top, which he 
had flicked on after opening the door.  He hustled up the 
wooden risers, hearing the tiny creaks as his partner's more 
sedate footsteps followed him.  

There was no door into the attic; the stairs entered directly 
into it, under one slanted side that was the roof.  

Once at the top, Mulder moved to stand well clear, shoulders 
hunched and head ducked slightly, and waited for Scully to 
join him.  He had turned his back however, for he had his 
Maglite flashlight out and on, resting just under his chin to 
illuminate his face eerily, mischievously hoping to scare a 
scream from her, like he had one Christmas night a few years 
back.  Strangely enough it had occurred in a house not unlike 
their current location.

"Mul-"

She'd barely started his name when he spun around to face her 
and barked out, "Boo!"

Her only reaction was the arch of one eyebrow.  Outwardly, 
anyway.  But inside, her heart was racing and her mouth had 
gone dry.  He'd gotten her good; she just wasn't going to give 
him the satisfaction of knowing that, not this time.  Or she'd 
never hear the end of it.  She was thankful she'd managed not 
to scream; like she had the Christmas Eve they had spent in 
the haunted house.  "Very funny, Mulder," she said dryly.  
"But we're here to search the attic, remember?"

Lowering the flashlight, he murmured with teasing intonation,
"Spoilsport."

Scully had discreetly pulled out heglite, and with a quick 
move flicked it on and flashed it into his eyes briefly and 
playfully.  He flinched, and she smiled.  "Gotcha," she said 
softly.

Grumbling, he flapped his hand at her.  "Get to work, Scully," 
he said, and followed the command with a smile to show he was 
teasing.  Aiming the Maglite down at the wooden-planked floor 
while his eyes adjusted, he then glanced up at the ceiling, 
slanted at both sides, and along the long wall to their right, 
opposite the stairs they had just climbed.

She watched as Mulder oriented himself, turning and pointing 
at the wall that had been behind him, a few feet away.  

"That's the back of the house," he said, and walked towards 
the far right corner, adding, "We can each work along one 
side to the front, okay?"

Scully hummed her agreement, and using her Maglite beam as a 
guide, carefully made her way to the near corner.  She noted 
that the floor was slightly dusty, but not so much that it was 
obvious no one ever came up, and also that the air was stale 
and musty.  It dragged a small cough from her lungs, and she 
had to breathe through her opened mouth for a bit until the 
urge to cough again had passed.

She encountered cobwebs in her corner, which was bare of 
anything but those tiny homes to spiders.  With a moue of 
distaste, she avoided them by scrunching her upper body down 
and quickly backing away.  Flicking a glance at Mulder, 
wondering if he had noticed her awkward dance from the spider 
webs, she saw that he was already halfway towards the front 
of the house, poking through some boxes piled against the wall. 

Making her way along the end wall, she stopped at the direct 
center where there was a small, round, ornamental window, and 
peered through it.  She was fairly certain this type of window 
was referred to as a 'widow's watch', although this particular 
one did not look over the sea; instead offering her a nice view 
of the Carrington's back property.

With nothing else to see, she moved on, skirting the staircase 
to start along the wall opposite Mulder.  There were several 
packing boxes stacked a few feet away and she scanned them 
quickly.  All were securely taped shut, and labeled with words 
such as 'Dishes' and 'Old Clothes'.  A series of small thuds 
pulled her from her search, and she turned her head to peer 
in Mulder's direction.

He was partly facing her, with his hands on his hips and a 
sheepish expression on his face.  "Hey, Scully," he called 
when he saw he had her attention, and waved her over.  "Come 
take a look at this."

Crossing to join him, she watched as her partner crouched on 
his heels in front of a battered wooden trunk that reminded 
her of a hope chest.  When she reached his side, he was in 
the process of opening the trunk, its hinges protesting with 
a loud squeak.  

"Mulder," she hissed, laying her hand on his shoulder and 
squeezing warningly.  "What are you doing?"

He shot her a glance.  "What does it look like, Scully?" he 
jibed, not hesitating.  "I'm investigating.  Remember the 'I' 
in FBI?"  At her look of disbelief, he jutted his chin at a 
few boxes piled haphazardly to his right and admitted, "I 
knocked those empty boxes over when I bumped into one, and 
saw this chest behind them."

"And you had to open it?" she continued, her tone bordering 
on sarcastic.

"Scully, Scully, Scully," he said mock-chidingly, shaking 
his head slowly.  "It's a known fact that all old houses 
with attics have hidden treasures, and that those treasures 
are always found in old trunks or chests."  

"If this were a horror movie or novel, certainly," Scully 
retorted tartly.  With a relenting sigh, she crouched down 
beside him.  "Show me some treasure, Mulder."

A sidelong glance and a waggle of his eyebrows preceded his 
smarmily delivered,  "I'll show you treasure, Scully."

Unconsciously, her gaze skimmed his body, lingering on his 
muscled thigh just inches from her.  Treasure, indeed.  Face 
flaming at her wayward thoughts, she quickly looked up again, 
to find that Mulder was peering inside the trunk, apparently 
unaware of her perusal, and not expecting a response to his 
flirtatious comment.  Relief replaced her embarrassment, 
relief that he had not witnessed her staring at his body.  
She turned her attention to the inside of the trunk Mulder 
was now rifling through.

It revealed little in the way of treasure, or at least the 
kind that would appeal to Mulder.  Instead it was filled 
with linens –- yellowed with age and lovingly hand-embroidered, 
strengthening Scully's belief that this was indeed someone's 
hope chest.

Scully held her tongue, but did arch one eyebrow at him before 
rising to her feet.

Mulder was disappointed, but realistic.  "We're not done yet, 
Scully," he reminded her as he also stood, a sweep of one hand 
encompassing the remainder of the attic.  "Lots more to search."

While Mulder puttered along the same wall, Scully found herself 
at the front of the house, once again standing before a round, 
ornamental window.  Stretching on tiptoe she attempted to look 
outside, and found the glass so grime-encrusted she could make 
out little beyond the gray of the sky and a blur of green that 
was the trees bordering the Carrington's property.

Flat-footed again, she turned slowly and contemplated the 
other window at the opposite end of the attic.  She recalled 
how easily she had been able to see through that one, and was 
curious.  Walking back along the length of the attic, she stared 
at the original window.  

It was now obvious that this one had been cleaned, or at least 
cleaned enough to allow the viewer a clear look through it.  She 
peered through it once more, and realized immediately that she 
had a perfect view of the secret gate.

"Scully!  I think I might have found something that qualifies 
as treasure."  

Mulder's excited voice pulled her from her contemplation of the 
Carrington's backyard, and she hurried to join him where he was 
crouched in the dark corner on his side of the wall.  Kneeling 
beside him, she did not look at what he had found yet, first 
telling him of her discovery about the window.  She reminded him 
of how suspicious and agitated Nancy Carrington had seemed when 
they had come inside after their late-night exploration of the 
woods.  

"Perhaps our walk didn't go unobserved," he remarked, pondering 
the very likely possibility that they were being spied on by 
either one or both of the Innkeepers.  Another interesting tidbit 
to file away, he told himself, and then turned their attention 
to another matter.  Pointing inside the second chest he had 
found, he said, "Voila."   

This trunk was very similar to the first one, though a little 
smaller and far more battered, and he had found it buried under 
armfuls of old overcoats and blankets.  Innocuous as the two 
items within appeared, the hairs on the back of his neck had 
risen when he had unwrapped the cloth they had been stored in.

Mulder's discovery rested on a faded cloth, lying in a removable 
tray from inside the small chest.  Scully knee-walked closer to 
the trunk and lifted each gingerly.  She examined them with 
delicacy, mindful of their fragile appearance.  

The first item was clearly a family bible, dating back to the 
early 1800's, and the second was a water-damaged diary written 
by a woman named Liza MacGregor.


***

End Part 12