It was very late, and time I got to bed, though I so dreaded sleeping. No matter how comfortable I made my own bed, my back ached and my sciatica flared up, and then there were the nightmares, besides. I dreamed of fire. I poured myself another small glass of port and downed it, before untying my cravat and unbuttoning my shirt.
On the next crash of lightning, a scream echoed up to me from the first-floor hall. I recognised it instantly as Grace.
Without waiting another moment, I fled from my room and took the stairs two at a time, my heavy steps thundering as I descended.
A pale figure in a long white gown came running, her hair flailing wildly around her stricken face.
I caught her in my arms and smoothed the strands of hair back from her damp forehead, hushing her, urging her to calm down. She panted and whimpered as if utterlyterrified.
“What is it, Grace?” I asked her, shaking her gently when she wouldn’t respond. Her eyes were wild, looking all around us. “I’ve got you, Grace. Don’t be afraid. What is it?”
“A woman – a woman’s face at the window!”
My blood ran cold.
“A figment of your imagination. You were dreaming. The storm woke you – ”
Grace cried into my chest. “I know what I saw!”
I took my phone from my pocket while she shivered against my chest. I rolled back the CCTV footage – there were cameras all around the outside of the house – and saw no sign of anyone, anywhere. Only a fox who had been picking around the garden, looking for food. I relaxed a little.
“There is a clear view of your balcony here, Grace, look – there was nobody there,” I said, hoping to reassure her.
She shook her head.
“I was in the library. I couldn’t sleep, so I – ”
Damn it, I thought. There were no cameras aimed at the balcony outside the library. In any case, there was no ladder access to it, and no way for any intruders to be creeping around there.
I explained that to Grace, but her panic persisted.
“There’ve been other things. I saw a man. A man I know, in the park, following me,” she said breathlessly.
I folded her into my arms, eager to make her feel safe and secure.
“This is all so new to you,” I murmured into her hair. I rocked her gently from side to side, which seemed to soothe her a little. “Your mind is torturing you, you poorthing. I know what that’s like. I haven’t slept in years. But I can assure you there was nobody at the library window. Now – what of this man you saw in the park?Isthere a man who might want to do you harm?”
She stiffened in my arms, thought about it, and then shook her head.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
I decided I wouldn’t press her, but I took her at her word. After a few moments, I attempted to guide her back to her bedroom, but she shook violently in my arms, and wailed in such desperation that I pulled her back into my embrace.
“Please, I can’t go in there. I don’t want to be alone,” she said.
I brushed her cheek with my thumb and found it damp from her tears. She was terrified.
“The parlour, maybe. My office..?”
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said again.
I looked up toward the ceiling and mentally begged God not to do this to me. But there was nothing else for it. She was scared, and she was adamant.
I tucked her against my chest and ascended the stairs to my room with her.
She flinched as I let the door creak open, revealing my dimly lit space and the bed with one inviting corner flipped open. I was grateful to have a housekeeper in that moment, and glad that I was a generally neat and tidy person. I would have hated for Grace to seek comfort in my room and find something filthy and unpleasant, like so many lonely men’s rooms were.
