CHAPTER TWENTYTHEOATH
CORDELIA READ THEname on her phone with bleary eyes before rushing to answer the call. “Hello? Yes, hello?” she stammered, pushing her hair back from her face.
It had been a week since her trip to the barn with Gordon, nearly two since her phone had last rung. She’d diverted herself with researching their family, looking for more articles, hunting down any birth and death certificates, census reports, or small clues that might string together the pieces of information they had. Eustace was insistent that the spirits Cordelia kept seeing were connected by more than blood or marriage.
They had the article on Morna from the study, but what about the other members of the family? If Cordelia could find out more about them, maybe they could get a handle on why they kept appearing, and maybe that would explain the arcane history hinted at in the photograph, basement room, book, and town rumors, but which they still had yet to fully understand.That,they had become certain, was what tied everything together. Unlock their family’s craft, and they could make sense of Maggie’s murder, Cordelia’s headaches, and the strange occurrences that were now terrorizing them.
She’d fallen asleep last night with her laptop open to an onlinedatabase where a copy of an entry in the local register spelled out the cause of death for one Arabella Bone. It read plainly,submersion. She was only twenty-nine years old. Her place of death and burial—the same. Their great-great-great-grandmother had drowned on-site. And Cordelia knew where.
She’d walked to the boudoir, opening the solarium door and looking out over the tropical foliage, the curving stairs. It was late. A smattering of pinhole stars glittered through the hazy glass of the roof. She took the steps one at a time, icy against bare feet, and made her way to the pond. Its lily pads floated like dark, leathery hearts on top.
She’d leaned over the retaining wall, looking into the brackish water at her reflection, a ripple of pale orange hair and paler skin. She could see small markers of Arabella’s breeding and gentility there—the delicate nose and high brow, the long neck and heart-shaped face. But Erazmus was there too, flashing in Cordelia’s stormy blue eyes, in the rigid way she thrust out her chin.
She’d started to turn away when something caught her eye—a roll of golden hair just under the surface, the flaxen locks wafting deeper and deeper before fading from view like a trailing fin. Cordelia had backed away until she was safely in her room. It was a long while before sleep found her after that.
She’d intended to be up much earlier this morning.
It was Molly. “I have bad news.”
Not even aGood morningfirst.Cordelia rubbed at her tired eyes.
“I know we only just got your house listed, but I had to take it off the market.”
“I don’t understand.” Cordelia needed the equity from that sale to fend off the foreclosure, pay the mold contractors, keep Molly on staff, and buy important things likefooduntil this estate business was handled. This is not what she needed to hear right now.
“Your husband has applied for home rights and an occupation order,” Molly said.
“Ex-husband,” Cordelia stressed. “But John isn’t on the title! He doesn’t even live there. He hates that house, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m just the messenger,” Molly stammered. “But until this is resolved legally, you can’t sell. And, well, they’ve already started moving their stuff back in. As soon as the mold remediation was done.”
“They?”Cordelia fumed. “Did you see them? Are they there?”
“No. Just a moving truck with a crew that started unloading a bunch of new furniture.” Molly hiccupped on the other end. “Sorry. I tend to get the hiccups when I’m nervous.”
“Excellent.” Cordelia fell back on the bed. “I can’t imagine who’s paying for that.” She made a mental note to call her attorney, start checking for any new credit accounts opened in her name, particularly with a furniture store. If Busy or his goons saw that, would they think it was her? That she wasn’t taking John’s debt seriously?
“There’s something else.” Molly took a deep breath.
Cordelia moaned. What else could possibly go wrong?
“I’ve been offered a full-time position with an agency in the city,” she said between hiccups. “And I’ve decided to take it.”
“But you can’t! I mean, of course youcan.But I can’t do this without you, Molly. Not from here.”
Mollyhicked into the phone. “I’m truly sorry. You know how much I respect you. It’s just, I’m not sure when you’re coming back. You rarely take my calls or get my emails. Without you here, the few clients you were hanging on to have dried up. And if you can’t sell your own house… well, to put it bluntly, I don’t know how you’ll afford me. As it is, you owe me two weeks’ pay.”
She wanted to argue, but Molly was right. She couldn’t keep asking her to hang in there. “I understand,” she said begrudgingly. “And I’m always here as a reference should you need it.”
“Thank you,” Molly told her. “If you ever do make it back to Dallas, I’d be honored to work for you again.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cordelia said sourly. Dallas seemed very far away right now. “Could you do one more thing for me?”
There was a pause. “Sure.”
“Could you ship my personal effects to this address?” She supposed it was time to face the music. They weren’t getting off the estate anytime soon. They needed time to sort the inheritance and trust and get to the bottom of why they couldn’t leave the grounds without fatal consequences. Eustace was looking and feeling better than ever, but Cordelia still needed to find a way to make the estate work for her the way it was supposed to. “I left them boxed in the garage at the house.”
“Of course,” Molly agreed. “I’ll take care of it first thing.”
