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 stares pressed into Millie from every angleas she moved through the crowd. She had to fight against the current of people, all going in the opposite direction. Girls muttered under their breath as she bumped into them, nuns tutted as she hurried past, and even the soaring classical paintings affixed to the walls seemed to glower down at her.
"Mildred," a sharp voice called to her.
Millie froze and turned.
Sister Marion was staring at her from her spot at the wall as she watched over the flow of students.
"Shouldn't you be going to the dining hall with the others?" she asked, her thin, sparse brows rising across her wrinkled brow.
Millie cringed. She hated meal times at Wickford—she never had anyone to sit with and the food wasn't exactly appetising. She missed her mother's cooking.
"I will, in a moment. I just need to do something first," Millie said.
She didn't wait for the nun's response before disappearing back into the crowd.
Finally, the surge of students reached its end, and Millie stepped out into the foyer of the manor house. The grand door that led outside loomed over her. For half a second, Millie debated heading outside and fleeing this place, leaving this horrible house behind to find her way back to London. But it was impossible. Even if she ran, she wouldn't get far—the grounds were sprawling, the weather bitter, and the village was miles away.
Instead, she took a right into the manor's office.
The office was once part of the library but had since been closed off and divided by the nuns to be used for the administration of the Order's affairs. The front part was narrow and open, split by a long desk and manned by a willowy woman with half-moon spectacles—the school's secretary. Behind her was a narrow hall that led to the private offices. A row of chairs lined one wall while the other had been made into cubbies for delivering the girl's mail.
Millie approached the cubbies, scanning them as she looked for her own. The mail had clearly been delivered earlier that day. Most of the cubbies were stuffed with mementoes and letters and little care packages from back home...
But not hers—hers was empty.
Again.
Millie's shoulders sank. She sighed, her lip trembling as she stared at the empty space labelled M. CUNNINGHAM. It had been weeks since she had gotten word from her family. She wondered if her parents and sister had somehow forgotten about her.
Or worse, if something had happened to them.
"Don't fret, dear."
Millie looked up. The secretary was watching her.
"The war has interrupted all sorts of things," the secretary continued, her gaze gentle as she peered at her over the edge of her spectacles. "I'm sure your mail is just delayed."
