The music. That’s it.
The food, the drink, the atmosphere... It was intoxicating. Clouding her judgement and her mind. He was being kind, and friendly, and she...was once again making mountains out of nothing and letting her feelings run away with her. It meant nothing that he was here, now, with them.
Rebecca drew a deep breath, and focused again on Tim’s fiddling. Only then, she realised the tune had changed, and that Gregory had returned to his seat. Lizzie stood beside Tim now, breathtaking and haunting as she sang the ‘Coventry Carol’.
Rebecca felt the harsh sting of tears at the back of her eyes, but found she could not move to wipe them away. She could not wrench herself from the scene before her, the melody permeating every fibre of her being, resonating chords within her she had long forgotten existed. The purity, the beauty, filled her heart to the brim and stole her breath. And then, when she thought it might be impossible to feel anything more, she felt the faintest of touches against the little finger of her right hand.
Him.
Liam.
His own little finger almost imperceptibly there, against hers, their hands linked by the slightest of touches. Had anyone looked over, they wouldn’t have seen it, seen the connection, and yet to Rebecca it felt as though his entire body had wrapped itself with hers, as though they’d joined together in some pagan, magical, forgotten way.
She knew she should move, tear herself away, and yet she couldn’t. She didn’t understand it, and she did not want to. She only wanted to feel it, to feelhim. To believe for the smallest of moments that he was hers, and she his, in a world beyond this one. For that moment they lived together, beyond time, beyond convention, beyond rules, somewhere only the other existed. Where their heartbeats kept in time with the music as one.
Sorrow, and a profound feeling of loss mixed with the elation she’d felt moments before, for she knew well that the magic could not, and would not last. That soon it would be stolen, and then she would spend years trying to understand it, without hope of ever doing so.
Lizzie finished the carol and was met by an enthusiastic round of applause. All at once the connection shattered; the moment faded into something of a distant memory.
Had it really happened at all?
Rebecca decided that it hadn’t. Coming back sharply to the room, she rose and excused herself.
When she returned minutes later, mostly herself again, she was glad to discover that Tim had returned to more spirited, lively tunes. Before long the table and chairs were pushed to the corners of the hall and everyone was on their feet dancing.
Rebecca avoided Liam; and he her. Though that prevented neither of them from enjoying the rest of the night as much as any of the others.
It was close to midnight when the drinks stopped flowing, the music died, and everyone began wandering off to bed, feet sore and hearts full. They left Mrs Murray sleeping in her chair by the fire. No one really had it in them to rouse her, and besides, it would be neither the first nor the last time she slept there.
Soon all that was left in the servants’ hall were the remnants of the evening’s festivities, and a snoring cook.
Half an hour later, Rebecca was certain she was the only one in Thornhallow still awake. She had volunteered to close the house for the night, acutely aware that sleep would not be easy to come by. Some quiet time alone, and the ritual of locking up, might help her find some normality and peace of mind again.
It wasn’t only that which had passed with Liam—that which she remained intent on convincing herself hadn’t happened at all—it was all the rest that was troubling her. The whole day, indeed everything about her life at Thornhallow. Over the years, she’d lived in many homes, met many different people, shared many celebrations, but somehow it all felt so different here.
Unique. Rare.
She hadn’t spent such a wonderful time, felt loved and cherished, and part of a family, in, well...twenty years. Nearly her entire life. Her father had tried so hard to give her that, and hehad, but when he’d been taken... Well, everything had changed. Over the years she had purposefully and instinctively kept her distance from those she served and worked with. Even from those she took to bed.
Liam had been right about that. She’d passed through life alone in a sea full of people. Always knowing she would leave, that she need only rely on herself, had helped keep her safe in more ways than one.
Rebecca sighed heavily as she checked the door and window latches in the dining room, and closed the curtains on the moonlit frozen landscape. She’d done well convincing herself that the life she lived, that she’d built, was enough. Coming here... She’d realised just how wrong she had been. Thornhallow felt like home.
Familiar. Safe.
And everyone here, despite difficult beginnings, had become like family. Perhaps it was the circumstances, the lack of constraints of a normal household, which made it easier to grow close. Whatever it was, they’d all managed to insinuate themselves into her heart, and Rebecca dreaded even more now the day that would take her from Thornhallow.
But you know full well the day will come, Rebecca... He will never stop hunting you.
Pulling the curtains in Liam’s study closed with more vehemence than she meant to, she knew that no matter how she wished it otherwise, she would have to resign herself to the fact that she would leave Thornhallow. No matter how delightful, how wonderful today had been, in the coming weeks she would need to take care to regain some distance from, well, everything.
Yes. You know the rules Rebecca. Chin up, she thought, pushing open the door to the library with purpose and confidence.
‘Devil, Miss Merrickson, are you trying to frighten me to death?’ Liam exclaimed from the other side of the room, jumping nearly as high as Rebecca. ‘Whatever did that door do to you?’
‘Apologies, my lord,’ Rebecca said, trying to calm herself. ‘I thought everyone in bed.’
‘So you decided to come lurking in the library again?’
