Catherine jolted backward and threw her hands up.
“I didn’t mean—” Catherine said.
A handsome man with long, dark hair and a tall, lean build stood a foot from her. His white teeth flashed as he smiled at her. His beauty unnerved her. Once, when she was very young, she thought a beautiful glowing man with pointed ears had appeared from among the trees in a park in London. When she had told Mama about him, she had told her to not make up stories. That man wasn’t real, though. Like the ghosts and other things she saw, they were just figments of an insane mind. Catherine closed her eyes and counted to ten.
He chuckled. “Are you hoping I will go away if you close your eyes? It doesn’t work that way.”
She opened her eyes. He hadn’t disappeared. Perhaps she had made a mistake? He wasn’t translucent as a ghost, nor did he have pointed ears like the man in the park. Catherine pressed her hand to her mouth. What had she done? She should say something, or he might rightfully think her insane.
“Pardon me, I thought I was alone.” Catherine bowed her head and addressed the ground.
“Not many people wander this far from Thornwood or this close to the Thorn Dweller’s woods.” He took a step closer to her. His gaze was fixed upon her, and it made her heart race. His eyes were a vibrant green.
“Thorn Dweller’s woods?” She swallowed past a lump in her throat as she gestured to the pair of oaks.
“Did no one warn you about these woods? These woods are home to the Thorn Dwellers. Those that hear their song are lured into their world and never come out again.”Another step. Her heart must have been pounding hard enough for him to hear it now. Was that why Mrs. Morgan had warned her to stay away? But what were the Thorn Dwellers? It sounded like a fearsome creature, but there was no such thing.
“They did. I apologize. I’ll be going then. It was a pleasure, Mr...?”
“My apologies, my lady. My name is Ray. Ray Thorn.” He smirked.
The hairs on her arms stood on end. The unearthly song had lured her here, and the tales of creatures in the woods made her uneasy. It was all likely superstitious nonsense, but she would not linger a moment longer. With a quick bow of her head, Catherine ran for Thornwood Abbey and not once looked back, fearing if she did both he and the forest would be gone.
2
Catherine picked at the fabric of her silken gloves as voices drifted up from the parlor. The guests had already arrived. She hooked a finger under the string of pearls she wore. They’d been a gift from Lord Thornton. For most of her life at Elk Grove, she’d lived in rough spun cotton dresses. Patients weren’t permitted anything finer than that.
Along with the pearls, he’d given her an emerald green dress made of silk and lace. It was covered in intricate beading, and layers of fabric, and the weight of it felt as if it might crush her. The hallway that led from her room ended upon a landing overlooking the foray. To each side of her were curved staircases that led down onto the main floor. After her lady’s maid,Miss Larson, had dressed her in Lord Thornton’s gifts, she was told to wait here to make their grand entrance.
While she waited on Lord Thornton, the sun set. The broad windows across from the landing let in the pink and purple light of another dying day. Servants came around and lit the chandelier that hung above the foyer.
Night swallowed the interior of Thornwood Abbey as the sun sank below the tree line. To each side of her, the wings of the manor were veiled in darkness. A pale face hovered at the end of the hallway.
Catherine looked down at her feet as she rubbed her arm where her skin pebbled. Footsteps approached. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and took a second look. A maid lit the candle sconces along the walls, and flickering light danced on the dark-wood panels. Her face had been illuminated by the candle. Catherine had mistaken her for a ghost.
Catherine exhaled. Parties already made her nervous. Shedidn’t need the added complication of another fit. She didn’t want to give a bad impression to Lord Thornton’s family. Everything had to be perfect.
A pale hand with blackened nails wrapped around the banister beside her. The woman in white was back. Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. There was nothing there. It wasn’t real. Not tonight. Please spare her just this evening. She counted down from ten. Apart from the distant chatter of their guests, the manor creaked, and the wind blew outside the windows like a sad lament or a painful moan. It was, in a way, a strange comfort. Each night at Elk Grove, she’d fallen asleep to the cries of the other residents.
A hand clasped upon her shoulder. They were going to take her to the room! Catherine lurched back, and her rear brushed against the banister, and she threw her hands out to steady herself. Lord Thornton seized her arm. Catherine tensed her shoulders, screwed her eyes shut, and pressed her lips together to stifle a whimper of fear.
“Catherine, I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Lord Thornton said.
She peeked her eye open and took in Lord Thornton’s face. He stood close enough that she could see the faintest freckling on his cheekbones. Lord Thornton didn’t try to drag her to the room, nor reprimand her. His mouth turned down at the corners. When he grabbed her arm, she had acted on impulse. This wasn’t Elk Grove, and Lord Thornton was not one of the nurses or Dr. Armstrong. She was safe here.
“Lord Thornton, forgive me,” she said, a little breathless as her cheeks burned.
“We’re married now. You should call me Edward, and I will call you Catherine. Lord and Lady Thornton sounds much too formal, don’t you think?” He put his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his.
“If it would please you... Edward,” she mumbled as she averted her gaze.
It felt wrong to address him in such a way. She was beneath him. He claimed he loved her, but she couldn’t say with confidence she returned that feeling. She hadn’t married for love but out of desperation. Either she marry him, or return to the asylum. Wearing this fine gown and gloves, having a servant dress her and do her hair. It felt unnatural. As did being called “my lady”. She felt as if she had donned a costume and was to take part in a play. But she didn’t know the lines.
Mrs. Morgan ascended the stairs toward them. Lord Thornton took a step back from her, and Catherine let out a breath.
“My lord, the guests are waiting,” Mrs. Morgan said.
“Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting for another moment. Shall we?” Edward smiled and offered his bent arm.
