My finger traced over her face. This was the dead maid. Seeing her face – young and fresh and happy, with a slightly-turned up nose and friendly green eyes and brown hair swept up into a high bun – made her real to me for the first time. She lived in this house, slept in my room, died on the hallway carpet. The loopy handwriting on the note matched that I’d rubbed off the old whiteboard in the pantry. And she had been with Dorien. He’d taken her on a date.The best night of my life.I squinted harder at the lights in the background.Are they in New York City—
Creeeak. Creak.
I whirled around, my heart in my throat. “Who’s there?”
No one answered. Obviously they didn’t. Because it was just the house settling. But my nerves were already shot. I dropped the photograph onto the bureau and cleaned up the room as quickly as I could, all the while feeling the scratch of invisible eyes on the back of my neck.
Being around Dorien’s scent like that… touching his things, stroking my fingers along the raw silk of his comforter… it did things to me. It made me doubt my earlier conviction that he’d been behind Mom’s attack. It made me wish for things that could never be.
I needed to let the tension from my body. If I couldn’t fuck, then I needed to play.
Luckily, with three students still away at the recital, the practice rooms were empty. I scrawled my name down on the whiteboard for the Yellow Room and slipped inside. I remembered the last time I’d been in here, when I found my father’s book, and my shoulders tightened with tension. My fingers buzzed with pent-up energy as I removed my violin from its case and rested it against my chin.
I drew the bow over the strings, and in that first lingering note I transported myself out of my body and into the music. I played throughNigunas a warm-up, letting the mournful notes conjure images of my mother that made my chest ache, before launching into Paganini’s explosive caprices.
My fingers flew along the strings, and my mind became a mess of color and light and sensation. The caprices aren’t so much musical movements as they are exercises in madness – it took every ounce of concentration I possessed to keep my fingers on the strings as I executed the double-stop trills and impossible jumps. No memory could push through the wall of music, not even Dorien’s scent.
In some faraway corner of my mind, I became dimly aware of the door creaking open. Elena appeared at the edge of my vision. She hovered in the doorway a moment, casting a glance over her shoulder, before slipping inside and locking the door behind her.
Instantly, the hairs on my neck stood up. My finger slipped on the string.Why is she here? What fresh torture have the Muses cooked up for me?
I didn’t stop playing, but I tracked Elena as she crossed the room and perched on the end of the velvet chaise under the window. Sunlight peeked through the lace curtains, dappling her golden hair. She watched me, her expression serene. I waited for Elena to speak, or forsomethingto happen. But she said nothing, so I kept playing.
I didn’t dare close my eyes, the way I usually did when I played for myself. Instead, I focused on the new techniques Master Radcliffe taught me – resting my hand against the body of the violin so I could use my thumb as a pivot to accomplish the stretches. A cramp ran down the side of my index finger, but I ignored it.
As the last notes of the caprice trembled from the strings, Elena rose. Her eyes met mine – that frozen pixie stare that lured men like the Titanic attracted icebergs. I was surprised to see a tear fall down her cheek. She acknowledged me with a nod as she left the room, a trail of exotic perfume wafting after her.
What the fuck was that about?
I nestled my violin back in its case, unable to control my pounding heart. Did Elena come in here to spy on me? Was it the first stage of some new torture the Muses dreamed up? But that tear… it seemed impossible, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Elena came tolisten to me play.
The gong sounded through the house as the Muses arrived home. A commotion in the hallway drew my attention. I clipped the case shut and crept to the door, pulling it open a crack to peer outside. Ivan and Elena stood at the foot of the staircase. Elena’s fingers curled around the carved banister, while Ivan tugged on her free wrist, trying to draw her back to face him.
“Where were you?” Ivan managed to spin her, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her in place against his body. I tightened my grip on the door, debating interfering, but it didn’t look like he was trying to dominate her. More… that he was desperate. Afraid. “I could not find you when we left. I was worried. I thought—”
She shook her head, pressing her hands to his back, letting her cheek fall against his shoulder. “I wasn’t with him. I wanted to see Faye. I had to make sure she is worthy of you, and I believe she is.”
Wait, what?
Ivan frowned. “You can’t disappear like that.”
“Please, Ivan. Drop it.”
“I can’t drop it. What he’s doing to you… it’s wrong. It’s all so wrong.” Ivan’s voice trembled with rage. He let out a string of words in his native Romanian.
Elena replied to him in the same language, her shoulders sagging with defeat. I was just about to close the door again when she switched back to English. “There’s nothing we can do. We are prisoners here. But he will help us be free. That is the only reason I let him near me, and that is my promise, Ivan. It will all be worth it.”
Ivan spat a reply, his hands curled into fists against his back. I didn’t have to understand Romanian to know he threatened violence against someone. But who was theheshe referred to? Was it Dorien?
I drew back and tapped the door shut with my foot, leaning my ass against it. Why had Elena come to watch me play? Why didn’t she want Ivan to know where she was? And what did she mean when she said that they were prisoners?
Was this another secret lurking in the walls of Manderley?
Chapter Forty-Five
Faye
“Students, as a special treat, Master Radcliffe and I would like to invite you to attend the gala performance of the New York Philharmonic this weekend as our guests, as well as the ball afterward.”
