by Lani Lenore
He hadn’t forgotten what had happened last night. He’d seen the shadow of someone watching them through the crack in the wall just as well as she had, but Celia had been terrified whereas Adam had been enraged. Whoever had come into her room on the first night had entered once again on the second, only to find that she was not there. He must have heard her soft sighs through the wall and come to peer through, but when Adam had yelled, he’d dashed away. But who had it been? Was Celia’s assumption right that it was that frightful man, Baltus? Adam wasn’t sure, but he could easily see how it might have been any one of the men in the house. He didn’t trust any of them, and he took the advances on Celia as a personal insult.
The thoughts boiled within him, summoning notions of rage, but his mind cleared when he slipped toward the entrance hall, and the large front doors of the structure came into view.
Past those doors, I’ll be able to have a look at the grounds and get a much-needed breath of fresh air. God knows I need it. He was looking forward to it, and he began to walk faster as he approached the door. The possibility of being seen slipped from his care as his feet worked to take him past the open archways that led into the dining room and a parlor on opposite sides of the hall—
“I’m so tired,” a woman’s voice said, and Adam halted immediately, on the verge of crossing in front of the room that those words had drifted out from.
“Have you been resting like I instructed you? There’s not much else you can do for it now.”
Another voice—a man’s—came to him from within the room, and Adam’s heart pumped ferociously. He’d nearly gotten himself caught. He pressed his back into the wall, positioning himself carefully before he dared to lean forward ever so slightly and peek into the room. With hardly any turn at all, he was able to see Anjessica slouched on a settee, breathing lightly as her eyes closed halfway, both hands on her large stomach. Leaning forward a bit more, he saw the man who had spoken. He was standing by the window with his back to the door, looking out at the rain with his hands clasped behind him, and Adam did not have to struggle to recognize him. The speckled and rather dry skin of his bald head was enough to tell him that it was Baltus. Noting their positions, Adam withdrew himself so that he couldn’t be seen. His eyes shifted to the front entrance, so close and yet unreachable.
He considered why he was so afraid of being seen as he snuck around the house, wondering what a pregnant woman and an older man could possibly do to hinder him, but then he remembered Celia upstairs, and he thought of the rain. If they left the house, there would be no turning back, and they might soon find death in the mountain wilderness. There was no sense in stirring trouble. Adam thought through his options, but hadn’t decided upon anything before his thoughts slipped and he became stuck on the conversation that started up within the room.
“Why doesn’t he care, Baltus?” Anjessica asked. Her voice was soft and passive, sounding worn even though she was young. “I’ve tried to do everything I could to make him happy. Everything, only for him. Irving refuses to see my devotion. He doesn’t care about his own child.”
“His child?” Baltus interrupted, his voice echoing across the room. “We both know that is not a true statement. Do not call it what it isn’t.”
There was a bit of reproach in the man’s voice as he uttered these words, but he did not turn from the window to look at her. His voice was far away. What did he mean? Baltus aimed to claim the child for his own? The young wife of the master’s son was having an affair with his decaying uncle? That was ridiculous—and pointless toward Adam’s plight.
Why am I listening to this?
“Do you know that he hasn’t even seen how terrible my belly looks? That is how much attention he pays to me.” There was a bit more power in Anjessica’s voice as she said this. It was pushed by anger.
“When you came to me, begging for this chance, I knew it would do you no good. I tried to warn you against it, but you would not listen to me. Your desperate need for his attention may cost you your life.”
Baltus’s tone held no sympathy for the woman’s situation, and when she replied to him, her voice was a growl.
“I chose to carry this child, and I will bear it if it kills me.”
“I suppose it is good that you feel that way.”
There was silence for a while after that, and Adam stood there by the door, unsure of what he wished to do. He did not care to hear all about the family scandals; they had nothing to do with him, but if he dared to cross the doorway, they would see him. He cast his eyes longingly toward the door, and then his brow furrowed with his frustration. Through the windows alongside the entrance, the gray light of day was becoming stronger through the rain. Other members of the manor would be rising soon, and he could not be standing by the parlor whenever Anjessica and Baltus decided to exit.
Adam sighed, rolling his head back toward the way he had come. His body followed, turning him grudgingly back upstairs. He had to give up for now, and he couldn’t help but wonder if everything he might attempt would be botched somehow. The voices from within the parlor followed him away, and though he caught the words, he didn’t give them much mind.
“I suppose it will be any day now…”
“You should prepare yourself—but don’t expect Irving to care about what you birth. Nothing less than a god will suit him.”
Adam made his way back to the room where he’d left Celia, not taking as much care to sneak along as he had when leaving it. Within his thoughts, he couldn’t help but suspect that Baltus and Anjessica were sitting in that front room just to see if he and Celia would try to leave the house—but that was almost too much. Perhaps there was such a thing as being overly suspicious, and he had met that level.
There are some things that just aren’t probable, he scolded himself. I have to think realistically. Why should the family craft their lives around us?
Getting himself back to the third floor, he turned down the hallway which led to his room, but his body hesitated, his legs locking, when he saw the figure standing outside his door. One of those maids was there, facing the door with her nose only inches away from the wood, but she was not moving to enter the room. She simply stared straight at the wood, blinking at it, and he wasn’t sure how she could even focus on the grain that close. He moved forward, confused as to why this woman had frozen herself just short of running into the obstruction. The maid did not move. The toes of her shoes were nearly touching the base of the door, and she did not seem to notice him as he came closer.
“What are you doing?” he asked, hearing that his tone was intolerant. That was just how he felt.
He wasn’t sure that the maid would respond to him, as interested as she was in the pattern of the wood, but slowly, she turned her head toward the sound of his voice. As her eyes aligned with his, he saw a familiar little smile rising up at the corners of her thin mouth, and there was no question of which twin this was. She was the one he was never sure what to expect from.
“The young lady is not in her room,” Luci said to him, her flat voice tinged with a bit of pleasure.
“Don’t be concerned with that,” he insisted to her firmly.
“But it is my concern, sir. It is my duty to help keep up with you and the young lady.”
She turned herself from the door to face him, but did not shift out of his way.
“And why has that been made your duty?”
Adam stared at her, waiting for her to make some innocent remark that was meant to jab at him, but she remained silent, as if she might not have heard. Despite his understanding that this maid was not his concern as long as she got out of his way, he couldn’t help himself. He had to figure her out.
“What are you thinking right now?”
The little smile did not falter. “It is to your good fortune that you decided to come along when you did. Won’t you and the young lady come down for breakfast this morning, sir?” She said it all levelly, running from one thought to the next with no change in her to
ne. The woman was unreal—and he’d had enough.
“I’m going to decline that offer. Tell your masters we won’t be joining them.”
“As you say, sir,” she said, bowing her head to him and finally turning away from the door.
Luci walked away, and Adam lingered there with his hand on the door handle, watching her go. She was odd—terribly odd. He waited for her to disappear around the corner before he was able to open the door of the room, wondering about what the maid had said—“It is to your good fortune that you decided to come along when you did.” What did she mean? He wasn’t sure he could have guessed if it was important to his life.
He directed his eyes and thoughts to the room that opened up before him—which he noted had been unlocked, contrary to how he’d left it. Feeling somewhat anxious that Celia would not be there, his mind was eased quickly, for she was not difficult to locate. She was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, buttoning up short boots, and jerked with a start when he stepped into the room. She was laced up in a dress of pale blue that made her sapphire eyes stand out. Her long hair was pulled behind her, bound at the base of her neck in a long tail.
“There you are,” she said when she recognized him, sounding relieved. “I was worried.”
She pulled herself up quickly and came to meet him, but stopped short of wrapping her arms around his neck. Adam noticed that while she appeared rested after her long sleep, her eyes were wide and alert. She held her hands level with her waist, wringing them together anxiously.
“I tried to have a look around outside, but didn’t get far, I’m afraid,” he said, not willing to explain why he’d tried to do that without her. “Was Luci in to see you?”
“One of the maids was, but I do believe it was Margot,” she said. “I was embarrassed for her to find me in your room, but it was strange: she didn’t seem to think that it was scandalous that I was here. She didn’t have any sort of reaction like she had last night, I mean. She brought me clothes.”
He didn’t think Margot’s changed behavior was significant, and was somehow glad that Luci had not been into the room.
It’s your good fortune… He shook it away.
“I met Luci in the hall,” he said, planning not to trouble Celia with a report on the maid’s strangeness. “She asked us to come down to breakfast, but I refused.”
Celia looked up at him with confusion, but she did not question his reasoning. He would have imagined it would suit her just fine not to take food with the rest of them this morning.
“Are we going to—” She paused; then lowered her voice. “Do you mean for us to try to leave?”
“The weather is still wet,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a better look around. And while everyone is at breakfast and the maids are waiting the table…” He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the ring of keys. “I thought we might have a look inside that room.”
Chapter Ten
Luci’s slow, deliberate footsteps took her toward the dining room with unwavering focus. Her feet rolled from heel to toe with every paced movement until she was before the open door. When she reached it, she went through without announcement and stopped just inside. Irving was seated there at the long table—as the only one of the family who was present—sipping a steaming cup of tea and reading some sort of article that could not have been very recent. The post was never swift in delivering letters up the mountain, but that was not Luci’s concern at this time. She looked directly at the man and made sure her posture was correct before addressing him.
“The young gentleman and lady have refused breakfast, sir.”
She watched intently as Irving took his cup from the saucer beside him and brought it to his mouth, slurping past a muted tongue. Luci remained silent and still, awaiting an order and discharge, but she would not retreat until the word was spoken.
“Very well then,” Irving said finally, not even bothering to raise his eyes. He set the cup back down and put his hands to his papers once again. Luci thought it might be interesting to sip tea and read a letter, but the idea slipped from her when she realized she may have overlooked her dismissal. Believing her job to be complete, Luci turned away from him, but then his rising voice caught her in step.
“Oh, and Luci?”
The maid stopped herself, turning back to direct her face and body toward the man, awaiting his order.
“Do be a dear and check the exits,” he said, lifting his cup once again. “Assure me that they are barred so that the young lady and gentleman’s keys will not work.”
“Yes, sir,” the maid said with a faint smile that expressed the mildest pleasure. She turned then and left him.
The hallways were as empty as they’d been on any night, and though there was a greater possibility that she and Adam might be seen wandering about, Celia felt much safer in the daytime. She didn’t fear the one who had snuck into her room beneath the darkness, and even the maids seemed less likely to frighten her with reprimands. Another blessing was that Adam was with her, and nothing else could quite account for that. He followed behind her now as she made her way slowly to the locked door near her room, clutching the keys in her fist.
It was their arrangement that she would look into the room while Adam lingered in the hallway to watch for intrusion, but every step she took closer to the door rushed greater dread into her stomach. She was, finally, about to look into the room that had made her so curious, and now that she was here, on the verge, she realized that she was completely terrified. She thought of all the things that had disturbed her thus far—Baltus’s frightful stare, the intruder in her room, Anjessica’s rotten womb, the realization that the shadows were the bars of a cage—and she wondered if what she truly wanted was to forget about the whole thing. Even as she stepped up to the door and tried the first key, she had not quite made up her mind. Her hands were unsteady as she pushed in the second key, struggling to get it into the lock, and when it did not turn, she was slightly relieved. The third key she tried was not as sensitive to her plight, and she stopped short when it began to turn in the lock.
I can’t do this.
“The halls are clear. Go ahead,” Adam said from behind her, and she wondered if he was getting impatient with her hesitation. It was true that she could not stand there contemplating her resolve for very long.
Celia nodded at his words, but when she looked back down at the key, she was frozen by the same hesitation. Had this room become so guarded to her mind that she no longer had the desire to open it?
“Do you want me to look instead?” Adam asked, and though it may have been something to consider, she felt that she should do it herself. She only needed to summon the courage.
“No, I’ll go,” she said without looking back at him, and those words led her to undo the lock. The thick door drifted inward slightly before she’d even placed her hand upon it. Knowing that if she hesitated any further she might change her mind, Celia took a deep breath and pushed into the room.
The smell was atrocious—like waste, urine, poor hygiene—but nevertheless she had to close herself in. It was dark inside, the windows having been covered by drapes of cloth to keep out the daylight, but there were two lanterns in the room, their small flames covered by glass domes. One was behind the door, and the other sat on a table to her left. She realized that those two sources of light were what had placed the pattern of the bars on the wall, crossing them to form angles.
She remembered the dream she’d had, of coming into this room and finding all the bird and animal cages, and while the room did not look exactly as it had in her vision, the similarities were striking. There was an old rusted birdcage hanging above her head, and a few rectangular cages stacked atop each other against the wall. There was a flat wooden cot against the wall which didn’t look very clean or comfortable—and that smell! The sickening odors were making her feel dizzy and ill, as if her stomach might reject acid any moment. Had something died here recently, after many months of being locked awa
y?
Celia bunched her sleeve around her hand and held it to her face, hoping that would protect her from the smell enough that she wouldn’t faint. As far as this room was concerned, it was definitely strange and horrible, but she couldn’t make much more of it than what it was. It was a room with a terrible smell, which was filled with cages. The lit lanterns indicated that someone came in and out of the room regularly, but Celia herself had seen those maids come inside here more than once. What was the purpose of that? What—?
She turned her head, peering over the room. She had seen something long and dark against the east wall, but she had thought that it was a table or a trunk until she looked directly at it. From the glow of the lantern that was behind the door, the impression of dark wood was actually a blanket of thick fibers spread over something rectangular.
It’s a coffin, she thought.
She moved closer to it, adding her other hand to her face in order to protect her nose and mouth from the smell. Leaning down, she gathered a portion of the dirty cloth, inching it up slowly to have a look beneath. A little whimper escaped her throat as she began to fear what she would find, realizing that what she hoped was a trunk was actually another cage. Her heart was throbbing nearly to the point of ache. She could see a bit of cloth near to the edge of the cage, which led on to reveal some unknown portion of what resembled human flesh.
Oh God… Her hand shook as she eased up the dark blanket—and the sudden appearance of a staring eye made her realize that she was looking at a face.
The sight of the eye’s rounded, bloodshot appearance made her fall back onto the floor as the human inside the cage began to squawk like a great bird. The cloth fell back over her face, but that did not stop her strained voice.
