All the while, Teddy glanced up with the widest of smiles. I did not know it was even possible to smile so much.
I can still taste the blood on my tongue, as it has been two weeks since the incident.
Weeks since Teddy had first spoken with me. Between then and now, we have shared many more words with one another. Mine are always short, whereas his almost always are accompanied by a smile that seemed to light his handsome face from within.
If these pages could use tongue and speech, you may ask how I know I love a man I have barely known, let alone know anything about.
Because he occupies my mind,always.
When I was a child, sitting on my father’s knee, I asked him why he loved my mother. He had said exactly that.
She always filled his mind, whether far or near. Mother haunts him.
That was his description of such an emotion like love. Haunt, a word that is taken straight out of a Bram Stoker novel.
Teddy never leaves me. Even in my dreams, he is there, haunting me like some phantom of an old or violent Shake-spearean ghost that my tutor makes me read so much about.
I hate it. I hate myself for thinking such thoughts and for feeling such a way.
This is why I must meet him tonight after Mother and Father are in bed. He stays in the gatehouse at the border of our estate. I am going to confront him and tell him to leave Hanbury myself.
Leave me.
The sooner Teddy is away from Hanbury Manor, the sooner my mind can be mine again.
I can bemeagain.
Teddy must go soon, otherwise I fear I might break. And that, dearest reader, scares me.
PART 2
Monday
William woke to the violent sound of banging. His eyes flung open, neck aching from the bent angle he’d been sleeping in. It took his tired mind a moment to register that the flood of light in the room wasn’t because the fire had spread whilst he slept.
Morning had arrived. Instant regret from downing the bottle of wine accosted him as his head echoed alongside the bang, bang, bang. William clutched the side of his skull, groaning like a spoilt child, wincing against the bright streams of dawn that stirred dust motes to dance.
He kept still, listening out for the noise again but nothing happened. Perhaps it had been the sharp pain in his head that woke him after all.
William had fallen asleep on the sofa at some point while reading Robert’s journal. He lifted a hand and massaged the stiff muscles in his neck. He smacked his clammy tongue, brushing his mouth with the back of his hand until a smear of dried red flecks came off on his skin. Instead of taking himself to bed like a normal person, he’d now suffer consequences.
“I’mneverdrinking again,” William announced to no one but himself and the glowing embers that smouldered in the fireplace. “Actually, that’s a full-blown lie, and I know it.”
Taking the phone from his pocket, he turned it on. When the screen brightened, his eyes first went to the time – 10:33 a.m. – then to the red battery bar, which flashed next to the no signal symbol.
Responsibilities reared their ugly head. He needed to get the electrics working assoonas possible. But he barely had time to contemplate getting up from the sofa to continue his hunt for the fuse box when the banging started again.
Bang. Bang.Bang.
This time he was certain the noise wasn’t a result of his sore head. Which only made matters worse because the sound was very real and coming from his front door.
William stood quickly, recognising the thud of a journal falling from his lap to the floor. He reached for the fire poker he consciously kept close, ready to use it against whoever was rudely smashing fists against the front door.
His mind went to last night, when the noises upstairs had given him a moment of fright – except this time, the sound wasn’t above him. He paced slowly beyond the living room and out into the connective corridor.
The banging stormed through the quiet manor, filling every pocket of still silence and ruining it.
He stood at the end of the corridor, squinting at the front door ahead of him.
