Zerina's point of view

Mr. Wilson smiled faintly, perhaps sensing the tension that hung in the air. He cleared his throat softly and clasped his gloved hands together. "Please do not let my words trouble your mind, Miss Bradford," he said in that calm, distinguished British tone that made every word sound like a poetry. "Old houses tend to carry old stories, and sometimes, those stories grow larger than truth itself." His lips lifted slightly as he bowed. "If you'll excuse me, I shall see to ...