by Lark Watson
I didn’t think about the time or the idea that the walk might be too long in this weather, but headed off down the way to circle the path. The path was a luxury. So many jobs expected you to be available at all times and—especially in a city townhouse—there was nowhere to hide. Knowing I was on my own out here and that no one minded was definitely something I didn’t take for granted.
We’d had a quiet fall, but Mrs. Fairfax had warned me that when we came closer to Thanksgiving people would drift back into their oversized houses to host family celebrations. But, that was still a few weeks off.
Luckily, for security reasons, the outside lights were on each house, probably still filled with the hired people enjoying the peace of pushy owners being far, far away.
I held that thought back, not considering what our house would feel like when its owner packed up and carried on somewhere else. We’d be left in the wake of his energy and probably forgotten before he hit the gate at the end of the drive.
Coming around the far side of the shore, the air was beginning to chap my cheeks pink and my breath became a small cloud in front of me, but I was cozy enough in my scarf and mittens.
As I drew near Tower House, I watched the cottage at the edge of the property for signs of what I’d convinced myself must be a ghost. Mrs. Fairfax’s explanation of Frank tending the grounds was far too boring—and yet, awkwardly suspicious as well.
Unless Frank kept even odder hours than I knew of.
The lights stayed off and the music I strained to hear didn’t drift down to me. It made me melancholy to think about the empty house losing the music I knew had to have been part of it.
I turned up the walkway to Tower House and smacked right into a wall.
My gaze held on the button just at eye-level, knowing what I’d find if it traveled farther up. It was not fear that rushed through me out in the dark night with a man’s hands steadying me with a rough grasp of my arms.
Heat and anticipation and nerves mingled as I closed my eyes and took the chance of breathing in the scent of him while I had him this close.
“Nanny.”
I thought he would let go, would step back. But he did not. His fingers eased on my arms, but did not release them. I breathed him in again, but could not force my gaze up to his where I know he’d be mocking me.
“Mr. Thorneton.”
“Do you walk alone at night often?”
“You know I do not.”
“Ah, do I?” he asked it, so smug.
Of course he knew. He knew everything that went on in Tower House, no matter how disconnected he chose to be from it all. I doubted even Mrs. Fairfax’s cleaning schedule escaped his notice…even as he appeared to think it was all beneath him.
“And what has you out tonight?” his voice was closer, his head tipped nearer to my own.
I could not tell him about the loneliness that had struck me when he’d left that morning. That even just having his oversized presence in the house made it feel more alive.
How could you tell someone who barely knew you existed, who didn’t even bother to remember your name, that you lived for a small sight of him? That you’d built him into a fascinating creature who oversaw his domain with a fisted hand? Who oddly represented your safety and protection from the world you’d escaped from even as you know not to trust either.
Instead, I answered the first word that came to mind. “The moon.”
“Oh, so it’s true then?” I could hear the sneer in his voice, even if I could not see it as I stared at the open front of his jacket.
I fought to keep my curiosity in check but knew that would be not only annoying to myself, but useless to whatever game he played.
“What is, sir?” I finally asked.
“That you’re a little elf. Did you go and look for a magical forest?” His breath rushed across my cheek. “Did you strip naked to be one with nature, little elf.”
I shivered, trying not to be any further under his power than I already was.
I raised my gaze to meet his, knowing if I did not do so, he would continue to push until he believed I was a simple play thing. I had more steel in my spine than that.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Ah, there’s my Nanny.” Mr. Thorneton smiled at me, one I’m sure charmed many people into believing he was at ease. “So, Nanny, I don’t believe I like you walking alone at night. There’s many things in the woods up here that would eat little elves.”
“Sir, the only thing up here is squirrels. Anything else I can handle.”
“Can you?”
His meaning was clear. And so, to prove I could, I stepped back.
“Yes, sir.”
I turned, using all my willpower, and walked away.
I ignored the itch between my shoulder blades that told me he was watching and the low chuckle he let out that told me he was more amused than insulted by my small rebellion.
I shivered all the way home.
Chapter 12
Mr. Thorneton disappeared the next day.
This shouldn’t have come as such a shock. Part of me had thought last night had been the beginning of…something. Even if something was just him using me to amuse himself.
After running into him the evening before, he seemed more real to me. He’d stepped out of my imagination and filled the shoes I’d been crafting for him far too well.
Perhaps it had been my own fancy. Perhaps that rich, smoke and brandy scent of him and the hard warmth of his hands on my arms had been nothing but my imagination finally run wild.
The small step he’d taken further into my reality meant that I was even more surprised when he’d just disappeared. I tried not to let myself be as disappointed as Adelia. Hopefully I hid it well. Again.
Adelia had become an expert little spy in her time at Tower House—or maybe it was a gift she’d brought with her.
She reported after breakfast that Mr. Thorne had taken the car and he had an overnight bag with him. She said that Mr. Micha had also gone and had a bag.
But, she said Mr. Micha had left some of his clothes behind—which he apparently never did—so they would be coming back.
I didn’t have the heart to point out the flaws in her six-year-old logic, but nodded and smiled and forced more English into her brain with the idea that we could surprise her Mr. Thorneton when he returned.
The days took up the same rhythm they’d had before he’d come. There was no loitering at the banister or strange cars slipping in and out of the drive.
Adelia learned to pay attention for a small bit of the day and I learned to stop watching the far side of the house each night.
It was a tradeoff I should have been grateful for.
That was a reminder I needed to hold tight to.
Chapter 13
I shot up in my bed, suddenly awake in a way that would have me reaching for the wrench I kept beside me when I lived in the city. My hand was already halfway to the spot, before I remembered I was at Tower House—and I had no need for a wrench.
Or so I’d been telling myself.
My heart raced and I wondered if I’d fooled myself when I fell into believing my world was a safe one here in a secluded, rich man’s home.
What type of fool lets down her guard when the man of the house so obviously liked to toy with those in his domain.
I got up, glad for the plush carpet under my feet since there was a first frost edging my windows. I snuck to my door, thinking to throw it open and startle whoever was there—if it was Frank doing some odd Frank thing, we were going to have words about the hours he was keeping in my small area of the house.
Even as I moved to the door, my gut told me I was wrong. But, what else could it be? There had been something. I knew it.
Instincts. That was one of the positives I’d gained growing up in homes that weren’t my own. And I trusted them. They’d kept me safe more times than I probably knew.
It was a lesson I probably needed to relearn after last nig
ht. My odd new urge to play with fire was out of character…and not the safe path I typically walked.
I stood, barefooted and shivering in the middle of my room, listening for another sound.
Just as I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined it all, a slight squeak from a floorboard sounded. I couldn’t tell if it was downstairs or down the hall, but I wasn’t going to stay where I would never know.
I started toward the door but stopped short, the hairs on the back of my neck rushing up as the shiver ran down my spine.
A high-pitched scream of terror sounded from outside and I rushed to my window. The west wing still lay in darkness, but beyond it, before I reached the glass itself, I could have sworn lights in the little house went dark.
Not a fast swoosh of the switch. But a quick flick of a shade being drawn.
And then—darkness.
Chapter 14
Morning came and with it, even more frustrated confusion than the night before.
Then, I’d braved out the fear and I’d raced from my room, expecting to find the house awake and alive with action.
But no. I was alone in my anxiety.
I’d checked on Adelia and Sophie, but they—on the other side of the wing—were sound asleep. It made me questions what I thought I’d heard. What I assumed I’d seen.
I had crawled into bed, haunted by the silence. And, when nothing further occurred, I turned my back to the window and lay there, sleep-deprived for the next hour until I slipped into fitful dreams of dark lords and kidnapped maidens.
Life at Tower House was nothing if not compelling.
And so, the next morning, after jolting screams and restless dreams, I lay listening to the morning sounds of the house and wonder…wondering what it was that was hidden here that no one would acknowledge.
Wondering if I’d lost my mind.
And, of course, wondering if Mr. Thorneton had returned.
What had seemed a gift—a blessing—just hours before, itched at my mind. Keeping me awake when sleep should have been as easy as breathing. I longed for the days when people lived on top of one another and maybe no one would get involved, but the cops would show up…eventually.
But that wasn’t my new world.
I was told there were no screams. There were no lights. Go back to bed.
And that was it.
A world unto itself wrapped in the hidden cloak of the forest that surrounded it, the house was both a home and a mystery.
Chapter 15
I was exhausted.
I’d laid in bed all night after the terror screams and the flickering lights and the doubt I’d convinced myself I should have.
But, when one lives in such a secluded spot, isn’t it true that your mind begins to fill in the blanks of the world around you?
Or, perhaps it was just me.
One thing that had not been included—or at least discussed—from Ms. Maxwell’s very thick folder on me, was my whimsy. Perhaps I’d managed to keep it to myself. There was enough in there about being quiet and liking books. Part of my job as I’d seen it—whether it was in the foster homes or later in my childcare work—was to keep as much of myself to myself. Knowledge gave those in power too much of an edge.
Which brings us back to Tower House.
When morning came, I headed downstairs, expecting breakfast to be a bit hectic with explanations and apologies and things to be done.
But, when I walked in the kitchen, everyone was already there in their customary seats. Sophie was practicing her own English on Adelia. It had become a game between them at Mrs. Fairfax’s suggestion. Wouldn’t, she had asked, Sophie have a chance at better paying jobs later and feel more comfortable as we moved more to English, if she herself learned as well?
Sophie, probably suspecting her time was limited here, took to the challenge.
And, luckily for us all, so did Adelia.
The little tyrant loved the idea of being the teacher for once and was constantly learning words she thought Sophie should know. It was a surprising way to grow her vocabulary rapidly.
They were playing what they called the color game when I joined them.
“And, Miss Jane’s hair is colored what?” Adelia asked.
“What color,” I corrected, “is Miss Jane’s hair?”
“Yes. Fine. What color is Miss Jane’s hair?” Adelia did not like correction. Nor did she like to be wrong.
Sophie stared at my hair as though the color was an odd one she’d not seen before. After a moment, she said, almost apologetically, “Brown.”
Yes. That summed it up. Not chestnut or auburn. Just brown.
“Correct.” Adelia smiled at her as if she were the adult and Sophie the child.
The woman should be handed a sainthood.
“Mrs. Fairfax,” I began, edging my seat toward her so as to not interrupt the game. “What happened last night?”
“Last night, dear?” She gave me her attention for a moment before going back to her eggs. “What do you mean?”
“Did you not hear the screaming?” I found it difficult to believe anyone on that edge of the house could have slept through it.
“No.” She looked up again, giving me her full attention. “What screaming?”
“Someone down at the little house was screaming.” I glanced down at my own breakfast, trying not to look too interested. I had found in my short time here that the less you were interested, the more Mrs. Fairfax talked.
“Oh, dear.” She set her fork down, giving me more attention than before. “Are you sure?”
I couldn’t believe she didn’t know what I was talking about. There were screams—and probably more than one to have awoken me in the middle of the night. The scream I heard could only have been a follow up to whatever had pulled me from my rest.
“Yes.” I tried not to bite the word off, but it seemed now as if we were going to do an odd little dance where I was kept far out of the circle of truth. “And, there were lights on.”
“At the cottage?” she asked, as if I could have meant somewhere else.
I smiled, trying not to snip out my answer. “Yes.”
“Well, we don’t have anyone staying there.” She rose, crossing the kitchen door to the upper basement where Frank’s workshop was. “Frank! Frank, are you down there?”
“Yup.”
We all waited for more—or for Frank to appear—but apparently he was even more literal than I’d realized.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Mrs. Fairfax pushed the door all the way open. “And, could you come up here since none of the women folk are allowed in your manly workshop?”
I hid my snicker behind my orange juice wondering just how long that battle had been going on.
Even from the kitchen, we could hear the deep, long-suffering sigh Frank let out before trudging up the stairs.
“What do ya be needing, Mrs. Fairfax?” He wiped his feet on a mat obviously left there for him as he stuck a rag back into his rear pocket.
“Jane says she saw lights and heard a scream from the cottage last night.”
“Ain’t no one in the cottage.” Frank’s statement was absolute.
I ignored the fact that it was one step short of calling me a liar. Frank would have just said, she’s lying if that’s what he thought.
Mrs. Fairfax and Frank stared at one another until he shrugged one shoulder, a quick hitch of surrender.
“Fine. I’ll go down and check it out.” He pulled on a jacket by the kitchen door mumbling about those damn kids, before trudging out the door as if this added chore would throw off his entire day of doing whatever it was he did.
I wasn’t sure if the damn kids meant me or the possible intruders.
I was used to the apathy of city living, but it seemed odd that out here in the country people would feel so safe as to not worry about anything outside their immediate sphere.
We finished breakfast, the only sound Adelia chattering on—back to English now—correcting Sophie as th
ey chatted. Mrs. Fairfax was silent and I tried to figure out if that was a natural morning silence or something more nefarious.
I found myself questioning everything.
Finally, Frank came back in looking more annoyed than when he’d left.
“Kids got in.” He pulled off his jacket and hung it back on its peg. “Looks like lake people. Locals wouldn’t have the money to waste on that type of booze.”
He crossed to the counter and poured himself some coffee, glaring at it too. I had learned that glare was a standard look for him.
“I’ll let Mr. Thorneton know. He’ll either let the other houses know he’s not pleased. Or not.” With that, he opened the basement door and went back down into the workshop that was No Girls Allowed.
Chapter 16
Mr. Thorneton returned after lunch.
I was trying not to find it suspicious, but how could I not? Especially when he called for Frank and Mrs. Fairfax to join him in his office soon after his arrival.
Of course, I had no idea at the time any of this was going on. But, Adelia was more than aware of her surroundings. How she knew that Mr. Thorneton had arrived unaccompanied was beyond me. But the moment I stepped into her rooms to collect her she made the announcement as if the Queen of England had come to visit.
The only reason this was relevant to us was because it meant avoiding the great room. Mr. Thorneton’s patience around Adelia invading his space was nil. And, if he had rushed back because of property damage, I did not want to be involved in angering him further.
The day wore on as usual, but with the added tension of knowing Mr. Thorneton was there. Adelia, of course, was planning her outfit for dinner, expecting to be summonsed.
I had my doubts.
His quick return made me wonder even more what had happened down at the cottage. Coincidence? Maybe, but I doubted it.
