“And I can trust you?”
“You can trust me.” Four words, and I hope they’re true. For now, I mean them with all my heart, and I meet his gaze openly, guilelessly.
“Good.”
He appears satisfied, but he doesn’t touch me again, except for a brush of his fingertips against my palm when he hands over the keys. I meander through the game parlor while he packs his bag, and then we descend to the entry hall, where he bids me goodbye and blows me a kiss.
I follow him to the front door and stand on the steps, watching him mount his horse and depart. His farewell was unsatisfying. There was no intimacy in it, no final passionate kiss, no protestations of how much he’ll miss me.
He’s leaving his new wife alone in this mansion, not even one week after the wedding. He won’t say where he’s going. Does he have another wife somewhere, another family? Is his business something terrible? Piracy, thievery, slavery? Maybe hetrades in banned substances, like addictive powders and pills. Maybe that’s what is hidden behind the blue door.
I try not to think about it—really, I do. I return to the little safe behind the painting and extract some money, and I speak with Mrs. Nanterre about having a dinner party the following night. Then I send one of the footmen to fetch my mother and my sister for a visit.
Anne arrives alone and lets me know that Mama is watching Essienne’s children, one of whom is ill.
“She doesn’t have to take jobs like that anymore,” I tell my sister. “Beresford and I can provide for you both.”
“That’s sweet of you.” Anne squeezes my arm fondly. “But Sybil, we’re going to want to make our own money, too. Work isn’t just a burden, it’s a privilege. I enjoy the sense of purpose and accomplishment I get from it, and I’ll enjoy it even more now that we don’t have to worry about surviving.”
I understand her point, and I can see how, after a time, life in this mansion could be dull without some sort of productive work to do. Once I’ve had a few weeks of relaxation and indulgence, I’ll need to find something to occupy my time—something that contributes beneficially to the world.
“I know what you mean,” I admit. “But let’s not talk about work right now. Come inside. I want to show youeverything.”
My sister and I run up the stairs and through the halls, hand in hand. We test every plush armchair, fling ourselves onto every bed, twirl through every doorway. Despite the gray autumn sky, we are both in the highest of spirits. We drink Beresford’s wine, eat his food, read his books, and play his games all day, until at last, full of a good warm supper, Anne announces with a satisfied groan that she should be heading home.
“The servants have already gone to their house,” I protest. “I don’t want to bother one of them to take you home. Why not stay the night?”
“Mama is probably back by now. She’ll be wondering where I am. I don’t want to leave her alone in the house overnight.”
Something in the way she says it alarms me, and I sit upright on the library sofa. “Has something happened?”
“Over the past few days, things have been creeping out of Wormsloe,” Anne admits. “The creatures you summoned—they’re leaving the forest, scattering into gardens, orchards, and other nearby forests. It’s almost as if they’re running away from something. Like something is driving them out.”
“Have you seen it? Do you know what’s frightening them?”
She shakes her head. “But we’ve felt things.”
“Felt?” I frown. “What do you mean?”
Anne gazes into the fire, the dancing flames reflected in her eyes. “It’s not really a sound or a vision so much as a presence. Just the past day or two, really. At first it wasn’t noticeable from the house… you could only sense it from the road. But this morning I felt it in the front garden. I think it’s getting closer. Spreading outward.”
Her tone is brittle, hollow, a faint singsong like she’s talking to herself, like she barely knows I’m here. I reach over the arm of the sofa and grab her hand where it lies limply on the arm of her chair. She startles a little and glances over at me.
“Anne, do you need me to come home?”
“You can’t.” She gives me a weak smile. “You’re married now. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be all right. We’ve weathered plenty of odd events, haven’t we? This one will pass as well. And perhaps it’s only the strangeness of your absence. Perhaps we’re imagining it.”
“The demons leaving, though… that’s not your imagination,” I point out.
“No, but it could be a natural event, especially with winter coming on and food being scarce. Maybe they can sense that theweather will be more severe or something, and they’re migrating in anticipation of that.”
Her theory doesn’t really make sense, but I have no better ideas to offer, so I leave it be. “I’ll go to the servants’ house and ask a couple of the men to take you home,” I tell her. “I’ll ask them to check the house and garden, too, and make sure everything is safe. Tomorrow I’ll commission new fencing and gates, and extra locks for the doors.”
If Anne is right, and there is some malevolent presence leaking out of the woods, fences and locks won’t provide much protection. But the idea seems to reassure her.
I send her off with two footmen and return to the dark, gloomy hallways of my enormous house. All the fires have gone out except for the ones in the library and in my bedroom, and those have been banked up for the night.
I prepare for bed, but I don’t feel tired. Another glass of wine would probably send me off to sleep, but I’m too restless to sit down and drink it. I stand on the rug before the bedroom fire, clad in my lacy nightgown, holding the ring of keys in my hand, watching the light play over gold, bronze, iron, and silver.
