by Wendy Webb
He looked like he’d been stung. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back from me. “That was completely inappropriate. Please forgive me.”
I smiled, wanting to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Let’s just get back to the house.”
We began walking through the snow back toward Havenwood, the dogs bounding ahead of us at a run. It felt like we were leaving the possibility of a kiss behind, too.
When we reached the front door, we stood there for a moment.
“Remember, not a word about this to Mrs. Sinclair,” he said, his voice low. “If she asks, let her know we followed the footprints into the forest and lost the trail, but that we thought it was heading back toward town. I’ll find Adrian and apprise him of the situation.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling calmer with a plan in place.
“Okay,” he said. “Now I’ve got to dig out my tuxedo for dinner.” And then he smiled. “Or maybe this calls for my kilt, eh?”
“Only real men wear skirts in the snow.”
“Challenge accepted. I’ll see you at six thirty.”
NINETEEN
I opened the door to my room to find Marion leaning over an enormous old trunk, which had not been there before.
“What’s this?” I asked her.
She straightened up, putting a hand to her back. “Mrs. Sinclair asked me to have it moved into your room. It’s full of dresses. She said she wasn’t sure if you had brought sufficient formalwear for the dinners she’s planning to have. Now that you’re here, she’s feeling a bit more”—she paused and searched for the right word—“festive than usual, I guess you could say.”
“That’s right, I only brought a couple of dresses, and casual ones at that,” I said to her, glancing into the trunk at the taffeta and crinoline and silk. “I was wondering if I’d have to wear them over and over again. I really don’t have the funds to buy any more.”
Marion smiled. “Well, now you don’t have to. There are so many dresses in here, all beautiful. And there’s another trunk where this came from as well. Shall I hang these up in the closet for you and press something for dinner tonight?” She fingered the fabrics in the trunk and crinkled her nose. “It looks as though some of these need to be steamed.”
I glanced at the clock. It was well after noon. Drew and I had been in the woods longer than I realized, and I felt a deep chill. I was craving a long, hot bath and a good book.
“Do you have time to tend to these dresses, Marion?” I asked, eyeing the trunk. “Don’t you need to get dinner started?”
“The soup’s on the stove and the roast is ready to go in the oven,” she said, smoothing her apron.
“Then, if you don’t mind, while you deal with these”—I pointed to the trunk—“I’m going to slip down to the library and grab a couple of books. I’ve been outside all morning and could use a good soak in a hot bath.”
She nodded. “I’ll run it for you,” she said.
I padded my way through the house to the library, satisfied that I was finally learning my way through this maze. The halls, which had been so off-putting when I first arrived, were now becoming more familiar. But still, they felt empty. There were only four of us, along with several servants, in this massive house, after all. The chances of seeing someone else at any given time were very slim.
That was why, when I got to the library and began nosing around the shelves, I was surprised to hear noises coming from the east salon. Its doors were thrown open and light was streaming from them.
I crossed the room, my footsteps muffled by the Oriental rugs, and poked my head inside. A man dressed in a dark suit and two women in traditional black maids’ uniforms were bustling about. One of the women was polishing the woodwork; the other was on a ladder washing the windows. The man was clearing the remnants of that long-ago meal from the table. None of them took any notice of me. I scanned the room and saw brooms and dustpans and all manner of cleaning supplies.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me? What’s going on?”
They all snapped their heads around to look at me at the same time.
The man straightened his jacket and gave me a slight bow of his head. “Hello, miss,” he said. “We’re straightening the room for tonight’s festivities.”
“Festivities?”
“At the lady of the house’s request.”
That was odd. I knew Mrs. Sinclair had kept this room shut off from the rest of the house for years, maybe decades. I wondered what these “festivities” would entail.
I stepped into the room and looked around—it was gleaming with freshness. Now that all the spiderwebs were brushed away and the dust was swept up, it looked quite beautiful.
My gaze shot over to the fireplace—but the wall above it was bare. Did someone take down that ghastly painting? Or had I just imagined the whole thing? I shuddered and realized the cleaning crew was staring at me with expectant eyes.
“You’re doing a nice job,” I said, clearing my throat, not knowing quite what else to say. Finally I came up with “Carry on!” and backed out of the room.
We’d likely be having our drinks in the east salon before or after dinner, I reasoned, hence the cleaning. At least that horrible painting that had come to life the day before was gone.
Back in the library, I was tempted to go to the first editions shelf but then thought better of it. I was planning to read in the tub and all I’d need would be to drop a priceless volume into the water. So I moved on to the other shelves on the first floor, noticing that they were set up like a regular bookstore—in sections. I ran a finger along the spines and saw biography, travel, history, the occult—I hurried past that one—and finally came to what I was looking for, fiction. As I studied the spines for titles that interested me, the books themselves seemed to be whispering and cooing, drawing me in.
I chose The Hound of the Baskervilles, Wuthering Heights, Rebecca, and a couple of modern-day mysteries that I hadn’t yet read. But then I realized that I had chosen only eerie tales—my life itself was eerie enough these days—and I made a point of finding The Shell Seekers to balance things out. My arms loaded, I headed back out the door, excited to slip into a hot bath and lose myself in a good book.
But then I heard it again, the same small, singsongy voice, way off in the distance, as though it was coming from the past.
“Jack and Jill went up the hill / To fetch a pail of water…”
I snapped my head around to look toward the door of the east salon, and the image of a blond girl in a white gown was hovering there, in the air. But then she flickered and faded from view.
I stood there, frozen in terror. I didn’t know if this was a hallucination or one of the ghosts Mrs. Sinclair told me was floating around Havenwood, but at that moment, I didn’t care. Something inside of me snapped. I found my feet and pounded blindly down the hallway as though the devil himself were chasing me. I had to get out. I threw open the front door and ran outside, no coat, no boots, no gloves. I didn’t care. I would’ve run all the way back to Chicago through the foreboding wilderness rather than go back inside that house of horrors.
“Julia!” It was Drew, coming around the side of the house. “What are you doing out here?”
I didn’t stop. I didn’t answer him. I hurried down the front steps and into the driveway, oblivious to the cold.
“Julia!” Drew called again.
He reached me in an instant, grabbing me by the arms and turning me around toward him. “What’s the matter? Where are you going?”
I could barely catch my breath and leaned against him. “I saw something inside the house,” I panted.
“Come on,” he said gently, rubbing my arms. “You must be freezing. Let’s get you back inside.”
I shook my head. “No!” I cried, the image of the little girl floating through my mind. “I…” But my words trailed off. Looking into Drew’s eyes, seeing his expression of gentle concern, I suddenly felt very silly. And, all at once, cold
.
“Come on,” he repeated, leading me back up the steps and through the still-open front door.
I shook my head. “I don’t know what came over me,” I said.
“You said you saw something?”
I took a deep breath, my pounding heart slowing as we walked together through the foyer. “I went into the library to get a couple of books,” I said. “And I noticed people in the east salon.”
“The east salon?” He furrowed his brow. “Are you sure?”
“They said they were opening it up, per Mrs. Sinclair’s request.”
He frowned. “And that frightened you?”
I didn’t quite know how to go on. How was I going to tell this man I had seen, and heard, the apparition of a little girl?
“Not that, exactly,” I began. “It’s just, I don’t know, Drew. Ever since I got to Havenwood, I think I’m seeing—and hearing—things that aren’t there. It makes me feel like I’m going crazy.”
He looked at me for a moment, opening his mouth as if to say something, and then closing it again. Finally, he spoke, his voice warm and gentle. “You’re not crazy. Far from it. I mean, look at all of us here at Havenwood, Julia. We’re a collection of oddities, the whole lot of us. You’re the most normal person among us.”
I thought of Mrs. Sinclair dressed in full riding gear the day before, and somehow managed a chuckle.
“But you did look terrified just now,” he went on, leading me up the grand staircase. “And that’s no laughing matter. I’ll make you this promise, Julia. You are safe here at Havenwood. Whatever it was that you saw, or thought you saw, it’s not going to hurt you.”
Somehow, I believed him. This man I barely knew had such a way of making me feel calm and secure.
“You need to promise me something in return, however,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“No more running outside into the snow,” he said. “Seriously, Julia. Night is falling. It’s going to be below zero tonight, and you were out there without so much as a coat. What if I hadn’t come upon you when I did?”
I truly didn’t know the answer to that. I hadn’t been thinking clearly; that was obvious. I wondered what sort of horrible situation I might have gotten myself into out there in the frozen woods, alone.
“You need to promise me you’re not going to do that again,” he pressed. “Please, Julia. This is why I made sure you knew you could come to the stable at any time. If ever you feel like you have to get out of this house, and believe me, we all feel that way at times, come to the stable. That’s your refuge, night or day. Do not attempt to leave the property on your own. It’s too dangerous. Can you promise me that?”
“I guess so,” I said.
“If you really want to leave Havenwood,” he continued, “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Agreed?”
I smiled at him. “Agreed.”
By the time we reached my room on the third floor, I was completely calmed and feeling slightly chagrined.
“I’m really sorry about this,” I said to him as we stood together in the hallway by my door. “You must think…” My words melted into a sigh.
“Not at all,” he said, giving my arm a squeeze. “Are you going to be all right here? I’ve got some things to attend to before dinner.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“Anytime, Julia. Anytime.”
Back inside my room, I found that Marion had finished with the dresses and gone, somehow leaving a snack of crackers, cheeses, and figs and a pitcher of water with lemon on the nightstand. Perfect. I hadn’t realized it, but I was starving.
I nibbled on some cheese and opened the door to the walk-in closet to take a look at the dresses—just the thing to put that embarrassing episode out of my mind. They were hanging in neat rows of teals, purples, blacks, and deep reds, each more beautiful than the last. They were old-fashioned and lovely, like something out of another place and time—which, I assumed, they were. Some were slim sheaths with plunging necklines and low backs, their fabrics glittering and shimmering. Others were more modest, with full skirts and cap sleeves. Accents of lace and pearls and embroidery adorned them. To me, they looked like something Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn would have worn—I had never owned anything like them. I hoped they’d be at least close to my size.
I noticed shoes standing beneath the dresses, delicate heels and flats. I slipped my foot into one of them—a perfect fit.
On top of the dresser sat a jewelry box that hadn’t been there before. It was open, revealing strands of pearls, long silver chains, and dangling earrings.
I was excited to play dress-up in these clothes, whomever they had originally belonged to, and glide down the grand staircase to the formal dinner that awaited me in a few hours. It occurred to me that the same thing had been done at Havenwood for more than one hundred years—guests dressing for dinner and joining their hosts for drinks in front of the fire. It gave me a sense of timelessness that I couldn’t quite define. I was at once in the present and the past, and they were both the same. I wondered if Havenwood had that effect on everyone.
I poured myself a glass of water, grabbed the copy of Rebecca, and headed to the bathroom, where I found a steaming-hot tub of scented water and several candles flickering here and there. Again, perfect. That Marion really had a knack of knowing just what to do, I thought. “Thank you, Marion,” I whispered into the air, and peeled off my sweater and jeans.
Before I slipped into the claw-foot tub, a thought knocked at the corners of my mind, interrupting the serenity of the moment. Our “visitor.” Had he got what he wanted? Would he be back?
I pushed aside the curtains and peeked out the bathroom window. I’m not sure what I was looking for—more footprints in the snow? A man lurking around? But what I saw surprised me.
Adrian and Drew were standing with a third man, whom I had never seen before. They were looking toward the forest where Drew and I had found the campsite, and Drew was talking to both of them. That was when I saw the third man was carrying a rifle. I watched as he walked off into the woods, and Drew and Adrian went their separate ways, Drew toward the stable and Adrian toward the house.
I slipped into the steaming water, wondering what all that was about.
TWENTY
The bath was perfect. The spicy scent of the water tickled my nose and filled my lungs with calmness. I breathed in and out, releasing the day’s tension with each exhale. Whatever I had seen, or hadn’t seen, in the east salon faded away. And I would think about our “visitor” another time. It looked as though Drew and Adrian had it handled, at least for the moment. I tried to put it out of my mind and relax.
I opened one of the books and began to read, but I made it through only a couple of chapters before my eyes started feeling heavy. Not wanting to drop the old volume in the water, I set it on the window ledge next to me and lay back, sinking down farther.
I closed my eyes and submerged, listening to the rush of water in my ears, the soft hum soothing me like a mantra.
But then the hum disappeared. I heard voices in its place. Or did I? I shot up and grabbed a hand towel for my face, and listened. Two female voices, I was sure of it. There were two people in my bedroom. And I hadn’t locked the bathroom door.
Was it Marion, with another woman, back to tend further to the dresses? That had to be it. Still, I wasn’t comfortable being in the bath with them on the other side of an unlocked door, so I slipped out of the water and into the plush terry cloth robe that was hanging on a hook nearby. As I wrapped it around me, I heard giggling.
“What will you wear tonight?”
“I am still unsure. The blue one? What do you think? Will I please him in this one?”
What was going on? That certainly wasn’t Marion’s voice. I opened the door to see two women, neither of whom I recognized. Several dresses were lying on the bed, and one of the women was holding a blue gown up to her face. “Does this favor my eye
s?”
“Who are you?” I asked, stalking out into the bedroom in as threatening a manner as I could muster while wearing a bathrobe. “Why are you in my suite?”
The women both gasped when they saw me, one of them putting a hand to her mouth to muffle a scream. She dropped the blue dress… and then they were gone. They simply dissipated, like steam rising above a lake on a chilly morning. Just like the figures in the paintings.
I blinked several times, not quite knowing what I had just seen, and pulled the robe tighter around me. I had attributed these “sightings” to my going off my medication abruptly. But after the scene in the east salon… Was that what was going on? Or was it something else?
Somehow, the vision of these two women didn’t frighten me like the others did—they were just two girls getting ready for a formal dinner, just like I’d be doing shortly. Maybe that was it, I reasoned. I had been feeling a sense of timelessness when Marion had brought me the dresses, and maybe, my imagination working overtime, combined with the lack of medication…
I sighed and didn’t know what to think. One minute, I was fleeing in terror from this house after seeing something I couldn’t explain. The next minute, a similar vision wasn’t fazing me in the least. Maybe I was going crazy after all.
“Which one favors my eyes?” I said into the air. And then I headed back into the bathroom to finish my soak, careful to lock the door behind me.
Much too early to dress for dinner, I pulled on jeans and a turtleneck and slid my feet into my slippers. I thought I’d go looking for Adrian and ask him not only about what news, if any, he had heard about the fire, but also if he had found out anything about our intruder.
I slipped out the door and padded down the hallway toward the study I had found the day before. One peek inside revealed it was empty, but I did notice the black phone was gone. Marion’s handiwork, no doubt. She didn’t want me making calls, so she made sure I wouldn’t be making them.
Where to look now? The drawing room, maybe? I made my way back down the hall to the grand stairway and intended to go to the main floor, but stopped at the second-floor landing. This was the floor where the family’s rooms were located, I recalled. I knew Marion had told me to stay away from them, but maybe I could find Adrian in his personal study—if indeed he had one.
