by Gwen Hayes
IT WAS ONLY a night later that brought yet another ghost to Thornfield.
"Where is she?" Gideon's voice boomed from the entryway. "Violet! Violet where are you?"
I stood warily from my perch at the kitchen table where I'd been keeping vigil with Claire and Jeannette, his shouts thundering through the house as he closed in on my whereabouts. He slid into the room, spinning in a typhoon of dark emotion, his hair in disarray, his unbuttoned coat flying behind him like a sail.
He stopped dead in his tracks, panting and red-eyed. "Violet," he said simply, my name a prayer on his lips as if he hadn't just roiled through the night to find me.
"Yes, Mr. Winston?" I glanced at the two maids I'd been sharing tea with, hoping they didn't deduce too much familiarity from Gideon's manner. "What can I do for you?"
His jaw clenched and his throat worked mightily around words that would not form. "There is a problem. Come with me."
Not waiting for me to comply he steered me to the door by my elbow.
"Is it Phillip? Is Phillip all right?"
My feet barely touched the floor as he herded me into the first empty room he came across, closing and locking the door behind us.
"Gideon, is Phillip well? You're scaring me."
"I'm scaring you?" He shoved me against the door and took my lips in crazed ravishment, his arms like iron bands holding me still. The dark storm seized us both, throwing us overboard into a heady sea as he kissed and kissed me.
As if he were suddenly spent, he slumped against me, breathing into my neck, pulling the pins from my hair.
"Gideon?" He didn't answer but for the hoarse breaths he drew. "Gideon, did you know…had you heard? Marisol has gone missing."
"Marisol," he said into my skin. He shuddered, great racking quakes that shook us both. "They found a body, Violet. They said…they said they'd never seen anything like it. They found it in pieces."
Bile threatened, churning in my stomach, making me take deep breaths. "Marisol?" I whispered.
"I don't know." He raised his head and examined me as if committing my face to memory. "I was standing at a street vendor when I overheard two constables talking about their gruesome find. One said he thought she was a maid from Thornfield." He paused and began to shake anew. "I didn't know Marisol was missing, Violet. I went crazy thinking it might be you."
"Oh, Gideon." I pulled his head to my chest and stroked his hair, whispering into the downy softness of it. "I'm fine. I'm here."
He squeezed me as if to prove I was really there, in his arms. "I couldn't…God, Violet. I barely remember getting here. I couldn't take the time to even call. I was afraid….afraid that if I didn't see you for myself, that if I tempted fate with the question, then surely the answer would be you."
"Shh." I held him close and we slid down the door. He laid his head in my lap and I stroked his locks, whispering nonsense words to comfort us both from a truth that would not find relief.
The world had gone mad, but this time, this time I had someone I could hold on to.
When he was calmer, he checked the hall for witnesses and led me to my chambers, locking the door behind him. He undressed me so carefully, as if I were made of porcelain and my clothes fragile silk. He stepped back and explored me with his eyes, my skin heating everywhere his gaze touched me.
"Is it right to do this tonight?" I asked. It was never right, but felt disrespectful, somehow, to Marisol.
"We have to find grace where we can, sprite." He was more ruthless with his own attire, and by then I was grateful for him to speed up.
I needed to feel him naked against me, naked inside me. I needed it like I needed air.
Gideon didn't, however, speed things up. A calm had prevailed over him, the quiet eye of the tempest, and he kissed me sweetly, tempering my heat with his cool. I arched into him, willing him into my body, but he took his time, murmuring sweet words into my skin, imprinting what had been mine into his. When at last he entered me, he did so achingly slow. He held my hands pinioned to the pillow on either side of my head, and he looked into my eyes and he held us in that infinite moment without moving.
I'm afraid I gave him everything then. My eyes betrayed the things I'd left unsaid, and he took it all in, knowing me in a way I'd been trying to hold back.
"Jesus, Violet, you're the heart before the break."
I couldn't ask what he meant, for he began to move slowly, deliciously between my thighs, and I gave up the worries that tethered me to this world so I could fly with him on another. Time held us in a place apart from the rest. There was only the slide of skin, the heat of love, and the crash of souls.
I watched him as he let go, all the powerful man and beast roaring into the night. And when he returned to me, he laid battle weary on my chest. I couldn't imagine returning to what we once knew for I was changed…he was changed. We'd ripped down the seam of our world, tearing the stitches out, never once thinking what would become of us without the very fabric of our lives.
"There you are."
I found Gideon in the library pouring himself a drink. He turned, glass in hand. It was filled near to the top, not the two to three fingers most gentlemen used. I blinked my surprise, but made no comment.
I made sure the door was closed firmly behind me. It had been two days since Gideon had made love to me last. I tried to remember I had no claim to his time, but I missed him.
I crossed the room, conscious that my drab brown dress covered all the parts that might entice him. "I have a free day coming up. I thought I might visit the cemetery. Shelby's employer paid for a marker. I wondered if you'd like to go with me."
He said nothing for a long time and shook his head. "I don't think so."
"It wouldn't be prudent, I know," I answered, trying to swallow back against the rising of my heart in my chest. Something was wrong. "I didn't mean we should leave the house together. I thought perhaps you could meet me."
"I'm sure John will be happy to take you."
His words were a slap in the face. "Why would John go with me?"
Gideon downed half his drink in an angry swallow. "He's sweet on you, surely you can see that? He'd be a better companion for such a thing."
I tread carefully across the words he'd thrown out, searching for an accusation or an explanation of what had troubled him so. "John is my friend, but it's your company I was seeking."
"Did you know that my father hates women?" It seemed a rhetorical question, so I waited for more. "He hated my mother most of all. She died giving birth to Phillip, but what nobody ever says is that she gave birth at the bottom of the stairs." He stared into the fire grate, though no fire was set. "He thinks all women are whores. I remember him saying that to her more than once."
"Gideon-"
"I don't think that's true, but I do believe that all men are bastards. Especially me. I'm the worst kind. I pretend I'm different when I'm not. I'm a right bloody bastard, just like him."
He was scaring me. "Perhaps I'll leave you to your brandy and we can speak later."
My hand was on the door. "It's over, Violet."
I didn't move, didn't turn, didn't breathe. "I see."
"Do you? Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I pivoted with the handle of my escape firm in my grip. The color rose and fell in my face as the heat prickled into ice that first covered my skin, then journeyed inward. "I take your meaning, sir."
I thought I felt cold, but it was nothing compared to the expression on Gideon's face. "Well, you always were a smart girl."
Nay, not a smart girl. A very foolish one. I'd risked my career for a chance to touch the stars, but forgot that they were light already dead. I let my chin have its due, thrusting proudly as if the world weren't caving in around us. "Were you expecting histrionics then?"
He laughed that sharp, mirthless noise he makes in the company of those he holds no respect for. "I should have known better. No smelling salts for our Miss Merriweather." He downed the rest of his chosen poi
son. "Though my pride may require a tear, I'm glad of your pragmatism."
His pride. His pride? And what of mine? Was I to have none? Of course not. This was what I earned by allowing my pride and heart to reign my sense. I was a servant. A woman. An orphan. I'd had the good fortune of a station in a good home, and I threw it away to dally with my employer. "Perhaps the next governess can hold your attention longer."
Gideon shook his head. "There will be no new governess. Your position here is safe. Nobody need know."
Every word from his mouth transferred more frost to my heart, so I decided to keep him talking. The more encased in ice it was, the less likely it would ever thaw again, and that was my new goal. "The way you bellowed my name through the manor the other night made sure that the household does indeed know something. It won't be long before I'm gone, Gideon. At least you won't have to be reminded of your mistake at every meal, though, right?"
"I am your mistake, not the other way around, Violet."
None of it made sense. The last time we'd been together, he'd been unraveled with need. How could he change his feelings like a new shirt? I wanted to ask, wanted to beg for explanation, really, but would not. I would learn my lesson from this and learn it well. I'd promised myself after Shelby's death never to allow another into my heart and look what I'd almost done. Had any more time passed on our love affair, surely I would have fallen in love with him, and then where would I be?
"If that is all then, Mr. Winston?"
He narrowed his eyes at me in a thinly veiled glare as if I were the one causing this scene. He shook his head berating himself in an argument taking place where only he could hear. He turned back to his precious decanter to refill the ache that no human alive could do for him. "Marry John, Violet. It won't take much. A few smiles, a fleeting glance or two. He'll fall over himself to secure your future."
"John deserves a woman who loves him. As it happens, I am barren in more ways than one."
I didn't cry as I quietly left the room. Not one tear. Not that night or any night after. Gideon would simply have to find another way to heal his wounded pride.
If Minerva was surprised to see me on my next free day, she didn't show it.
I handed her a parcel.
"What's this," she asked.
"Lily's belongings."
She cocked her head for a better explanation.
"A dress, some coin, a very old, yet still working PEAD, and a letter of recommendation from her last employer. Everything she'll need to get a fresh start once she's regained some of her health."
Min's eyebrows made extravagant arches over her eyes. "You forged a letter of recommendation?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to. If my treachery were discovered, losing my job would be the least of my problems.
I ran my finger over the shiny wood of the bar. "I can't come back here. After today. I trust you'll do the best you can for Lily." It was Gideon's world. I had been an interloper. It was time to return to the life I was meant to live.
Minerva pushed a cup of tea towards me. "So you finally threw him over then."
"Not exactly." I looked up into her disbelieving eyes. "Don't look so surprised. Surely I'm not the first, nor the last, in line for his affections."
"He never brought anyone here before."
I shrugged. "He shouldn't have brought me. I'm not suited to the environment. I'm too staid."
"You're an idiot, anyway."
"Min!"
She lifted one shoulder casually, as if she couldn't be bothered to shrug both. "Well, you both are. You never should have risked it, either of you. But I'll tell you one thing, Miss Prim, no woman ever shared his bed more than once. Not before you, and if his moping the last few nights is any indication, it won't happen after you either."
Of course she knew all along we were lovers, but it didn't stop the blush from blooming on my cheeks to be reminded of sharing his bed. "It's none of my business how he spends his time."
"Do you love him?"
"No," I answered quickly. If she were picking me apart, which I'm sure she was, she would probably say too quickly. But she let it go.
"You're still welcome here. It's my ribaldery, not Gideon's."
I put my hand over hers for the briefest of moments. I hoped it was enough to convey how much her words meant to me. "It's too dangerous for me. I need to blend back into the walls of Thornfield and hope I didn't draw too much attention to myself. To you."
She nodded. "I'll take care of Lily. Don't worry about her."
That was as emotional as our goodbye would get, for neither Minerva nor the governess could risk feeling any more than that.
A LOUD thump jolted me awake. I blinked at the darkness while my heart punched a crazy, irregular beat against my ribcage that couldn't be good for me. I listened intently and the noise repeated. It was above my head, in the attic. It had to be. Had an animal somehow found its way in to avoid the harsh winter?
Even as I pretended not to know better, my ears stayed on alert. And then I heard the scream. It was muffled quickly. Cut short. I choked on my breath as ice replaced the blood in my veins. There was no denying or explaining it away any longer. Something nefarious was happening, and I could no longer ignore that it was happening right above my head.
Not bothering to turn the dial on my bedside lamp, I swung my legs over the bed and grabbed my wrap from the foot of the bed. I wanted to light every lamp in the room, but knew that it wouldn't change what was happening in the dark of night. Something foul lived in the walls of Thornfield Abbey. It had mocked me with its secrets long enough.
My slippers were warm, but provided no comfort. I tightened the sash of my robe and inhaled as deep a breath as my lungs would allow as I opened the secret panel. I wished that Gideon were home, before I remembered he'd not aid me in any case. Instead of going left, I took the unfamiliar right. The wall torches became scarcer the further I traveled, but I remembered that they came off the wall and removed one to be my guide.
The dark, narrow corridor curved and curled into a confused path as I went up and up. The sensation of fear was powerful, but my will was stronger. For better or worse, I was committed to ending the mystery that held the Winstons in its clutches with talons like a hawk holding a mouse.
The hall was damp and fusty, spreading a vague sense of ill into my very bones. I don't think a cloak of fur could have warmed me by that point. Reaching the dead end, my facade of bravery cracked. What was wrong with me? Why in world had I gone on this errand alone? I could have trapped myself in the walls never to be seen again. Maybe some other hapless person had done the same and it was their ghost I kept hearing in my slumber. It occurred to me I deserved whatever would befall me for putting myself in danger.
I didn't see any mechanisms in the wall like the one that opened the secret door of my room. Finally I noticed an empty torch holder and placed my light in the holster so I could better investigate. As soon as it clicked into place, the wall opened revealing a laboratory similar to John's on the lower level.
I stepped in and the wall closed behind me. The sound of it reminded me of the noise that had awoken me. As I moved further into the lab, the comparisons to John's workplace stopped. Tables glowed with tubes and beakers of glowing viscous liquids of differing colors. The bubbling sounds gurgled ominously, though I couldn't say why the sound bothered me. A jar of congealed…something…made me queasy and my dinner threatened to make a reappearance.
I explored the lab some more and found each jar held something more disgusting than the last. An entire shelf was full of glass containers of what looked like organs, and the shelf below it contained the same lumps of flesh, only they were mutated into shapes unnatural and gruesome. My skin pulled tightly into gooseflesh. What kind of experiments were these and who was performing them?
There was still no sign of whoever had made the screaming noise or the one who had muffled it. I knew better than to let that appease my fear. Just because they hadn't shown themse
lves did not remove the danger. There was an actual door at the far end of the laboratory and every instinct told me not to approach it.
The hair on the back of my neck quilled in warning. It was on the other side of the door I would find my answers. I swallowed. But how badly did I want them?
I thought of Shelby. Had she met her end in this very room? Or maybe the cabin in the woods? Trepidation would not save the next poor woman from a violent death, and so I imagined an iron stake as my spine and pushed the door open slowly. My heart seized and pushed my blood through my veins incorrectly at the sight of a woman strapped to a vertical table. She didn't look well. In fact, it appeared she may have met her end some time ago. Part of her exposed skin was the color of mold but it also looked like parts of her were made of copper plates and wires.
There was nothing to fear from the dead, I reminded myself. There was nobody else in the room. I approached the table, sickened and heartbroken at the departed soul. How long had she been in this room? Why had her body not been put to rest? What nefarious purpose could she be serving?
Here was Lily's zombie.
I swallowed the bile inching up my throat and stepped closer. She was attached to a hulking machine with tubes and wires. In the center of it, an overlarge bellow expanded and contracted with hisses and puffs. I looked at her face, trying to discern…I don't know what I hoped for…an approximate age or something.
Evidence of an easy life or death would not be found in her appearance as she was something in between the two. Half of her face was mottled skin of purple, green, and blue. The other half was a polished copper skull. She looked familiar, though, despite her fiendish manifestation.
Oh, dear God.
I took a step back.
No. No. No.
The woman on the table was Elizabeth Winston. Gideon, John, and Phillip's mother. Their very dead mother.
As soon as I made the connection, Mrs. Winston opened her eyes.
I screamed. It was like looking into the eyes of hell. Those eyes-I would never sleep again without seeing those deranged, tortured eyes.
