“This curse is no more real than your ludicrous tale,” Mr. Wright said. Portia tensed at the harshness in his voice.
“I’m not sure curses care whether or not you believe in them,” Cordelia found herself piping up. “In any case, before the night becomes any worse and Mrs. Norris finds us here unchaperoned, we’d better leave.”
“Mrs. Norris finding us certainly would be ill luck,” Peverill replied, “but I have a hard time seeing how our own reputations would be damaged.”
Cordelia smiled graciously and curtsied to the men, preparing to steer her sister away before she could respond to Mr. Peverill’s barbs.
“I will see you tomorrow morning, Lady Cordelia. Does eight o’clock suffice?”
Cordelia, caught out, could barely contain her surprise. “Whatever for!” she exclaimed.
“We never finished our tour of Hollyhead. There are some tenants I wish to visit as well. I know that you and your sister are quite familiar with them,” Mr. Wright said, his gaze hard. It wasdifficult not to feel chastised by him when he spoke like that, his voice tinged with vinegar.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Cordelia replied through gritted teeth.
With a nod from Mr. Wright, the parties dispersed into the night. A thick fog was forming on Hollyhead’s grounds. Just gloomy enough to match the sudden shift in Cordelia’s mood.
“Here I was thinking Peverill was the one to watch for,” Portia murmured when they were at a safe distance. “But it seems like Mr. Wright might be the more cunning of the two. He’s certainly on to us. Next, he’s going to make you spend every waking minute by his side.”
Cordelia tried not to picture what spending every waking minute next to Mr. Wright’s side looked like. Because that would mean breakfasting, walking, reading, and spending the night together… alone. Cordelia dropped her sister’s hand, hiking her skirts up as she marched through the dewy grass.
“What astupidstory that was,” Cordelia hissed as they came to the glass door by the library. “I mean, really, Portia? A ritual under the full moon?”
Portia couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing. Cordelia’s annoyance melted away as she, too, collapsed into a fit of giggles. It took them several minutes to compose themselves, worried about waking Mrs. Norris or one of their younger sisters with their tittering. Taking in deep breaths of air, Cordelia and Portia slipped in through the door, making sure it clicked back into place silently before tiptoeing back to their respective bedrooms.
“It was a good guess though, don’t you think?” Portia mentioned as they did their best not to trip over themselves in the dark. “I can’t rightly think of anything else with a spine…”
Cordelia felt her breath catch as she considered her sister’s words.
Spine.Friends.Night.
Portia stopped in front of the door to her bedroom. She yawned, holding a sleeve to her mouth to muffle the sound. “Good night then,” she whispered.
“Good night,” Cordelia replied.
“We’ll find it, Lia. Don’t you worry. You won’t have to spend another minute with that man if I have any say in it,” Portia said, offering her a reassuring smile.
“I know,” Cordelia replied.
Portia shut the door. Cordelia held her breath as she listened for the creak of her sister’s bed. Sure enough, when there was no more movement coming from behind the other side of the door, she raced down the corridor and to the library.
The servants had put the fire out. The only light that was visible came from the great windows. But the moonlight was dim, hidden behind clouds. Without a lantern to guide her, she tripped over a footstool, yelping as she fell to the ground.
“Bother,” she swore to herself, tensing every muscle in her body while she waited for a footman to rush in.
But no one came.
Holding her breath, she stood, her gaze scanning the stacks of books. And then there it was. It was so subtle that it could have been a trick of the light. But the longer her gaze focused on it, the more the words jumped out at her:Look here.
Cordelia crept over to the shining yellowish scrawl. She’d never seen anything like this in her life. The text glowed in the darkness. She could make out some of the lettering on the spines of other books, when the light coming from the windows seemed to hit them just right. But this was glowing. And it appeared it had been written by hand.
She hesitated a moment before plucking the book off of the shelf. Padding over to the window, she could finally make out the title.William Shakespeare: the Complete Works.
“My God,” she breathed, thumbing through the enormous volume. She had no idea what could possibly be contained in its hundreds of pages, so imaginative were these riddles becoming.
Just then, the creaking of the door made her slam the tome shut. She coughed as some dust was expelled.
“Lia?”
