“The storm outside makes me want to leap away from every shadow,” he said poetically.
“Yes, exactly. Even the curtains look like they’re reaching for me,” she said.
“Then let us go.” He held out a hand for her to precede him.
She quit the room, walking out into the hall.
“Where were you when you lost sight of him?” Mr. Fairbanks asked.
“In the library.”
“Then let us go there.”
They walked past the dining room and small parlor, when Mr. Fairbanks said, “If you check the library, I’ll check the room next to it. Together, we’ll have checked all of these rooms in no time. It will be most efficient. What do you say?”
“All right.” She left him and entered the grand library again. She no longer held a candle in her hands and instead ran her hand along the old and worn titles of the great bound tomes that were nearest on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. They were so grand, she never wanted to leave.
Then somehow, she knew she wasn’t alone. A cold chill slipped down her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She shivered and rubbed her arms, grateful that she’d chosen a sensible, long-sleeved, purple dress to wear that evening. Even so, she was chilly, for it was a large room.
There was a subtle breeze as the wind whistled against the windows, and the poor insulation of the old house made the curtains tremble and waver like rippling water, almost as if an unseen hand reached out toward her.
She took a breath and let out a little laugh. “It’s nothing.” She approached the large windows and pushed one set of curtains aside, exposing nothing but cool glass. She did the same with the opposite set of curtains and then exhaled, nodding. She was right. She glanced in the window’s reflection.
A veiled woman stood behind her, staring at her.
Chapter Six
Violet gasped, hereyes wide. She whirled around.
The woman stood at the entrance of the library, staring at Violet, her lips curled in a sneer. She pointed upward and walked away.
Violet stumbled, catching her boots on the long curtains that trailed to the floor. She tripped and fell, then, caught in her dress and petticoats, stood up. She disliked such fripperies, but they were necessary for modesty, even if they did get in one’s way occasionally. She walked to the room’s entrance, her footsteps light and hesitant.
Slowly, she peered out of the doorway, glancing left. At the end of the corridor, the woman faced her and walked up a set of stairs.
Violet shivered.
Mr. Fairbanks came out of the next room, his candle flickering, lighting up his handsome features. “Hullo there! Did you see anything?”
“Um.”
“Say, you’re white as a sheet. What happened?”
“I…” She looked at him. “You’re not going to believe this. I saw something. Someone.”
“Who?” he asked. “Let me guess. You think you saw a ghost?”
“I don’t know. I would normally laugh at myself for even thinking such a thing. It couldn’t have been. But I don’t knowwhat else to call it. I saw a woman, with a veil, dressed all in black. When I looked in the windows she was there in the reflection, and then when I looked out, she was standing at the far end of the corridor and walked upstairs.” She paused. “I don’t know where my uncle is, but I think she wants me to follow her to the attic.”
“You’re joking. You cannot be serious.”
“I don’t know what else to think. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen her. I saw her earlier, but I thought she was a servant. She was pointing up. I think she wanted me to go to the attic.” She gulped. “If she was the ghost, then she was trying to tell me to go up to where she died…”
“All right. We’ll go to the attic. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Thank you.”
Together, they walked past the conservatory, peeking in only for a moment. “Nope, nothing here but plants,” Mr. Fairbanks confirmed.
