“Wilhelmina, you’ve been in and out of fever for days.”
She stared at him, an icy chill running down her spine. That couldn’t be true—just last night they’d been in the study, there before the fire.
Hadn’t they?
“You were in and out of consciousness,” he went on. “You were talking in your sleep, saying all kinds of things.” His eyes were soft with pity as he looked at her. “It’s not uncommon tohave vivid dreams in such a state. I imagine they must have felt very real.”
He was wrong.
He had to be wrong. This hadn’t been a dream—it was real.
And yet, as she tried to hold on to those moments, she felt as though she were trying to grasp onto smoke, the memories slipping through her fingertips.
Could it have been a dream? He seemed so sure, so confident in the words he spoke.
“But, how could that be?” she asked.
The Count took her hand in his, his thumb grazing the skin of her palm. “How did it end?” he asked softly. She looked up at him, and there must have been a question in her eyes, for he went on. “If you truly think this dream sequence was real, then tell me: how did it end?”
Mina opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She tried to remember, tried to recall how she had gone from being locked in that dark room to being in her bed now, but nothing came to her.
“You said there were invaders of some kind?” he went on. “Where did they go? How did you escape them unharmed? How did you get back to your bed?”
Tears pricked behind her eyes, emotion thickening her throat as her mind refused to pull forth the memories. It had happened—she was so sure of it. She could feel it deep in hergut, the fear she had felt that night. And yet, she could not answer his questions.
“Don’t cry,” the Count said softly, swiping at a tear that escaped down her cheek. “I don’t wish to upset you.”
“No,” she said, her voice thick. “No, it’s alright. I just don’t understand why I can’t remember.” Shame filled her stomach at her display of emotion, but the tears carried on despite her attempts to dry her eyes. Her head pounded, exhaustion creeping in once again.
The Count pulled her close, brushing the hair out of her face. “You’ve had much excitement as of late,” he said. “You’ve traveled a great distance, left your loved ones behind. Don’t you recall our wedding night? You fainted even then.”
The memory of that evening returned to her, waking up by the fire. But even now, she could remember the marriage ceremony, the strange feeling that had washed over her before everything went black. But this was different.
Had it truly been an illusion from her fever? She’d known the sick could suffer delusions, but it had felt so real, so vivid. She looked up at him, at the sincerity in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking of her now. Did he think she was mad? Had he waited all these months only for his bride to arrive and prove herself unstable so quickly? This man of noble blood, who could have most any woman he wished.
He pulled back, kissing her forehead gently. As he looked down at her, his expression was so tender she couldn’t help but feel guilty for doubting him. This man had only ever been kind to her. What reason did he have to lie to her?
“Your mind is fragile, my love. You are still adjusting to life in these mountains. None can blame you for that.”
The groan of a door hinge cut through the quiet. Mina looked up to see Sofia in the doorway, a tray in hand. When the woman saw her, she smiled, her face as joyful as Mina had ever seen it. “You’re awake,” she said, walking over to the bedside. “Are you feeling better, mistress?”
“It seems her fever has broken,” the Count said. “But she’s been experiencing some vivid dreams in her illness,” the Count said. “One where the castle was invaded and I left her alone to defend herself.” Embarrassment flushed Mina’s cheeks as she considered the words—a man like the Count, who had clearly lost much of his family, surely would never abandon his wife in such a way.
Sofia frowned, looking between Mina and the Count. “That sounds upsetting, mistress. But these mountains are known to bring vivid dreams.” She set the tray down on Mina’s lap—a small bowl of broth and a cup of tea. “It will do you good to eat something.”
Mina looked between them, the warmth in Sofia’s eyes, and the concern in her husband’s. And yet, she couldn’t help but ask, “So you don’t remember that happening?”
“An attack on the castle?” Sofia made a face of horror. “Certainly not. The Count would never allow such a thing.”
Mina exhaled, turning her eyes away from them. It had all felt so real, and yet, she couldn’t firmly grasp any of it now. She gave them a small smile, pushing back the concern in her throat. “You’re right,” she said. “It must have been a dream.”
CHAPTER 19
Whitby, England
Darkness lay over Whitby as Lucy unlatched the cottage door. Mrs. Westenra had thought that a week by the seaside would do her daughter some good, would ease her restless sleep. Yet, as the groan of the wooden door cut through the night and Lucy was greeted by the cool brush of autumn air against her thin nightdress, she did not wake from her dreaming state.
The narrow street was enclosed on either side by red-roofed cottages packed so tightly together that even the moon overhead could not break through the shadows of the slick road beneath Lucy’s feet. Her eyes were unseeing, unable to grasp that it was past midnight, that she was out here all alone without shoes or a coat to keep her warm, but her body knew the path by now, leading her down the passageway that was almost tunnel-like in appearance. And yet, despite the many people sleeping within the cottages all around her, none of them stirred from their slumber as the woman in white walked through the moonlight like a wraith.
