She closed her eyes. “That feeling.”
“How do you hear a feeling?” Eustace asked.
But Cordelia was losing herself to it, slipping into the stones below, moving through the earth toward…something.“With your legs,” she told her.
“You’re not making sense,” Eustace said, wrapping an arm around Cordelia’s waist. “I think you’ve overexerted yourself.”
Cordelia opened her eyes and looked to the back wall. She could feel it, whatever it was, coming from behind and below, but when she walked over and pressed against the stones, there was nothing. No door, no opening, no secret passage. Just the voices calling her.
“Cordy,” Eustace said, going to her side, attempting to pull her back. “Come on. It’s late. We both need to sleep.”
Cordelia pressed the side of her face to the stone, feeling the hum reverberate through her cheekbone and jaw. She closed her eyes and listened.
“Cordy, you’re scaring me,” she heard Eustace say beside her. “Let’s go.”
Suddenly, it stopped. Cordelia’s face went still against the cold stone. In the silence, a heavy thump sounded from the other side. Her eyes shot open.
It sounded again—a terrific knock from behind the wall. Cordelia jerked away, feeling it echo through her. “Did you hear that?” she asked, breathless.
Eustace stared at the wall with wide, white eyes. “That,I heard,” she whispered.
The sisters backed up a step, waiting in the dark. The knock sounded a third time, causing both of them to start.
Eustace gripped Cordelia’s wrist. “We need to get out of here,” she insisted, dragging her toward the doorway.
Cordelia could feel her trembling as they backed away. She wanted to stay. To press herself hard against the rough grate ofstone until she could bleed through it to whatever—whoever—waited on the other side. But Eustace’s nails were digging into the thin skin of her wrist.
She let Eustace drag her from the hill and across the lawn, past the dogwood buds and the pointed lupine, to the hidden door of the solarium. Upstairs, she helped Cordelia wash the mortar from her hands and legs and put on a new nightshirt. Neither spoke.
“Interesting choice,” Eustace said when she escorted Cordelia to her room and the big four-poster bed. “I didn’t think pink was your color.”
“It’s not,” Cordelia told her, still fuzzy. “But it’s hers.”
“Whose?”
“The blond lady. The bride from the picture. The one who walks here at night. Our great-great-great-grandmother—Arabella.”
“Uh-huh,” Eustace replied skeptically.
“She has a secret,” Cordelia said as her eyes began to droop. “One of these nights, she’s going to tell it to me.”
CHAPTER ELEVENTHERUMORS
CORDELIA TRIED TOput on her friendliest, award-winning Realtor smile. She’d woken with a regret hangover, the night before coming back to her in fits and starts, a dodgy blur of oversharing and breaking and entering. She’d dressed with a moan and helped herself to one of the sticky buns her sister was just pulling out of the oven, the scent of cinnamon and butter heavy in the air, then downed a quick cup of coffee before marching toward the carriage house, a plate of buns in hand.
West of the main house and near the road, it had a small timber carport that gave cover to a black truck. As she approached, she could see that the original carriage doors had been swapped for a set of contemporary, steel-framed French doors, and she remembered Gordon’s remark about remodeling. She knocked awkwardly at the glass, not sure if she should lean against the frame or turn around. She’d practiced a sultry, come-hither grin in the mirror that morning to go with her tight jeans but scrapped it when she realized it made her look drunk instead of seductive.
When Gordon answered, she held out the plate brightly, feeling like a Girl Scout. “Peace offering.”
He stared at her.
“Ummm…” She tried not to let her eyes trail past his navel.It was hard with his shirt thrown on unbuttoned. “Look, I know last night was uncomfortable for everyone, but I really need a ride into town to get some groceries after my sister wiped out most of the walk-in pantry. So, I was hoping we could start over. Maybe pretend yesterday didn’t happen?” She thrust the plate of buns at him. “I’ll start. Hi there! I’m Cordelia Bone, newly minted owner of the world’s creepiest estate and soon-to-be divorcée. You?”
Gordon took the plate and looked past her, as if he expected a camera crew to jump out of the bushes. Seeing no one, he scratched his head. “Shouldn’t you call Togers for that? I’m sure he’d be happy to arrange a delivery for you.”
Cordelia dropped her arm. “I can get my own groceries. I just need a ride.”
His mouth opened and then closed and then opened again. He obviously wasn’t comfortable agreeing to drive her and wasn’t sure how to say it.
