Shadows Wait

by Denise A. Agnew

  “I’m sorry you went through that. Why didn’t the nurses protect you?”

  Lilly shrugged. “Oleta tried. But she couldn’t be everywhere and had many patients to care for. That was a long time ago. I don’t dwell on it.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not afraid of the dark or enclosed places.”

  “It’s quite the opposite.”

  Slowly he reached up and grazed her jawbone with the back of his fingers. “You are not only pretty, but strong. I admire that.”

  She gasped as that sweet warmth blossomed in her stomach. His gaze trailed with hot indolence over her features. She trembled on the brink, allowing her hand to touch his chest and explore for one finite moment.

  “Please Morgan—“

  “This is what it takes to get you to call me by my given name?” His visage, so close to hers, didn’t show a smidgen of humor. “Lilly.”

  She swallowed hard, swept away by her feelings. Confusion made her reckless. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” He leaned in, closer and closer until she felt his breath on her lips.

  His mouth brushed hers. A light, gentle touch more tender than any kiss she could have imagined. Yes, she’d imagined kisses with a man of her dreams, and yet Harry Arbig’s kiss in the back room of the apothecary hadn’t stirred her this fiercely. Especially not like this heavenly taste. His breath was minty. He cupped her face and she sighed. Her heart tripped over itself, beating hard and fast. She didn’t think she’d ever catch her breath. But she wasn’t afraid. No, she was enthralled. She wanted this with a fervency that rocked her down to the soul.

  He ended the kiss and the spell dissolved. She drew back, away from the touch of his hands. Her breath came faster, her heart slamming in her chest. Overriding the enjoyment of his kiss came a rush of shame. She shouldn’t do this with him. Two emotions warred within her. Desire and fear. What if he played with her to keep her thinking he was innocent of wrong-doing in the deaths of those women? Could he know that she knew his family was responsible for horrible things?

  She turned and hurried away before he could speak. She rushed back to her room in the darkness. By the time she’d closed and locked her bedroom door, her mind whirled with confusion. She didn’t know what to think.

  Without turning on her gas lamp, she stared into the darkness and whispered, “Becca, are you here?”

  Silence.

  “Becca was it you that pushed me down the stairs? Or was it Patricia?”

  A soft glowing light spread across the room near the bed, and in a blink Becca’s form appeared. “You told me to leave.”

  “I’m not sorry I told you to leave, but I must know if you pushed me down the stairs.”

  The young ghost’s smile was a hole, a maw where the blackest black resided. “No. I can’t push you downstairs silly. But I wish I could.”

  Lilly sighed deeply. “It is good to know you have little power over me.”

  “I can make sure you don’t sleep tonight, you Lilly loon.”

  Tired and unwilling to continue games, Lilly spoke harshly. “Do you know if Patricia pushed me?”

  “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  Closing her eyes, Lilly let her anger spill over. “Get out. Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

  The laugh was soft and raspy against Lilly’s ears. “I never have anywhere else to be.”

  With that, the ghost light blinked out, and Lilly felt hostility leave the room. She was alone once again. But for how long?

  Chapter 13

  Lilly stared out the conservatory windows and watched clouds roll into the mountains. A week had passed and the mountains remained frosted. Snow lay several inches thick. Morning breakfast had finished and Patricia had returned to her room. Everyone had had breakfast together, but the entire event finished silent and chilly.

  Lilly would leave Patricia to her own devices for the rest of the morning, because she needed to go into Simple to shop for both her ward and Mrs. Healy. She looked forward to and dreaded the adventure; Morgan had volunteered to chaperone her. So she waited, bundled in her wool hat, coat, and gloves. Anticipation rose inside her.

  Every time she saw Morgan, her heart would leap. Her mind would riot as she recalled the kiss. The kiss. She thought of their embrace in capital letters. No, what they’d experienced hadn’t been a passionate embrace, but a mere brushing of skin over skin. A light and stirring taste. But oh, it had awakened everything feminine within, an arousal of muscle, blood, and flesh. She’d lain awake nights replaying that kiss until all the forbidden places of her body ached for attention. She’d believed from reading books that she’d understood the male and female relationship. Nothing in her furtive kisses and embraces with Harry had measured up to the one gentle kiss she’d received from Morgan. That disturbed her down to the bone. She’d been woefully uneducated. That kiss. Oh, it had changed her world, and made her want things—sinful, delicious, beautiful things. She’d struggled to push such ridiculous needs to the background, because she didn’t want to find him attractive. Oh, how she did not want it.

  She hated one thing in particular. Since he’d kissed her, she couldn’t seem to talk with him as she did everyone else. Her ability to lie and to pretend emotions this way or that had eroded.

  One night she’d lain awake with a restless ache between her legs. She’d reached under her unmentionables and found moistness along each fold. She’d gasped in pleasure, tempted to stroke and caress and somehow allow the pressure to evaporate. The heavy sensation in her loins wouldn’t disappear, begging for relief. She hadn’t know if it would, hadn’t thought that it could. So she’d stopped, had curled into a fetal position, and had pressed her legs together. Eventually sleep had taken her.

  Thank goodness time this week had galloped for Lilly. Her daily routine with Patricia would have been smooth but for doubts that cropped up within her mind. at breakfast, lunch, and dinner she experienced Patricia’s world. Dr. Healy spent most of his time at the asylum, which was just as well. Mrs. Healy spent time with the ladies’ society in town. Morgan drifted in and out of the picture. She hadn’t had another opportunity to talk with him in depth—and certainly no time to kiss him even if she’d dared to.

  Lilly, though, had wondered far too often about whether Patricia had pushed her down the stairs, or if she’d imagined the scenario. Becca hadn’t returned, and that amazed Lilly. The little girl ghost never waited more than three days to torment her. Lilly wondered if she could be free of the apparition. Living with the Healys was proving both intriguing and frightening. She never knew which emotion to feel—fear or curiosity.

  “Ready to go?” Morgan’s deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

  She started and swung around. Her hand went to her throat. “How are you so stealthy all the time?”

  His grim morning face, which had shown so little emotion lately, lightened with amusement. He walked toward her. “Military school.”

  “What else did they teach you there?”

  “Many things. Why?”

  Did they teach you to kill? She closed her eyes for a second. “You’ll have to tell me someday. Shall we go?”

  Once in the carriage and rattling down the hill toward Simple, Lilly couldn’t take the silence.

  “Why did you want to accompany me today? Your mother might have volunteered.”

  “She wouldn’t have. She asked me to go.”

  Disappointment struck her. He hadn’t volunteered because he cared to be with her. “Oh.” She shoved the thought away and rushed into the next question. “Do you have errands?”

  “I need to visit Marjorie Holtz.”

  He needed to visit a woman. A tiny flare of curiosity rose upward. Did he have a paramour? The idea sent a pang of hurt through her she couldn’t identify. “Is she a friend?”

  “A good friend. I’ve known her since we were both children.”

  “Oh?” She cleared her throat. “Are you her suitor?”

  He chuckled, an
d the low rumbling sound sent another shock through her body, flooding her with heat. “No. Though her mother thinks I should be.”

  “Are you driving away all her other suitors?”

  “No. She was betrothed, but he broke their alliance after ...” His voice drifted off momentarily, and he looked out the window. “Marjorie isn’t well.”

  “Oh. That’s awful. What’s wrong?”

  His gaze returned to hers, all seriousness once more. “It’s a very long story.”

  “You don’t want to tell me.”

  “I could, but we’ll be there soon and you’ll see.”

  She left it at that, curiosity overriding her discomfort. They went silent until the carriage stopped in front of an opulently styled Victorian. Before they reached the front door, it opened and a butler allowed them inside. The butler greeted them formally, and a maid took their hats and coats. Lilly gazed at her surroundings with genuine amazement. She’d thought the Healy house lavish, but this home’s size and attitude seemed overabundant. Bloated with knickknacks, tables, chairs, and portraiture, the foyer overwhelmed the senses.

  The woman who floated down the staircase a short time later shocked Lilly. She was beautiful, far more so than Mrs. Healy and Patricia, and Lilly hadn’t thought that was possible. The rich, apparently, grew pretty women like flowers. Her midnight hair was piled upon her head, her aristocratic features incomparable loveliness. Tall and regal, the lady glided down the staircase like a queen. Her green dress, as elegant as a ball gown, swished as she walked. Lilly felt and instant rush of discomfort. If this was Marjorie, she certainly didn’t look ill. And she made a perfect match to Morgan’s rough handsomeness.

  “Good morning, Morgan. I see you’ve brought a guest.”

  “Mrs. Holtz,” Morgan said as he gestured with one hand. “May I introduce Patricia’s companion, Lilly Luna. Lilly, this is Mrs. Lucinda Holtz.”

  Lilly shook hands with Mrs. Holtz, ridiculously happy that this woman wasn’t Marjorie. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Holtz.”

  Mrs. Holtz gripped Lilly’s hand with a strong shake, and Lilly almost winced at the pressure. It was a good thing Lilly had no rings or it would have hurt more. Mrs. Holtz had a substantial wedding ring on her left hand—a dark blue stone surrounded by twinkling diamonds.

  Mrs. Holtz didn’t smile, cold skepticism in her eyes. “Why did you bring Patricia’s companion?”

  “Lilly needed to shop for my sister and my mother, so we took the ride into Simple together.”

  Mrs. Holtz’s gaze took Lilly in as if she were buying a hat or a garment, impersonal and full of inspection. Lilly’s ire went up, but she held her tongue.

  “I see,” Mrs. Holtz said. “Can you stay for tea?”

  “Afraid not.” Morgan kept his tone polite, but he wasn’t exactly warm either. “May I see Marjorie?”

  “Of course. Take your time.” Mrs. Holtz turned away and left down a hallway.

  Lilly took the wide staircase alongside Morgan. Above them a chandelier sprouted this way and that in a huge explosion of twinkling prisms. Harsh, cold light illuminated the staircase from a large window. A twist to the left and up another flight, and they came to the landing. He led them down the hall to the left and to a closed door first on the right.

  He stood with his hand on the doorknob. “Lilly.”

  “Yes?”

  His mouth twisted a second, as if he didn’t know how to broach a subject. His eyes held hers, and despite the situation, she couldn’t deny the attraction that brought heat to her cheeks.

  “Marjorie was given a powerful dose of cocaine to alleviate a migraine. There isn’t a cure for migraines and she started having them only a couple of years ago. She wrote to me saying the headaches were getting worse and worse and the doctor in Simple didn’t know how to help her. I asked her to come to Denver University for assistance. I thought my mentor, a doctor on the Board of Directors of the medical school, would be able to help her. He said he could. I had no idea what would happen when he saw her, but I trusted him. I also didn’t know that she’d been drinking a wine called Vin Mariani that contains cocaine for the last year.”

  Uneasiness stirred inside her. “I read in a medical journal once that some doctors don’t believe cocaine is the wonder drug anymore. They say it’s been overused.”

  Surprise entered his face, but then the frown returned. “Perhaps we read the same journal. My mentor, Dr. Helmut Grainger, is a great follower of Sigmund Freud and believes many of the medical claims made by Dr. Freud. When Dr. Grainger learned from Marjorie that she’d been drinking Vin Mariani for her headaches, he prescribed a higher dose of cocaine. He told me he’d given it to her to mix in her wine. I realized right then that something terrible could happen.” His eyes turned dark with fury. “I rushed to her at the hotel where she stayed with her mother. By then it was too late. I barely managed to save her life and had her rushed to the hospital. She was in a coma for a week. When she came out of it she couldn’t speak. She’d had a stroke. She barely seems to know where she is or what is going on. Often she does nothing more than stare into space.”

  Lilly drowned in the pain she witnessed in his eyes. He’d lost a good friend, perhaps someone he’d loved. Ashamed of her earlier jealousy, she placed one hand on his shoulder. “How awful. I sense there’s more to this story than you’re telling me. But it can wait.”

  He nodded and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  Before he could open the bedroom door, she had one more question. “Why did you tell me this? I’m a servant, a companion to your sister.”

  He gaze held hers, intent and serious. “Because I didn’t want you to be shocked by what you’d see when we go in this room.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “I lived in an asylum for twenty years. Not much shocks me.”

  He nodded, relief clear as his eyes eased into acceptance. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Lilly followed as he entered. Dim light filtered through curtains drawn over two tall, narrow windows. Morgan crossed to the windows to push aside the curtains and allow greater light inside the room, though Lilly saw everything with ease.

  While she’d seen catatonic people before, patients who raved, who cut their own skin and pulled out their hair, the young woman in the bed propped against several pillows looked sad. The girl’s tangled dark hair lay long on the pillow. Her white ruffled dressing gown drooped down over one shoulder. The four-poster mahogany bed swallowed up her pitiful figure. Marjorie Holtz must have been very pretty at one time with her small nose, round face, and lush red lips. Her lack of expression ruined that. She stared blankly.

  Morgan approached the left side of the bed, and Lilly the right. Now that the sun shone through the windows, gloom had nowhere to hide. Morgan sat on the bed and lifted the woman’s hand. He cupped it in both of his.

  “Marjorie, can you hear me?” His voice held deep, sorrowful tones. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

  Lilly sat on the other side of the bed and reached for the young woman’s other hand. “Her hand is so cold.”

  “She doesn’t get much exercise. Her mother walks her around the gardens, but with winter upon us, she doesn’t take her out often.”

  Lilly understood. “There are several people like her at the asylum. I’ve sat with them before. Perhaps if you go, I can talk with her.”

  He cocked one eyebrow. “Why should I leave?”

  “I’ve had success with one of them. She came out of her catatonia two days after I began talking with her.”

  He released Marjorie’s hand. “Could be coincidence.”

  “I can’t deny that, but if it works for me and not others then perhaps it’s better to just do and not question.”

  Her confident statement appeared to take him off guard. “You are very certain.”

  She bit her lower lip. “And if you watch, you’ll think its poppycock. When Mrs. Angel caught me talking to one of the other catatonic patients, she made me le
ave. I felt I was about to break through with the patient.”

  “Mrs. Angel is a hag, and I don’t mind admitting it.”

  Lilly laughed softly. “She is.”

  “What do you do that is so unorthodox?”

  She sighed. “I close my eyes and try to hear what they’re saying in their minds. I did it once to experiment and it worked on the one girl.”

  “Really?” The mild sarcasm in his voice made her determined and perturbed. When she glared, he continued. “All right. I’ll sit by the window. Do what you will.”

  After he settled into a chair, Lilly continued to hold the girl’s hand. Lilly closed her eyes and took a huge breath. She slowly let the breath out. She emptied her thoughts and tried to sense Marjorie within and understand what the woman must feel.

  “What are you doing?” his quiet voice echoed in the room.

  “Trying to reach her.”

  Within seconds, she heard Marjorie’s plea. I’m here. But I don’t want to come out.

  “You must.” Lilly squeezed the woman’s cold hand. “Your parents and Morgan love you and want you to be well. You’re distressing them horribly. I know you don’t want to cause them distress any longer.

  Morgan?

  “Yes. He’s been here often. Haven’t you heard his voice?”

  Yes. Is he very worried?

  “Terribly distressed. You must come out.”