He pushed the door open with his fingertips. The heavy curtains were drawn shut, and it was completely dark inside, but it didn't matter. He could see perfectly.
It could be nobody's room but her's.
It was such a small room, and so full of things that he was almost overwhelmed. The walls were covered with a flowered wallpaper so busy that it was dizzying. Picture's and photograph's were tacked up all along the wall. He was surprised to find that he recognized some of them. These were- these were pictures of the Russian royal family weren't they? They stood, the dusty and forgotten, in what appeared to be their original frames.
Jeweled and golden things were scattered about the room like playthings instead of priceless treasures. There was a giant egg decorated in gems and pearls lying on the bed, and when he opened it, four little portraits rose from the interior. He closed the egg and went to the closet.
Yes, any doubts of this being her room were permanently dispelled. He nearly laughed. Her wardrobe was filled with clothes in her signature style. Patterned sweaters and pretty skirts and blouses. A basket filled with stockings. A few pairs of shorts. Nothing modern, no jeans, no trousers. There was a pair of lederhosen, well worn and embroidered with flowers. But they were play clothes. He knew now she liked to play out in the woods, running amok amongst a sea of moss and fern.
There was a trunk at the foot of the bed, and he opened that as well. Curiosity taking over, he bent down to look through it. Dress-up clothes. Lace tea dresses for a grown woman, so old that the lace had yellowed. Another jeweled thing, a sparkling crown with real diamonds. Long silk opera gloves. A beaver skin stop hat. He remembered these. He felt for the catch on the inside and it popped up with a dusty 'whomph.' He pushed the top flat again. A little girl's treasure chest.
There were books scattered across the floor. Alice in Wonderland. Peter and Wendy. Ozma of Oz. He read the titles as he stepped over them. There was a little china tea set laid out for four, little toys propped up and an empty place where Jane might have sat.
Her whole life was in here.
But what things would she want? He could bring it all back to her if she wanted it. But what if she didn't? And then the other danger, would it bring back any memories? Would she see something, and suddenly remember it's history?
He decided to take the clothes and the trunk. He took her clothes from the closet and put them in on top of the play clothes. He was anxious to leave, it stank terribly. The whole house reeked of them. It put him on edge.
Deliberating for a moment, he wrapped the gilded egg in a sweater and put that into the trunk as well. A book from the floor, he didn't see which one. And a doll from the bed. He lifted the trunk easily, it weighed nothing to him, and left.