The noise of conversation faded as they stepped through the arched doorway, leaving behind the tide of laughter and music that filled the grand salon. The shift in sound was almost physical—like stepping out of sunlight into the cool hush of a cathedral. Only the faint echo of a violin followed them, soft and dissolving, as the heavy velvet curtains fell back into place.
The corridor stretched ahead, long and half-lit. The candles here burned lower than in the main rooms, their flames tremulous in the draft that crept beneath the tall windows. Shadows pooled in the corners, mingling with gold light until the air itself seemed suspended between brilliance and dusk. The scent of wax, old paint, and faint cologne lingered like a memory.
