4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

S he danced.

For the first time, Wilhelmina Fairweather danced in the ballroom of Haven House. It had been to a slow minuet, which she had taught herself how to do long ago with nothing more than an imaginary partner. Alone in her room, she had learned all kinds of dances, thinking there would never be an opportunity to show off her abilities.

Lying in bed, with the party over hours earlier, she smiled up at the ceiling as she relived every tiny detail of the evening.

The feel of her arm secured in Noah’s muscular one.

The heat of his body as they made their way downstairs.

The shocked looks in the hall and the way the crowd parted to let them pass as if it were Moses himself escorting her to the promised land.

“Chin up, and eyes ahead,” Noah had whispered when they made their way through the gauntlet of curious onlookers. “Don’t let them see you afraid.”

He meant her family. The disapproving glare of her mother could be felt like an arrow. Her father’s stare, like an ax. Bonnie watched with concern, all of them afraid she would make a scene by having a breathing episode. Of course, if she did, then they would be required to act since they very well couldn’t allow her to drop dead in the presence of guests.

Doing as Noah said, Willa found herself drawing strength from his belief in her. She couldn’t ever recall another soul thinking that maybe, just maybe, she deserved to have a little fun without the worry of her lungs getting in the way.

And she did indeed have fun.

Entering the ballroom, the crowds continued to part. Her sister had been off in the corner, keeping Mr. Richards entertained. When Lucy saw them, she openly gasped in delight and even dragged Mr. Richards out to join in on the dance with her and Noah.

Noah .

Once the music played and the dance began, there had been nothing but him. In the full light of the candlelit ballroom, he had quite simply enchanted her with his charming nature. Most would call her melodramatic for saying such a thing, but it was true. Noah’s charm radiated from within, seducing her with its power long after the party had ended.

Turning to her side, she cuddled into the pillow, sighing as heavily as Lucy had earlier in the evening. It was wrong to think of Noah like this. Nothing would become of her infatuation, and it would make their sessions together awkward.

But it didn’t matter. As he escorted her back to that hellish spot on the stairs, Noah chatted and—in his own way—flirted. It had been a surprise, but once she reminded herself he was merely being kind, she relaxed, and their banter flowed. It turned out he was not totally set on leaving the area, debating between working for his family or returning north to open his own practice.

“The workers need available medical care, especially if there is an emergency, but I don’t know that I’m the man for it,” he’d said, lingering with her on the stairs long after the dance ended. “I enjoy the city. The noise. The people. Everyone is always in a hurry to get somewhere and nowhere all at once. ”

Willa admitted she didn’t know of such things. “I’ve read about them... lived the lives of thousands of people through the pages of my books, but I’m sure I’ll never experience it for myself.”

“Never say never, Ms. Fairweather.”

Never say never? Such faith he had.

In life.

In the future.

Probably because he had one.

Yawning, she listened to the pitter-patter of rain against her windows. Dawn was approaching, and while the wet season might be on its way out, the rumble of thunder and the violent flash of lightning across her windows told her that Mother Nature was setting the stage for yet another day inside Haven House.

No matter. In her mind, she danced again with Noah, the beat of their movements set to the downpour. He had been so attentive, acting as a proper dance partner should.

On their second dream waltz, her eyelids grew heavy, and she gave in to sleep, allowing it to whisk her into a world not her own. A place where she danced every dance and ran the streets of large cities with a trail of friends at her side.

Friends.

Friends were something she had never possessed. Her sisters were her confidants, the lifelines that kept her sane. Lucy functioned as her sounding board, but Grace… Grace had been Willa’s everything. Gracious and kind, with a laugh that burrowed right into the heart, Grace was missed every second of the day.

A muffled thump startled Willa awake, and she lay in the dark for a moment, trying to discern where the noise had come from. No cats were in the room, and it didn’t appear that Lucy had snuck in as she sometimes did when scared during a storm.

Another thump struck, more distinct than before, and Willa sat up, listening intently. It was coming from Grace’s old bedroom next door, which was odd as no one used it. No one even entered it anymore. Seeing it empty was too painful, and only Bonnie went in to clean the cobwebs and dust every now and then.

When yet another knock hit the wall, Willa tossed her blankets aside and turned the lamp on her bedside table up to give the room light. The noise was most certainly coming from next door.

Tentatively, she went to the wall and placed her ear against it, thinking she was dealing with a group of wayward cats. If her mother found them upstairs making mischief in Grace’s room, there would be hell to pay.

There was more shuffling, and with the side of her face pressed completely against the cold wall, a soft, feminine moan greeted her.

With a gasp, Willa straightened. No one would dare. No one. Not even a drunken party guest needing rest for the night would dare use Grace’s room. They knew better. The eldest Fairweather daughter’s absence continued to echo through the halls of Haven House, and to desecrate her private space would be unthinkable.

Another moan carried over, but then it transformed into…

Was that a giggle?

And singing?

Returning to press her ear to the wall again, she attempted to make out the words, but there were none. Just a sweet melody. One Willa had heard hundreds of times before and sung in the same manner.

“Grace?”

Impossible .

And yet.

She hurried over to where her robe hung, flinging it on like a mad woman to rush out. She didn’t bother with her lamp, not needing light to guide her way to Grace’s room. The full moon would do the job, illuminating the landing by shining through the large rear window facing the forest.

But on the landing, the singing stopped, and Willa stood barefoot, listening for more.

Across the landing, Lucy’s door opened. “Willa?” she whispered. “What are you doing? ”

“Did you hear singing?”

Bundling her own robe tighter, Lucy stepped out of her room. “Singing?”

“From Grace’s room.”

Lucy shrunk a little, sadness making her look like a small child. “Grace isn’t singing, Willa.”

She knew that, but…

“I heard her.” Willa insisted. “I heard someone singing.”

“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

Exasperated, Willa shushed her, thinking she might have heard it again. “Yes, I’m sure.”

And there it was. The faint melody sung countless times by Grace.

Lucy heard it, too, and she paled in the ghostly moonlight. “Who is in there?”

They would never know, for as they darted in the direction of the singing, their mother’s door began to open, and they were forced to retreat to their rooms quickly.

With her door locked and secured, Willa waited for signs of Margaret coming her way but heard nothing.

Nothing but the singing.

It was louder than before.

Lighter.

As if it were floating down from above.

Willa’s chest pumped wildly in terror, and she remained cognizant of her breathing, but that wasn’t saying much. A lion could be charging her in the wilds of Africa, and even then, she would remain cognizant of her breathing.

A pulse of lightning hit, illuminating the ceiling to reveal there was nothing up there.

And how ridiculous for her to think that there was. Of course, there was nothing up there. It must be Bonnie next door singing, for who else could it be ?

A crash of thunder exploded, abruptly silencing the haunting song. Caught off guard, Willa stifled a scream and waited for it to pick up again.

But it never did.