By the end of the first week, Rebecca knew the house the way she knew her own small apartment. Not just where things were, but how they felt: the way the third step on the staircase creaked slightly if you stepped on the left side, the way the morning light moved through the sitting room, starting at the bookshelf and slowly crossing the floor until it reached the far wall by midmorning, the way the whole house went very still between 1:00 and 2:00 when Mr. Caleb ate lunch alone and the hallway clock seemed to tick a little louder.
She learned his rhythms too, the way Grace had warned her she would need to. He was always in his study by 6:00 in the morning. He did not like to be interrupted before 9:00 unless it was urgent. He ate quietly and quickly, without ceremony. He moved through the house with purpose, never wandering, never idle, as if he had decided where he was going before he stood up.