“Look at me.” He pleaded once more, desperation running through him now. At last, she did. But when she turned, Daniel stumbled backwards and into the wall. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. Before him was not Penelope at all. Instead, he was face-to-face for the first time in more than ten years with—
“Mama?”
She looked at him in silence. She was young and beautiful—just as he remembered her. Her lips were heart-shaped, similar to his own, her face pale and her eyes a stark sapphire blue.
He reached his hand out to her and to his delight, she reached for him, too. A moment later she stepped forward and their hands almost touched when suddenly she stumbled and fell forward. A crash broke the silence, and a moment later he saw her before him on the floor, blood covering the area around her.
“Mama!” He screamed, screamed as loud as he had when he was a boy unable to wake himself from his nightmares, night after night.
“Daniel!” Someone grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him in so violent a manner that he had no choice but to stop screaming. “Wake up!” the voice commanded. “Open your eyes!”
It was only then that he realized his eyes had been closed this entire time. He forced them open and gasped, sitting upright and pushing himself against the headboard of his large bed.
“You had another dream. A bad one by the sounds of it. I could hear you screaming on the other side of the door. It is only fortunate that I happened to be on my way to look in on you anyhow and heard you hollering in your sleep.”
“Alistair?” His head was hazy as his mind adjusted from being in a state of sleep to being here, in the world once more.
“I have not had opportunity to take in my reflection in some time, but yes, I can state with some certainty that I am indeed still Alistair Mavis.”
His friend sat on the edge of the bed and stared at him. It wasn’t until then that Daniel noticed the bags under Alistair’s eyes, as though he’d had as little sleep as Daniel these past few days.
“You look vexed,” he said.
“Given the fact that my dearest friend has been refusing to so much as leave his bed—let alone his chamber—for days now, I would imagine I’m permitted to look a little vexed.”
Three days. Had it really been three days since the events at the Harvest Festival? Surely not. But then again, he could hardly remember anything that happened at the Festival beyond the obvious.
“It frightens me when you are in such a state. I’ve had a mind to summon my mother.”
Daniel’s eyes grew wide. “Your mother? You did not, did you? I would not wish to worry her.”
Alistair’s shoulder dropped, but he shook his head. “I did not. I would have liked to, but you are right. She worries far too much about all of us as it is. However, I have written a letter to my father and sent it via messenger. He replied, but not to me. To you.” He nodded with his chin toward the armoire beside the bed where a letter was waiting.
“Words of advice, I am sure. He always knows just what to say, even though he says so little.”
“Perhaps we do not need many words, if they are the right ones,” Daniel mused.
“Ever the poet, Daniel.” Alistair licked his lips and blinked before speaking again. “You have been dreaming of Penelope.” It was not a question, but an observation. “You said her name. Not for the first time. Also, Bridget’s. Her father was here to call on you.”
Daniel groaned. “He was? What about the Duke?”
Alistair shook his head. “He has not left Branigan Manor, as far as I can gather.”
Daniel closed his eyes. His bones were hurting him from being in bed for so long and he stretched. Light drifted in from outside and he wondered what time it was. Or what day. He’d been determined to leave for London the morning after the Harvest Festival but upon waking, found himself utterly unable to move even an inch. Rising from the bed was an impossibility and thus he’d remained where he was, awake and miserable.
This was, of course, not the first time he was overcome by such misery. These were frequent events when he was a child at Eton and even as an adult at times that the melancholy overcame him. Alistair had seen him in such a state several times and it greatly alarmed him. However, there was little Daniel could do to bring himself out of such a mood. Hearing that Mr. Hughes was calling on him did nothing to motivate him.
Alas, he could hardly remain here forever, much as he might wish he could. There was one matter which pressed upon his conscience more than anything else.
“What of Penelope? Have you seen her at all?”
Alistair shook his head. “I have not. Truth be told, I’ve hardly left the estate for worry about you, old chum. Alas… I have heard rumors. There has been much talk.”
Daniel frowned. “Talk? Such as?”
Alistair shifted in his seat. “As expected, the kiss at the Festival caused rather a lot of talk. And I’m afraid as the story has made its way from person to person, farm to farm, and village to village, the tale has grown, shall we say, extravagant. Much more scandalous than it really was.”
Daniel sighed as he was aware their kiss, blurry as the memory of it was, was scandalous in and of itself. He could only imagine what tale the minds of the townspeople had come up with.
