by Lark Watson
I glanced around the room, now that I knew her grandmother had been in on the listening, I had more questions than not.
“How long have you worked for Mr. Thorneton?”
“Besides this week? Off and on since I got here.” She stopped and I could tell there was something deeper there, but I let it sit. It was obviously none of my business and I would not push where I was not welcome.
“What are the drink choices?” I asked, since, yes. Anything warm would be a blessing.
“Well, and since you’re the only one to ask that, pretty much anything.” She glanced toward where the party sat and leaned in to whisper. “You’d think we were a grand hotel the things they ordered. You wouldn’t believe the stuff Mrs. Fairfax knows how to make. That woman must have quite a past.”
“Really?” It shouldn’t surprise me. As much as Mrs. Fairfax seemed to be the comfortable woman in the country house, she ran it like you might a busy household. The guests, no matter how last minute they were, didn’t throw her to a loop in any way. Perhaps this was a servant’s retirement for her. Which brings us to—
“Fiona, don’t we have generators?”
It seemed like the logical thing for a large house in the country this far north—especially considering the wealth attached to the home.
“Not tonight we don’t.” She said it with a laugh and a wink that left me wondering what the meaning was.
Instead of pushing, I asked for hot cocoa knowing that would hopefully be simple and perhaps already made for Adelia if she were allowed to stay up with the blackout.
I sat, watching the room as Micha had suggested, and wondering what things were being brought up that were planted by the sly little woman with the cards.
I couldn’t help but ponder if part of him was pleased I’d figured out what they were doing. If he knew an extra set of eyes could only help them. And if so, how far along was Micha’s using me for this toward an uneasy trust?
Across the room, Ms. Ingram sat silent for once. The look of contemplation one I hadn’t seen before. She didn’t seem to care for what she’d heard from Fiona’s grandmother in the little room. Was it what I’d been told as well, or something more?
I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been told about Ms. Ingram’s reading for a reason as well.
Fiona came back in with my hot cocoa and set it down on the little table.
“It’s really starting to get chilly in here,” she said. She looked at the other women who had moved closer to the fire, making a small circle around it while the men stood behind them talking.
“Not invited over, huh?”
”No. And I’m not feeling the loss of it either,” I said as quietly as possible.
“What are you two whispering about?” Micah stood to my other side, arms folded, glaring at Fiona.
“And how would that be any of your business?” Fiona’s glare was equally as fierce.
Micah didn’t seem to excel at making friends, but I doubt that’s what he was here for anyway. His first and only loyalty seem to be to Mr. Thorneton. While it should annoy me, I found that kind of loyalty admirable. Having seen the two of them in more private moments when they knew the guests were not cognizant of their interactions, I couldn’t help but wonder what their true relationship was.
“Well, maybe it isn’t,” Micah didn’t seem to mind her abruptness. He seemed to welcome it, almost as if it assured him the ability to put his own manners aside.
I watch the two of them, wondering when this interaction had turned like this.
“Well then,” Fiona lifted her head, giving him a hard stare. It was obvious she expected him to look away first.
“Back to the kitchen for you,” Micha gave her a wink and walked away, walking straight to the office door Mr. Thorneton held open while he stood, arms crossed, waiting impatiently.
“That man.” Fiona leaned over and whispered in my ear an angry rush of words. “That man thinks he is more than he is. And he thinks that I am things I am not. He thinks that that means he can be the boss of me. Well, I am the boss of me.”
And with that, she straightened and stormed from the room.
I decided to not even try to figure out the dance that was happening between those two. And, as I sat there pushing it from my mind, I heard the hard click of the front door. From my place, I could see through the glass doors of the library to the foyer where a man stalked into the house, shaking the snow from his coat. He stood, glancing about the foyer as if it should be clear where he should go.
When no one came to greet him, I rose from my seat and made my way out to do so myself. He saw me, through the doors and waited while I came to join him.
I pushed the library door closed behind me, wondering if everyone had stopped chatting to inspect the new visitor. He looked as if he might belong with the group.
He had features that were unremarkable, although not unpleasant. Where Mr. Thorneton was hard angles, this man was a softer, more gentle version of masculinity.
“Hello, sir. Was there someone you were looking for?” I asked, unsure of my role here.
“Yes, yes. I’m here for Thorne.” He glanced through the glass doors again. “Is he in?”
“He’s gone into a meeting,” I answered, unsure if he was someone Mr. Thorneton would wish to be interrupted for.
“Oh, no worries then. I can wait.” He pulled off his coat and handed it to me. “I’ll just join the other guests, if that would be okay.”
While he waited for my acknowledgement, I got a very clear idea that he would be entering the party with or without my blessing.
“Could I get your name, sir?”
“Certainly.” He pulled at his cuffs, straightening the shirt he wore till it looked nearly as crisp as new. “Mason. You can tell him Mason is here. He’ll know who I am.”
With that, he stepped past me to join the rest of the party.
And so, I took his coat and hung it in the closet off the foyer. I watched through the glass for a moment as Mr. Mason made himself comfortable. While it was obvious he was introducing himself around, he obviously was a man who knew how to make himself at home anywhere—even with strangers.
Obviously, the roads were clear enough for him to arrive, but I still doubted from his introduction that Mr. Thorneton was expecting him.
I brought myself over to his office door and knocked, unsure if I were doing the right thing. But when Micha opened it, there was a scowl deeply etched on his face.
“Little mouse, this isn’t the time—”
“A visitor has arrived,” I interrupted, unwilling to be dismissed.
“Who?” Mr. Thorneton asked from his place behind his desk.
“A Mr. Mason. He said you would know him.”
Mr. Thorneton went cold still, the color draining from his usually dark complexion.
“Mason.” It wasn’t a question. He dropped into the seat behind him and leaned back, obviously disturbed by the news.
I glanced up at Micha, trying to get a better read on what was happening, but his expression was an unreadable slate of granite. With a hard glare at me as if I’d brought the stranger upon us, he strode out, closing the door firmly behind him.
I stood for a moment longer before thinking to leave, when Mr. Thorneton called my name.
“Jane, do not go.”
I froze, glad to be called back and of service.
“This man, did he say anything, perhaps why he was here?”
“No, sir. Only that you would know him.” I began to get nervous as I watched Mr. Thorneton rise and pace to his wet bar.
He poured himself a drink then turned to stare at me.
“And the others, they didn’t seem to know him?”
“No. But they seemed very curious.”
“Ah, curiosity.” He set the glass down, only half finished, and straightened his jacket. “Well then, Ms. Jane, back you go. I’ll rejoin the guests in a moment.”
With that, I headed back to the room, hoping
that I’d at least get to see what was what.
Mr. Mason had set himself among the ladies and was busy charming them when I found my seat. Micha stood, arms folded at the back of the room watching—watching them, watching the doors, watching me.
I felt as though the world would crash in on us at any moment, but then, perhaps it already had.
Chapter 31
When the eleventh hour opened, no one made moved from the heat of the fireplace. But, from outside the circle, I had had enough. My fingers and nose were cold. I wanted my own bed in the quiet of my own room. And so, as the clock struck I rose, folding the blanket over the back of the chair and made my way to the door around the back of the circle. If Mr. Thorneton noticed my removing myself, he did not say anything. But as I reach the top of the stairs I noticed a slight breeze of warm air coming from the direction of our hall.
Walking down the hall I thought it must’ve been my imagination, until I opened the door to my room. Inside was as warm as if we’ve never lost electricity.
I reached for my light switch, but it gave me nothing. Flicking it again, I was surprised to find we had heat up here but no lights.
Getting ready for bed by the light of my little electric lantern was a new experience. I had almost wished for candles, but doubted I would have reached to my room without putting it out.
I crawled into bed, enjoying the warmth seeping back into my nose and fingers, and rolled over surprised to find my alarm clock lit up. What in the world was going on? How was it that only the lights were out?
I suspected this was some plan of Mr. Thorneton’s.
Was this what he had in mind for the group, the mystery of the old woman, the reading of the cards, the candles and the fire… Did it make for a romantic and suspicious way of celebrating the evening? I found I did not mind it. I even at some point romanticize the idea of it all. Imagine, what the evening would’ve been like if they just said an older woman was here to read our cards?
But with the storm brewing outside, and heat of the fire causing everyone to huddle, and the lights out with only the flickering of candles surrounding the room… Who couldn’t feel drawn in by that? I wondered at it. The idea of secrets hinted and secrets told.
It was almost as if Mr. Thorneton had called on the great storm himself to play a role in his plan.
And now Fiona’s statement about the generator made sense. So, I huddled in my bed with my drapes open for once to watch the glow of moonlight on the snow as it fell from the sky. The only detractor was thinking that tomorrow was the day the guests were to leave ahead of the holidays.
It was not the guests I would miss.
Perhaps he would go with his Ms. Ingram if she would still have him.
I couldn’t bring myself to consider it, to think of him leaving once again. I wondered too, what the house would feel like with him gone again. And yet these past few days had been pure torture. Worse than normal and eye-opening. It was obvious that if Ms. Ingram was not to become the lady of the house, that someone would eventually. Even if he chose better—not that it was my place to judge—there would still be a Mrs. Thorneton who comfortably and rightfully made her life alongside him.
I realized that a different future might have to be put in place for myself.
But for now, as I waited to see what the future held, I could only contend with today and prepare for tomorrow.
That was an advantage I had over the Ms. Ingrams of the world. I knew the true scope of time someone such as myself measured something in.
And so for tonight, I measured through the holidays. Thinking of the gifts I bought for the household who were usually in residence. Wishing I got things for those who were new to us. And in all this, I refused to consider beyond what the new year held.
And yet, I could not sleep. Something kept me from it. I rose, thinking to see if the lights had been returned to the rest of the house, only to hear voices coming from the foyer.
As I tiptoed to the top of the landing, it became clear that Mr. Thorneton and Micha were in some type of conference. Mr. Thorneton was directing him in a low, unheard voice while Micha tucked something in the back of his waistband and grabbed a small duffel he had at his feet.
“Fine, fine. I know this all.” Micha slung the duffel over his shoulder. “I’m taking the Land Rover. The roads should be fine, but better safe than sorry.”
Mr. Thorneton gave a nod before turning and striding back to his private rooms.
Micha grabbed the jacket from the edge of the banister and, without turning said, “Well, little mouse, are you coming down to see what’s what?”
I wasn’t as surprised as I should have been that he was aware of me. Micha seemed to know all things, and so, without waiting for further invite, I tripped down the stairs and settled in a few up as he finished pulling his belongings together.
“I’m back to the city.” He sorted through his things and pulled out his phone. With the press of one button, he let it ring once and hung up. “You have my number now. You keep those eyes and ears open. I’m counting on that brain of yours. You call if things go odd here. I’ll be back quick as I can.”
I nodded, not bothering to wonder why Micha had my number. He could probably reach far more difficult people than myself.
“Off to bed now. I’ll take care of things on this end.”
He strode out the door, leaving me a few stairs up from the foyer and wondering exactly what was going on.
Chapter 32
And finally, I slept.
My dreams were fitful and confusing, the players wandering in and out, playing whatever role suited them at the moment. All the while, Fiona’s grandmother sat in the corner of the room, shuffling her cards and smiling to herself.
I woke with a start, at first thinking I’d finally shaken myself awake.
But then I heard it again.
A scream piercing the night and forcing out all my soft feelings from sleep.
“Thorne! For god’s sake, Thorne!”
I rushed to the window and found that the lights had not been returned to the rest of the house. The courtyard was cloaked in darkness, but a figure stumbled through the gate, only to be pulled into Mr. Thorneton’s rooms.
I threw on my robe and slippers and hurried into the hall, only to run into several others at the top of the stairs.
After a moment, Mr. Thorneton came wandering out of his office doors into the foyer.
“It’s nothing.” He waved a hand as if to dismiss the shouts. “One of the guests may have had a bit too much to drink and got lost in the snow. We’re taking care of it now.”
Apparently this type of idiocy was normal with their crowd, as the guests just nodded sleepily and headed back to their rooms.
When they disappeared, I turned to go, only to see Mr. Thorneton still at the bottom of the stairs.
“Jane, I need you.” He glanced over his should. “Go and change and come back to me.”
I did so, as he bid, without thought. Knowing that my only concern was for that of him and his needs.
I would deal with the rest after I found what waited for me in his rooms.
And I knew, that no matter what his guests believed, Mr. Thorneton’s conspiracy of information was real and probably to be feared.
And yet, go I did because what else was here for me to do?
Chapter 33
The scream subsided into a sick silence that was just as frightening.
I could hear the gentlemen in the hallway urging the women to return to their rooms—or perhaps, to return with them to theirs to spend the night.
But, it was the scream that had awoken me echoing through my thoughts, not the dismissive comings and goings of the guests as I changed back into my clothes.
Knowing Micha was no longer in residence made me nervous for once. It was Micha who would have had Mr. Thorneton’s trust and confidence, who would ensure things were done to protect him and the household.
It was Micha who would have mad
e the hard decisions.
I rushed through dressing, knowing what I wore probably wasn’t important, but fearing that I might have to leave the house. I slid my feet into socks and grabbed my boots and jacket as I hurried from the room.
On second thought, I circled back around and grabbed the cell phone, zipping it in my coat pocket—just in case.
I dashed down the stairs, hurrying over to Mr. Thorneton’s office where he’d left the door cracked for me. I slipped inside and eased the door shut, turning back on second thought to throw the lock.
“Damn it, Thorne,” the voice carried through the hallway from Mr. Thorneton’s room.
This was followed by a muffled scream as if someone had known it was coming and shoved his face into a pillow.
I snuck down the hall to where Mr. Thorneton’s bedroom door stood open.
It was redone in the same dark, masculine colors and furniture as the last time I’d been here. Of course, nothing was on fire. That threat had passed, but now there seemed to be a new one.
“Mason, you asshole.” Mr. Thorneton cursed more under his breath as he shifted the light on the bed stand to shine more on Mr. Mason’s shoulder. “Maybe you’ll listen now? Maybe you’ll see that this is not the way to handle things.”
“As if the great Thorneton always knows the best way to handle things.”
“She’s safe—or she was until some narcissistic dick broke into her house.”
“I—”
Both men turned at my entrance, Mr. Mason then glancing toward Mr. Thorneton in question.
“What the hell, Thorne.” He tried to sit up, but winced and then collapsed back.
“Jane, come in.” Mr. Thorneton waved a hand toward me and I entered, shutting the second door behind me for good measure. “Ignore the idiot cursing on the bed. He apologizes for his ill manners and will be thanking the good Lord for you when he’s in a better frame of mind.”
