Chapter 39

A knock sounds at my bedroom door as I finish tying the sash on my black and gray sweater wrap dress for a date night with Maxwell.

My husband is taking me out on a public date. I can’t stop grinning with glee.

“Come in!”

Agnes steps in, her face severe as always, her hands clasped together. “Ms. Belle.”

I swallow a sigh. It’s been months of the same strained treatment and nothing I do seems to make her like me. But she’s good at her job, managing the day-to-day chores around the mansion so I don’t need to be bothered with many things.

“How can I help you, Agnes?” I try to smile but am afraid I look like one of those scary clowns at the circus instead.

She narrows her eyes before clearing her throat. “I see you and Sir Maxwell have grown…fond of each other.”

I arch my brow. She is walking on thin ice. Very thin ice.

“I was Ms. Julianna’s lady’s maid when she was alive.” Her nostrils flare and she looks away. “She was a wonderful woman.”

Agnes lets out a sigh before facing me again. “I know you think we’re all superstitious about the curse. But you weren’t here when she died. You didn’t see how it tore the house apart. And now, Sir Maxwell seems to be smitten with you. But if you want him to be happy, I think you should keep your distance. ”

My mouth drops open and I stand up, anger bursting through me. How dare she talk about my relationship with Maxwell like we are friends or something?

“Agnes, that is way out of line and I’m not going to—”

“Sometimes, the truth is the hardest to hear. But someone has to say it.” She spins around and walks toward the door before pausing at the threshold.

Her throat works as she turns toward me, her dark eyes piercing. “I apologize for overstepping, but I can’t stand by and watch history repeat itself.”

She closes the door with a soft click.

I grit my teeth, fury singeing my insides. How dare she? I won’t put up with this behavior. I’m going to talk to Maxwell and we’ll start searching for a new housekeeper.

Knock. Knock.

My gaze whips toward the door. It had better not be her coming back in here. I won’t let her walk all over me, even if she grovels.

“Yes?” I grit out.

Melody traipses in, her smile slipping off her face as she takes in my expression. “What’s wrong, Belle? You look like you want to murder someone.”

Blowing out a breath, I reply, “It’s Agnes. She drives me absolutely crazy. Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, ‘walk all over me’?”

Melody snorts and sits on my bed. Even though we are still in a boss/employee capacity, she’s become a good friend, and I’m glad I have someone who understands the family as well as she does to talk to.

She shakes her head. “It’s not you. It’s totally her. Mom and I were afraid she’d be like that with you when Sir Maxwell announced he was getting married.”

“What? Why? I’ve never even met her before.”

“You know how her husband has those gambling debts?”

I nod .

Melody sighs. “Well, Mom told me back when Ms. Julianna passed away, she left behind a nice fortune and a will. She was very kind and left everyone who worked here a nice chunk of change, but of course, most of her fortune was split between Sir Linus and their children.”

Silas barks and scampers to my feet and the hairs on my forearms rise. I don’t like where this is going.

She continues, “Well, Ms. Julianna understood what it meant to be the wife of the eldest Anderson son and she wanted to show her support to Sir Maxwell’s wife in the event she wasn’t here. As a small token of appreciation, she left a portion of her fortune to his wife. I think there were some time stipulations…I’m sure Sir Maxwell has forgotten about it since he’s a billionaire and all that, but you can ask him.”

“Okay…but what does this have anything to do with Agnes and how she treats me?”

“Well, Mom told me Agnes was drunk one night, which was very unusual for her. It was because her husband had put them in debt again. She told Mom if Sir Maxwell didn’t have a wife, the portion of Ms. Julianna’s fortune that would’ve gone to his wife would go to her instead because Ms. Julianna knew about her husband’s gambling habits.”

I fist my hands. “What the heck?” Reeling from this information, my eyes see red. “So you’re telling me Agnes wants me to leave Maxwell so she’ll get money?”

Melody shrugs. “I don’t know about that. But I’m thinking that’s why she’s cold toward you.”

I fume as I put the finishing touches on my makeup. Calm down, Belle. Calm down. Anger won’t solve the problem.

But anger feels so damn good right now.

“Anyway,” Melody stands up, “I wouldn’t care too much about Agnes. As long as you and Sir Maxwell are happy, what can she do anyway? She should just leave her bastard of a husband instead.”

I stay silent, still unable to calm the anger churning inside me. Game on, Agnes. Game. On .

I see Melody waving in the mirror’s reflection. Her lips curve up in an unsure smile. “Belle? Did I say too much?”

“No, thanks for telling me. Things make so much more sense now.”

“This is just speculation from my end. But anyway, I came in here to tell you the result of the charity gala.”

My ears perk up and I spin around and face her, the excitement temporarily dousing the need to find Agnes and give her a piece of my mind.

Melody beams. “We raised ten million dollars for depression and anxiety research.”

I gasp. “Ten million?” It’s far more than I expected for one night of dancing and auctioning.

She nods and waggles her brows. “Just got the numbers from the accountant, so I had to tell you right away! I’ll send the results to Ms. Lana so she can tell the press too. This is such great news!”

I squeal, leap out of my chair, and wrap Melody in a hug. “Yes! This is awesome! Thanks for telling me!”

“It’s you, Belle! People loved how you stepped up on the stage for the speech and how Sir Maxwell came to your defense when your boss attacked you. Everyone is saying you two are the power couple and how brave Sir Maxwell was for stepping into the spotlight when he was obviously anxious about it.”

She pulls away, grinning as she traipses back to the door. “Congratulations on being a smashing success.” Her voice takes on a very posh accent, as if she’s an amateur trying out for a British film. She gives me a thumbs-up. “And you look hot tonight! Sir Maxwell will absolutely die . Have fun! And don’t mind what Agnes said. She’s just an old grouch.”

The floorboards of the hallway creak as Melody leaves.

I hear the now familiar moaning wails whistling down the empty halls and suddenly, a door slams in the distance.

I jolt, my fingers flying to my locket as I recall my previous conversations with Agnes, all her cryptic warnings and disapproving glares .

Silas whines and I look at him, finding him growling at the closed door, his lone eye fierce and teeth bared.

“It’s just the air and the old house, Silas,” I murmur, reaching down to pet him, even as an insidious thread of unease resurfaces.

Agnes is trying to scare me away. That has to be it.

Silas barks again, clawing at the door, his nails digging into the dark wood. I open the door and he darts out, disappearing into the eerie quiet, chasing an unknown phantom that has been lurking in the shadows.

It’s Agnes trying to scare me. Curses aren’t real. Goosebumps prickle my forearms, and the room swirls around me. Cold sweat dots the back of my neck and I grab the doorframe for support, my eyes closing until the black dots disappear from my vision.

Stress. That’s what the doctor said. I’m so firing Agnes for putting me through this crap.

Another haunting wail echoes from far away, followed by a damp chill running up my spine.

I clutch the locket tighter in my grip, the metal flowers digging into the flesh of my fingers as I heave in deep breaths.

There is no curse. There can’t be. But deep down inside me, a voice whispers, what if?