CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I stare at the letter for a long moment before carefully placing it back in the box. I stare out the office window at the road beyond and think about what it might mean.

Lady Alivia complained about ghosts coming for her. She heard the cries just as I do. Just as Lady Cordelia does. Just like Lady Cordelia, she believed the ghosts were persecuting her, threatening her life. It is quite possible that Lady Alivia took her own life, pushed to it by her fear and the belief that there was no escape.

In Alivia’s case, this attitude is easily explained by the fact that she was a drug addict. Lady Cordelia doesn’t mention what sort of drugs Lady Alivia used, but it’s a fair bet that it was some sort of powerful narcotic. Paranoid fantasies often accompany withdrawals from narcotics, and that paranoia can sometimes be strong enough to bring delusions and psychotic breaks.

But Lady Cordelia is suffering nearly the same symptoms, and she doesn’t use drugs. I suppose I don’t know that for sure, but I don’t see any of the physical symptoms of heavy drug use. She’s still beautiful, and her skin is still firm and supple, at least as far as I can tell. Drugs have a tendency to ravage a person, and for Lady Cordelia to suffer mentally the way she is, she would have had to be a heavy user for some time.

So what is it, then? The cries of the ghosts? If that’s the case, then why am I not also driven to insanity? I have actually suffered a psychotic break in the past, and insofar as ghosts are echoes of traumatic memories, I am haunted by my sister and to a lesser extent, my parents. So why am I able to rationalize the cries I hear, but Lady Cordelia isn’t?

I suppose I could be reading too much into this. I might be struggling to make things make sense that don’t necessarily need to make sense. What does this letter tell me for certain? It tells me that in her last days, Alivia heard voices and was in fear of death.

Just like Lady Cordelia.

I catch sight of movement through the window and look through to see the van returning. That’s odd. I would have expected them to spend the night at the hospital. Perhaps Theresa is returning with the servants.

But in Doctor Thornton’s van?

Either way, my snooping is done. I quickly replace the letters and place the shoebox back in its spot atop the refrigerator. I ensure the filing cabinet is locked, then leave the study, closing the door on my way out.

I arrive downstairs just before the front door opens. I am surprised to see that everyone has returned, including Dr. Thornton. It seems Oliver was the only person left at the hospital.

I frown quizzically at Theresa, but it is Doctor Thornton who explains. “Master Oliver has been sedated. He will sleep for the evening. In the morning, I will return to the hospital, and Lord and Lady Blackwood will arrive whenever they wish and stay for as long as they like.”

“Thank you for sharing our plans, Doctor Thornton,” Lord Blackwood says drily. “Yes, unfortunately, in our haste, the Lady Cordelia neglected to pack certain necessities. We will enjoy dinner here and return in the morning, as Doctor Thornton said.”

“I’ll get dinner started,” Theresa says, rushing toward the kitchen with Franny and Matilda in tow.

All three women are pale and appear exhausted. I’m not sure if it’s because of fear for Oliver or the tension of spending the past two hours with Lord Edmund and a rapidly deteriorating Lady Cordelia.

And she is deteriorating. She is pale and shaking, and she mutters under her breath. Lord Edmund leads her up the stairs, and she seems barely aware it’s happening. I greet her, and she doesn’t even turn to me.

Lord Edmund does, though. He fixes a look on me so cold and so hateful that I nearly wither in my boots.

But rather than discourage me, that look galvanizes me. I will discover the truth whether Lord Edmund likes it or not. And if what I discover proves that his Lordship is a murderer, then I will turn him over to Inspector Hargreaves.

At least Oliver is safe. I can take some comfort in that. He is finally receiving the treatment he needs, and he is away from this cursed castle. I am upset that I couldn’t see him when he was hospitalized, but I will make time to visit him soon.

***

When Lady Cordelia returns downstairs for dinner, she looks somewhat better. She still appears utterly exhausted, but she is aware of her surroundings now and responds when people talk to her.

Lord Edmund looks tired for the first time since I’ve seen them. The impenetrable wall he puts up is weakening, and the tired old man grappling with debt, Parliament, legal trouble and family health issues shows his face. It’s comforting to know that he’s human too.

Doctor Thornton is the only one among us who is close to good spirits. He is somber and respectful of Lord Edmund’s and Lady Blackwood’s concerns, but he is far more relaxed than he is when he first arrives. Perhaps, like me, he is relieved that Oliver is finally getting the treatment he needs.

For all of this, the tension at the table is thick enough to be cut with a knife. Lady Cordelia’s shoulders are stiff, and her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Lord Edmund is tired, but behind that exhaustion is an undercurrent of disdain for seemingly everyone.

Theresa and I share a sober look as we serve dinner. I will be dining with the servants tonight.

We are just about to serve the last of the appetizers when a howl whines through the castle. Like all of the other noises the storms and winds bring, this howl sounds like the plaintive cry of a woman.

I look through the window in the dining room and see rain starting to fall. At least I’m not imagining the storm this time.

That memory causes me to frown. It occurs to me that I haven’t been keeping my wits about me any better than Lady Cordelia has. What is it about this house that is driving all of us mad?

Another howl sounds, and Theresa and I share a grim look. Those howls, whatever they are, always come as evil omens. What new horror could they be announcing now?

That question is answered a moment later when an ear-splitting shriek comes from Lady Cordelia. We rush from the kitchen, appetizers forgotten, and watch in horror as she leaps to her feet and shrieks, “Go away! Go away, damn it!”

“Cordelia!” Lord Edmund shouts. “There’s no one there!”

He tries to restrain her, and she shrieks and pulls free from his grasp. “It’s your fucking wife!” she shouts. “That bitch, Evelyn! She’s the one trying to kill me!”

Lord Edmund flinches. Doctor Thornton carefully moves his seat away from his Lordship.

“Cordelia,” Lord Edmund says, his voice low and deadly. “That is enough. Evelyn is dead.”

“And she’s come back for me!” Cordelia insists.

Tears stream down her cheeks, and there’s a wild look in her eyes.

“Cordelia, sit the hell down!” Lord Edmund thunders. “I’ve had enough! Ghosts and legends and cries and storms: it’s driven all of you daft! My governess is snooping in my library, my servants whisper about Sarah’s ghost, and now my wife is bringing up Lady Evelyn. Enough! No one is haunting you!”

“Yes, they are!” Cordelia shrieks. “Yes. They. Are!”

She punctuates that last word by hurling a water glass at his Lordship. The rest of us cry out and move away. Lady Cordelia stands there, weeping, just as shocked as we are at her outburst but unwilling or maybe even unable to take it back.

His Lordship calmly pats at the water and commands, “Go to bed, Cordelia.”

Cordelia takes a deep breath, then says in a small tone. “Will you come to bed with me?”

“I’m bloody well fixed at the moment, aren’t I?” Lord Edmund thunders, unable to maintain his calm. “Go to bed, and I’ll be there when I’ve finished here.”

“I’ll take her to bed,” Theresa volunteers, rushing forward to help Lady Cordelia from the room. “I’ll get some warm blankets and a nice spot of tea, and everything will be all—”

“Just do it, Theresa,” Lord Edmund says, rubbing his eyes. “For the love of God, just do it.”

“Right away, my lord.”

She leads Lady Cordelia away, leaving me, his Lordship and Doctor Thornton.

Doctor Thornton breaks the silence. “Begging your pardon, Lord Edmund, but if the Lady Cordelia’s condition is this advanced, perhaps she should be placed somewhere she can be cared for properly.”

Lord Edmund stares at him in amazement. He stares at me, then laughs and stares at the doctor again. Thornton turns to me and flames beet red but doesn’t apologize for his statement.

Lord Edmund breaks the brief silence. “You just want to hospitalize my entire family, don’t you? Hell, why not me too?” My back’s been sore lately. Maybe I should go to your office and bend over so you can line it up right for me, eh, Doctor?”

In his anger, Lord Edmund is losing his bearing. Dr. Thornton swallows and says, “I apologize, my lord. It wasn’t appropriate for me to discuss Lady Cordelia’s health in front of the servants.”

"It wasn't appropriate for you to discuss it at all. You're Master Oliver's doctor, not Lady Cordelia's. For God's sake, what's been going on here? Has everyone gone daft? Mary, for the love of God, why are you still in my dining room."

I flinch. “I’m sorry, Lord Edmund. I came to check on the Lady Cordelia. I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

“Oh, to hell with it,” Lord Edmund grouses. “Dinner’s ruined anyway. I live in a house full of madwomen.”

He stalks out of the room and upstairs, presumably to tend to Lady Cordelia. Outside, lightning flashes, and a moment later, thunder rumbles and the long, mournful howl of the wind echoes through the house.

I clear the plates while Dr. Thornton stares down at his own plate. After several minutes, he gives me a brief dejected smile, then leaves the table, and I am alone.

I bring the dishes to Franny and Matilda. Their faces are ashen, and no words are exchanged between us as they begin to wash. I return to my own room, trying to make sense of the collapse I’ve just witnessed.

It’s Lord Edmund’s behavior that I find most interesting. His reaction when Lady Cordelia brought up Evelyn was quite shocking. Almost as though he was frightened. But of what? What could the memory of his dead wife conjure up that would frighten his lordship? What does Lady Cordelia know that Lord Edmund fears she may let slip?

I dress for bed, but I already know I won’t sleep that night. I will only lay awake waiting for the opportunity to learn what I must.

As the storm rages outside, it beckons me. I know exactly where I must go to learn more.

Tonight, I will find answers.