Rarity and Applejack proceeded to search the house room-by-room, beginning with the project room. The lamplight revealed it was a heavy roll-top desk with a tall hutch that had been moved to block the window. The roll-top had been locked down, but the lock hardware quickly succumbed to the precise magical manipulation of a handy bobby pin. There were, however, no photographs inside; merely a few financial records and draft letters that were destined never to be sent.
A survey of the living room turned up no meaningful secrets, though Rarity found a relatively recent photograph of Aunt Silver and Glory stashed in the drawer of a side table, its glass perhaps tellingly cracked. Applejack reported the basement dusty, full of cobwebs, and cluttered with sandbags, a sensible thing to have in a house prone to flooding. The accidental discovery that a few of the bags were actually full of caustic lime almost ended badly and discouraged further poking around, though Applejack declared she had seen enough to feel confident there were no photographs stored down there.
Up the creaking staircase, Rarity noticed that the second floor landing was missing two beautiful hoof-crafted wooden rocking chairs and a table she had long admired, likely already claimed and squirreled away by one of the slighted family members. Together, the mares searched the guest bath and bedroom. They agreed that the feather bed looked inviting and that there were absolutely no hidden photographs to be found.
“I suppose I shouldn't be too disappointed," Rarity said, standing at the threshold of the master bedroom. "There was no reasonable expectation that we would find anything."
"We still have this room left to check," Applejack said.
"Yes. I suppose this is it." Rarity gazed into the darkened room. "It feels so strange being here again. I used to spend hours in Aunt Silver's chambers when we would visit her at the cottage, after she left Ponyville. I learned right away that she had kept her relics from her life as a dancer here even while she lived with us. She had all those portraits and paintings downstairs, of course, but up here she still had a few of her gorgeous costumes, and I remember feeling utterly fabulous pretending to be out on the stage leaping and twirling for the crowds. And she had a dressing room fit for a star! Bright lamps and gilded mirrors, always a little tray of bonbons, and it seemed to me there was every sort of makeup a girl could imagine. For those visits, this was my Elysium.” She sighed deeply. “Until this morning I thought I would find her here, and we would celebrate one more Hearth’s Warming together. Instead, it's as though I'm chasing her ghost.”
“Let’s go on in,” Applejack prompted. Without waiting, she walked through the doorway and began turning on the lamps.
Inside, everything was in good order. Somepony—Cookie, Rarity guessed—had remade the bed with fresh linens. The floral quilt was turned down and the pillows were fluffed. A crocheted throw, one of innumerable examples Silver Belle had produced over the years, rested on an armchair upholstered in purple sateen. The walk-in closet was as capacious as Rarity remembered, and filled with a trove of decades worth of fashion. Unfortunately, the only surviving dance costume was moth-eaten and all the chiffon was badly frayed.
“Huh,” Applejack grunted. She had gone to examine the ensuite bath and the adjacent dressing room, and Rarity quickly tracked her down.
“What is it?” she asked excitedly. “Did you find something?”
“Sorry," Applejack replied. "Didn't mean to get your hopes up. It’s just that usually when you call somethin’ fit for a star, well, it is.”
Rarity looked past Applejack into a small, poorly lit space. There was a narrow wooden counter, painted gray and set in front of a framed wall mirror. A single sconce provided light. Two padded stools were set before the table, on which rested a decently-comprehensive makeup assortment and related accouterments. The selection, though, was less elaborate even than what Rarity traveled with. Unable to help herself, Rarity laughed; a harsh, solitary bark that echoed throughout the house. “Goodness,” she said. “This is a bit more modest than I recalled. It's been so many years since I played with Aunt Silver's makeup and danced in her clothes. I suppose I was young enough that every ordinary thing seemed very grand. Certainly I must have been much smaller to think this little room large!” She moved past Applejack, into the dressing room, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. "Perhaps all of my memories are as embellished and untrustworthy as these. Or perhaps my mind is already fading. All things fade with time, don’t they?”
"No," Applejack replied. "Not everything fades, Sugarcube.” She moved closer, and pressed her cheek against Rarity’s. "Some things do. A lot of the bad, thankfully, or we wouldn't be able to keep goin'. But not everything."
Rarity gently pulled away, and as she did she could feel her eyes welling. “Oh, Darling. I must seem like a lunatic, conscripting you to hunt for a phantom recollection of something impossible and inexplicable, and here my own memory is as tattered as Aunt Silver's old costumes. There does not need to be any great mystery. I'm sure my poor parents merely thought it odd that I would want to stay here. And it is odd! Aunt Silver only just passed away. What in the world am I doing?"
“Maybe you're just dealin’ with a hard time as well as anypony could,” Applejack replied. “Leastaways, that’s how I see it.”
“Am I? I don’t know. I don’t think I handled anything particularly well today. I haven't been giving you the attention you deserve. I ran away from my family problems. Glory is right to be upset about the inheritance mess, and if I am not able to resolve it in a way that makes everypony happy, it may tear my family apart. I'm embarrassed, frustrated, and exhausted."
“We're both tired,” Applejack said gently. “We've been goin' all day. Maybe we should just call it an early night and get some sleep. There'll be time to set things straight after we get some shut-eye.”
Rarity nodded gratefully. "Yes, I suppose so. We may as well unpack our things. I don't believe we will be leaving right away."
Bags were opened and unloaded, and the guest bedroom was thoroughly taken over in short order. After completing an abbreviated version of her nightly ritual, Rarity stood on her chosen side of the bed, watching Applejack dubiously eye the quilt and bedsheets.
"I don't know how to go about this," Applejack said. "Those covers are done up awful particular."
“You may take comfort in knowing that if there were ever to be a night on which I would not get persnickety about blankets, this would be that night. Do as you will. I intend to be asleep before I'm able to get worked up about anything.”
“Well, if it's alright with you then, I'll just hop on in,” Applejack said. Then she grinned, and in a half-whisper added, “Maybe tomorrow night I can manage to get you worked up about something.”
Rarity laughed lightly in spite of her tiredness. “Ooh,” she cooed. “Now I have at least one thing to look forward to on this trip.” Applejack winked, then pulled down the covers with her teeth and crawled into bed. Rarity avoided thinking about untucked corners as she shimmied in after, then magically turned off the lamps and slid her silk sleep mask over her eyes. A few minutes later, she was asleep.
It turned out to be a minor stroke of good fortune that the two mares had gone to bed so early, because Rarity was relatively well rested when sounds of movement on the floor below startled her awake. A quick touch confirmed that Applejack was still beside her, and any residual tiredness was instantly chased from her body by a flash flood of adrenaline. She was not afraid—what intruder could she and Applejack not deal with together?—but she was very cross about the likelihood of having to involve the local constabulary in her ongoing debacle of a family holiday.
“Applejack,” Rarity hissed, prodding her lover ungently in the back. “Somepony is downstairs.”
“I know,” Applejack whispered, keeping perfectly still. “Must be somepony with a key, because I didn’t hear ‘em break anything to get in. That, or it’s the Chimney Sprite come early.”
“Har, har,” Rarity whispered back. “You mean to suggest you've been lying here awake while we've been being burgled?”
“Not for long. I've just been tryin’ to make sure there ain’t a whole passel of ‘em down there. Far as I can tell by listenin', it’s just one pony.”
“And there's two of us. Let’s get the drop on them, shall we?” Rarity suggested.
“That ain’t gonna be easy once we set hooves to hardwood, not to mention all those creaky stairs. How’s your teleportation?”
“Har, har, again,” Rarity whispered. “This is serious!”
“Okay. Okay. I don’t suppose you feel recovered enough to try floatin’ me downstairs, then? I think our mystery guest is in the back of the house, so he wouldn’t see the glow.”
Rarity considered the idea. Certainly, she was magically capable. At this particular chemically-charged moment she felt she could raise the whole house off its foundation if she had to. The chief obstacle was the need for fine control in the predawn darkness. They could not very well maintain the element of surprise if they started turning lamps on, so she would have to maneuver a floating mare down a narrow staircase she could not see, all with a racing heart and a body that presently threatened to vibrate itself out from under the covers.
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “I think I can do it. Get up on the bed.”
Applejack extricated herself from the covers with more care than was her custom and stood up. "I'm ready," she whispered. "Just wish I'd thought to pack some good strong rope." A diffuse blue glow enveloped Applejack and slowly, carefully, she rose into the air. After a brief wobble and a quarter-length drift to the left, she remained hovering perfectly still.
"I can do this," Rarity whispered, as much for her own benefit as Applejack's. "Out the door, left into the hall, and quickly down the stairs. The business of apprehending will be up to you. Be careful!" Without further ado, she floated Applejack out through the open doorway, carefully turned her to face the proper direction, and began moving her down the hallway. Now she could not see and had to rely purely on memory—something that was proving far from perfect these days.
There. She could picture the second floor landing and the top of the staircase. Rarity was unwilling to risk bodily harm to Applejack by trying to lower her blindly over the edge of the high landing, so the stairs were the only option. She pictured their angle, the length, and the ceiling drop-down halfway to the bottom. A little further ...
Rarity heard the click of hooves on wood. A shout in the darkness: "Hold it right there, varmint!" A sound like a small explosion. A yelp of surprise, and a loud crash. Rarity flew out of bed and raced headlong down the stairs, her horn blazing brightly. She found Applejack standing at the bottom, rubbing her eyes with the side of one foreleg.
“He got away,” Applejack muttered. "Or she. I didn't see a durn thing. Blinded me the second I turned the corner into the hallway. I fell flat on my face while the rascal got by me and bolted out the back door. I’m okay now; just sorry I wasted that neat magic trick you pulled off."
“Forget about that. Thank Celestia that you're alright!" Rarity exclaimed. "I should have gone with you."
"Not your fault. It was a fine plan. Just came up a little short on the execution."
"I suppose at least we know it was a Unicorn," Rarity noted. She extinguished her hornlight and began turning on the lamps. "It must have been a flare spell that blinded you.”
“Nah.” Applejack shook her head. “You gettin' that metallic smell? I’m usually the one who ends up handlin’ the family photography, so I know what a burnt-up camera flashbulb smells like."
“A flashbulb!” Rarity repeated, settling on her haunches and throwing her forelegs up in exasperation. “That's absurd. What sort of burglar breaks in to take pictures?”
“I have no idea." Applejack shook her head. "But I have to admit, Rare, this trip has been anything but boring so far."
"Would that it could have been," Rarity grumbled. "Really, this is getting ridiculous. On top of everything else, are we to play amateur detectives?"
"Um. Aren't we?" Applejack asked.
"Of course we are," Rarity replied. "That was more-or-less rhetorical. At the very least we should have a look around before we talk to the police."
"It's barely five o'clock," Applejack noted. "Gonna be another long, cold day."
"Yes. Happy Hearth's Warming Eve, Darling." Rarity sighed. "I admit a part of me is prepared to accept the inheritance, cash out of my business, and spend the rest of my days hiding out from my family in a resort somewhere warm and far away. I hope you will visit me, but you cannot tell anypony else where I've gone. It's hard to believe, but even I have a limit when it comes to drama. No more, I beg. I would like to enjoy a little peace!"
Before Applejack could respond, both mares jumped at the sound of a gentle rapping at the front door.
"Oh, come on!" Rarity exclaimed.