On the fourth floor, down the east wing, behind a painting, is a cupboard. It was first an airing cupboard and vestiges of that function remained in the husks of cotton bedsheets and dust furred towels that lined the shelves. After a parlor maid discovered its true nature it went into an immediate and steady decline that ended after the master of the house at that time installed a life size painting of his mistress over it. It is said that his wife left the next day for the continent and died of jealousy a mere fortnight after.

The airing cupboard was rediscovered a century or so afterwards when several halls were rearranged in preparation for the coming of the elevator. When the first visitor spotted the ancient door and cautiously pulled it open he was greeted with the unexpected scents of lavender and lye soap laid over a base tang of copper. The figure seated in the corner wore a peculiar Victorian nightdress. “Darling! You’ve been so long!” It’s arms closed tightly around him, locking him in place.