She felt a tap on her arm. “Louisa, dearest,” Jane said, “we really should be going, or I fear you’ll be driving back to Northcott in the dark.”
“Very well.” She smiled at the young man. “It was pleasure meeting you, Tom.”
He bobbed his head. “You too, ma’am.”
She moved away and touched Jane on the shoulder. “May I take a minute before we leave?” she asked, glancing over to where Maxwell and Charles stood waiting.
Jane, understanding the request, nodded. “Through the door, turn left, and go to the very end of the corridor. It’s the blue door. Shall I come with you?”
Louisa shook her head. “No, I won’t be long.”
She entered the house again and paused for a moment, absorbing the silence, aware of the sudden thud of her heart. A peculiar feeling took hold of her, a strange sensation that set her nerves tingling and left her slightly breathless. Perhaps she’d had too much sun, she thought, as she made her way to the end of the hallway. Though she wore a bonnet and made use of her parasol, it had been a warm day and she’d been outside for much of it.
As before, many of the doors along the hallway were open, each leading to a small dormitory that held three or four beds.Currently, since most of the residents were outside, she knew the majority of the rooms were empty. And even if they weren’t, she been assured she had nothing to fear.
She found the blue door with no trouble. A short while later, refreshed, and with her heart beating a little less frantically, she prepared to head back outside.
As she wandered along the corridor, a strange clatter from one of the rooms caught her attention. She halted by the door, which stood slightly ajar, and peeked around it. The room contained three beds, all neatly made, and was empty apart from a solitary man seated, in profile, at a small table by the window. The light behind him carved out his silhouette, obscuring detail. Still, Louisa could tell he was of thin build and apparently in possession of all his limbs. She wondered at his disability. He could obviously see, since he appeared to be arranging a set of dominoes atop the table, though the movements of his hands appeared a little clumsy. The clatter, Louisa realized, had been caused by several of the domino tiles tumbling to the floor, where they still lay. The man showed no apparent interest in retrieving them.
Strangely fascinated, Louisa continued to watch, but remained hesitant to enter the room unaccompanied. Since she could discern no visible disability, she feared he might be mentally compromised. Then Charles’ assurance came back to her.
“…there’s not a single man here who might be considered volatile. In that regard, you are quite safe.”
Decided, and admittedly curious, Louisa pushed the door open. “May I help you, sir?” she asked, with more confidence than she felt. The man, however, appeared to neither see nor hear her. Absorbed in his task, he continued turning over the dominoes in readiness for a game.With whom?She moved toward him, now able to see more detail. He was elderly, judgingby the lined, papery skin of his face and the fine, white curls adorning his head.
“My name is Louisa,” she continued. “Are you aware that you’ve dropped some of your dominoes?”
Still no response. She assumed, then, he must be deaf, and thought to touch his shoulder to let him know of her presence but didn’t dare be so bold.
Only when she bent to pick up the pieces did the man’s hands halt their movements, as if he’d realized he was no longer alone. As Louisa rose to her feet, he at last turned to look at her.
Oh, dear God.
The shock of what her eyes beheld turned her blood to ice and froze the breath in her lungs. The dominoes, clutched in her right hand, dug into her palm as her fingers clenched. It took all she had not to drop them and back away from the dreadful sight. But she forced herself to breathe and tried desperately to gather her scattered wits. It was, after all, a disfigurement. Nothing more.
At some time in his life, the man had sustained a terrible injury to the left side of his head. Part of his skull appeared to have been cleaved away. Or crushed, perhaps. His left eye surely had little or no function, judging by the drooped eyelid and the hideous fusion of scarred flesh above and below his brow. His right eye, however—a bright, brilliant blue—was currently regarding her with undeniable interest, widening as it did so. Then the man’s mouth opened, and he made a sound. A groan of sorts.
Louisa swallowed. “You dropped these, sir,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. With a trembling hand, she placed the pieces on the table, aware of his continued regard. It almost seemed as if he was equally as shocked, though perhaps not nearly as horrified. He blinked at last, releasing a tear thattrickled down his cheek. Then he raised a hand as if intending to touch her and uttered one word.
“Gray.”
The tear fell from his chin, landing on the table with a tiny splash. And in that instant, Louisa’s revulsion and fear vanished like smoke on the wind, replaced by a hard, throat-tightening swell of compassion. The man’s deformity no longer mattered. It was nothing more than a façade, in no way representative of the human soul behind it.
“Please do not upset yourself, sir, there’s no harm done!” She smiled. “Gray. Is that your name?”
He blinked again, and a second tear followed the first. “Play,” he said, and looked down at the dominoes.
Louisa glanced briefly over her shoulder. “Well, I would love to, but—”
“Play,” he repeated, touching the dominoes as if to clarify his demand. “Play gray.”
Louisa sighed. How could she possibly refuse?One game. It won’t take long.She glanced over her shoulder again, knowing Maxwell would come looking for her when she didn’t return.
“Very well, but only one quick game.” She took the chair opposite. “Then I must go.”
“Gray.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his good eye, and gave her a lopsided smile. “Gray.”
“Yes, gray,” Louisa repeated, not knowing how else to respond. She turned over a tile, a four-five combination. “Nine,” she said.
