The conservatory door from the dining room opened with protesting hinges. In walked a ghost, or a woman who could pass for one. Her thick blonde hair piled upon her head in a pompadour, her sturdy gray dress a shimmering shade that spoke of money and elegance mixed with practicality. She was an older version of the beautiful woman in the portrait above the fireplace in the hall, perhaps a little younger than fifty.
“Good evening.” The woman’s voice sent a soft, welcoming feeling over Lilly.
“Mother.” Morgan held his hand out to the woman and she took it. “Miss Lilly Luna, this is my mother, Mrs. Healy.”
“Please call me Constance.” She took Lilly’s hand to shake. “My husband says I am too familiar with servants, but I certainly don’t think there is anything to be lost from friendliness.”
Lilly smiled. “Thank you Mrs.—I mean Constance. You have the most beautiful home.”
“Thank you. I see Morgan has been the perfect host. Darling, I’m sure you have many things to do. I will show Lilly around the rest of the house and get her settled into her room.”
He nodded. “Goodnight Lilly. Mother.” With a last, almost lingering look at Lilly, he left. Lilly felt that intense stare long after he’d departed.
From that point forward, Constance continued the tour, taking Lilly up to see the small balcony area on the second floor at the top of the stairs in the front of the house. Constance showed her Patricia’s room, but they didn’t go inside. Lilly noted a strange discomfort. An icy feeling entered her bones. Lilly felt the disturbance like a low vibration stirring in her veins—a miasma of unease she couldn’t quantify.
Lilly snapped to attention when she realized Mrs. Healy was talking to her.
“Tomorrow I’ll show you the art gallery and the study, although no one but my husband uses the study. There are four bathrooms upstairs and the one closest to your room you may consider your bathroom.”
“My own bathroom?” Lilly couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve never ....”
Constance beamed as she held her lamp aloft. “I know. It’s quite extraordinary.” She opened a door and showed Lilly the small bathroom, which included a tub with running water. “You’ll find this very convenient and comfortable. Patricia has her own bathroom on the other side of her room as well. There’s a billiard room and storeroom upstairs as well as servant’s bedrooms and a bathroom and two more guestrooms.”
“This is an enormous house, but very beautiful.”
“Indeed. I’ll show you the third floor tomorrow.” She opened a mahogany door next to Patricia’s and revealed a delightful bedroom. “I hope you like it.”
Lilly brightened as she entered the room after Mrs. Healy. “How lovely.”
A huge four-poster bed graced the west side of the room. The fireplace snapped and crackled with a friendly fire. Her trunks had already been brought up and lay at the foot of the bed. She felt only warmth and pleasantness inside the room.
Why would I expect anything else?
Mrs. Healy placed her lamp on a side table just within the door and lit another one. “Please make yourself comfortable.” She withdrew a key from a pocket in her skirt. “This is very important.” She held the key up and then handed it to Lilly. She glanced at the connecting door on the east side of the room. “Keep it with you and do not lose it. It matches that door which enters Patricia’s room. She knows to knock on it if she needs you, but she doesn’t knock often. Unless you are with Patricia in her room, you must keep it locked. It’s very important.”
Though Mrs. Healy kept her words soft and easy, Lilly didn’t ignore the implication. “Of course. When do I meet your daughter? I was told a little about my duties, but not much.”
Mrs. Healy clasped her hands together. “Patricia is in the best ... disposition in the morning, unless it is gloomy outside. She’ll be at breakfast tomorrow to meet you.”
“Breakfast with the family? Mrs. Healy, I’m surprised I’m not with the other servants.”
Mrs. Healy shrugged delicately. “Perhaps you have the wrong impression of your position. You are more than a servant. You’ll spend upwards of six hours a day with Patricia, so you’re more a friend to her than a servant. You’ll go out on carriage rides on a rare occasion, but even then, my son or husband must be with you. You will shop for her in Simple.”
“She doesn’t go into Simple?”
Sadness seemed to turn Mrs. Healy’s eyes glassy. “Never.”
Lilly had one more question, and her stomach clenched in trepidation. “What happened to the last companion, Mrs. Healy?”
Discomfort edged around the older woman’s easy demeanor. “Her father is gravely ill and she left for Denver. It was unexpected. We received word from her that he passed to his maker and she must take care of her elderly mother now.”
Lilly nodded, dubious. Not long after, Mrs. Healy bid her goodnight. Lilly gazed around the room, her lamp and the cheerful fire providing a sanctuary. While she understood the ghosts in the asylum, she would have to make acquaintance with any new ghosts here ... if there were any.
She placed her reticule on a bedside table and walked to the window facing the front of the house. She’d barely pulled back the curtain when a sound came to her ears. Thumping? A voice? Frowning, she trekked to the connecting door. No light streamed under it. She placed her palms lightly on the door and leaned her left ear against the wood. A female voice, almost childlike, uttered a song. Lilly strained to hear.
“Down in the basement they reside, sweet and low, they’re there I know. Down in the dirt, they’ve met their end, here we are, awaiting their return. They haunt me low, they haunt me high, I am certain they’ll haunt me ‘til I die.”
Lilly tensed. What on earth ....
The song drifted away. Lilly stood there, ear against the wood, for several moments. Nothing more issued from the room. A large cracking noise behind her made Lilly jump. She swung around. The fire snapped again loudly. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Lilly stayed in the middle of the room and contemplated the words Patricia had sung. Her blood ran icy.
* * *
Lilly awakened sometime in the night, her heart rushing as if she’d suffered a nightmare. She sat up in bed, throwing back the covers. The fire had extinguished, not even an ember to brighten the darkness. Not that it mattered. She saw everything.
Even the little girl standing at the right side of her bed.
Lilly gasped, wondering if a new ghost had come to seek help. Then she recognized her.
“Becca.” Lilly’s throat tightened in anxiety, her stomach knotting as she fought with fear and anger. “What are you doing here?”
Becca moved, a shadow in the darkness. Iciness fell over the air. Becca smiled. “You’re lonely. Nothing good can happen to you here. You should play with me forever.”
Lilly lay back on her bed and pulled the covers up around her shoulders. “Becca, you need to go.” Frustration added power to her whisper. “You need to go to heaven or hell or wherever you belong.”
“Hell?” A whimpering cry of despair came from Becca’s throat as her face twisted in her manipulative drama. “You have sent me to hell. It’s because of you I’m stuck here.” Becca came closer. “Die and come with me. You can be a child again instead of an old lady and play with me in hell.”
As it did every time, Becca’s plea twisted Lilly’s heart and chilled it at the same time. She knew better than to mention hell, and the guilt she experienced afterwards always settled in her gut like a sickening lump.
“No.” Lilly couldn’t take it. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer—a spell some would say—she’d read in a book—a book she wasn’t supposed to read and no one knew was there. “May the god and goddess surround me with light. May they protect me from evil.” She repeated it again. Again.
Finally, after ten times, Lilly opened her eyes.
Empty. The air had warmed.
Lilly sighed with relief. Perhaps the prayer had worked. The Lord�
�s Prayer had never made Becca leave, and Lilly had resorted to trying many different prayers in hope of something working. Lilly settled into the relative warmth of the bed with its covers and blankets. What if Becca returned? What if she shadowed her from room to room like a fly following carrion? What if—
Stop.
Lilly knew she must stop. Down this path lay disaster and insanity—the very thing many people in Tranquil View Asylum suffered from every day. Uneasy, disturbed, Lilly wondered when Becca would return.
Chapter 9
Lilly arrived in the dining room first the next morning. She’d awakened later than usual, her night restless, and she’d tamped down her desire to wander the darkness. She settled at the table, uncertain about where she should sit or what to do. Studying etiquette books never covered all the idiosyncrasies of every home, from what she understood.
A door opened and an older woman popped into the dining room. “Why, hello.” The woman wore a shapeless, dark gray, wool dress. Her round face was florid, and she seemed winded as she moved her round body across the dining room. “You must be Miss Lilly Luna.”
“Yes.” Lilly said.
“I’m Zelda Hammond. I’m the cook here. Would you like coffee? I’m bringing out the buffet shortly.”
Warmed by the woman’s cheerful smile and genuine kindness, Lilly returned the woman’s smile. “Coffee would be lovely.”
The hallway door opened and Morgan stepped inside. He smiled brightly. She didn’t like the warm and excited feeling that filled her at the sight of him. Luscious sensations tingled through her breasts and between her legs as heat gathered. She’d felt this way with the apothecary’s son, but nowhere as intensely as she did with Morgan.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Mr. Healy.” She wouldn’t say his first name. The intimacy made her uncomfortable and wouldn’t seem proper.
He circled the table to sit across from her. “I see you still insist on calling me that. Okay, I’ll leave it up to you. Sooner or later you’ll call me Morgan.”
“Now, now, Mr. Healy, you’ll frighten the poor dear to death with your wicked talk,” Zelda said.
“She’s a grown woman, Zelda.” He tossed a charming grin at the older woman.
Zelda planted her hands on her ample hips. “She’s barely out of her teens.”
Lilly wouldn’t let them talk about her as if she weren’t there. “I’m twenty. I turned twenty in September.”
“We can’t fault Zelda for thinking you might be younger,” Morgan said.
His words held a smooth, almost patronizing tone that made Lilly want to say or do something completely unladylike. “We can’t?”
Morgan shrugged. “You look very young.”
“Should I be complimented or insulted, Mr. Healy?”
Zelda chuckled. “You two can spend your time bickering. I’m off to get your coffee and breakfast.”
When the doors closed to the kitchen, Morgan turned his gaze toward Lilly. “How was the rest of your tour last night? Did you sleep well?”
“The tour was very nice. This is a huge house.” She hesitated to say whether she’d slept well, because she hadn’t.
“By some standards this is a big home.” He leaned forward slightly and placed his forearms on the table in a way she’d heard should never be done. Perhaps he didn’t follow every rule, as he’d told her at the ball.
“You look tired,” he said. “Are you ill?”
“It was a little hard to stay asleep.” She smoothed a hand over the pompadour on her head. “I woke up several times.”
“I can understand that. It’s a new place.”
Before she could reply, Zelda came in with a rolling cart filled to the brim. She gave them coffee and then set out a buffet on a table behind Lilly. Lilly’s stomach growled, and she realized then how very hungry she’d become. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. During the dinner hour at the asylum, she’d been far too nervous to eat. Now she didn’t feel shy about eating—she piled on scrambled eggs, sausages, and potatoes. Her mouth watered as she drew in delicious scents.
She sat down and dug into her meal, trying and failing to eat as slowly as she’d have liked. Morgan settled across from her again and tucked into his own breakfast with enthusiasm.
She was eager to make conversation so she could ignore the way he made her feel, but when his gaze caught hers, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. In the daylight, in these surroundings, she couldn’t ignore his masculinity. She couldn’t pretend that his presence didn’t disturb her and make her wonder a hundred times over if she’d made a mistake coming here.
The door from the kitchen swung wide, but instead of Zelda, another woman floated into the dining room, gliding with each footstep. Grace polished her every movement. Her white dress reminded Lilly of a photograph she’d seen of a wedding dress from the eighteen nineties. Though the mutton-legged sleeves and the bodice didn’t follow current fashion, the dress’s pristine white said it hadn’t been worn often. It fitted the woman’s slender, tall frame as if it had been custom made. For a few seconds, Lilly couldn’t help but gape. Immediately Lilly knew the woman must be related to Mrs. Healy, the resemblance too marked to ignore. Blonde hair curled around the woman’s head in a thick pompadour, her cheekbones high, her eyes a brilliant blue, her nose small and dignified. She had a sweeter face than even her mother, and it seemed to speak of innocence. She turned her smile on Lilly. Lilly put her fork down.
“Good morning,” Lilly said, smiling.
Morgan stood, his face rigid with what looked like disapproval. “Patricia. What are you doing here?” His voice rasped a harshness that surprised Lilly.
“Why, eating, of course,” his sister said, a teasing smile curving her mouth and filling her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
He frowned, his face void of the amusement Patricia’s displayed. “Are you certain that is a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Patricia asked, her voice unconcerned. “Dear brother.”
Patricia Healy didn’t look anything like her brother. Where Patricia was delicate ice—a snowflake—her brother was granite and hard edges.
Patricia rounded the table and with a swish of skirts, and sat next to her brother. “I can hardly eat upstairs every meal, now can I?”
Morgan returned to his chair, his gaze dancing from his sister to Lilly. “I understood you were indisposed.”
Patricia patted the back of her hair. “That is what father would like everyone to think. But I’m well, thank you.” Patricia’s voice matched her face—light and as delicate as a flower. “And you must be Lilly Luna.”
“Yes. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Patricia’s eyes narrowed and Lilly’s skin prickled. She didn’t like the sensation running up and down her spine right now. It reminded her too much of encountering Becca last night. Or any night for that matter.
Patricia’s eyes cleared to a guileless, almost childlike joy. “We will have to take a turn around the garden—oh wait ....” Her voice tinkled, a bell of sound. “It snowed and the garden is dead.” She sighed. “How silly of me. I’d forgotten it was winter.”
The kitchen door swung open and Zelda entered. “Forgive me for taking so long. Stove is acting up something fierce.” Zelda stopped so quickly when she saw Patricia that she almost dropped the tray. “Miss Patricia I didn’t know we were expecting you for breakfast.”
Patricia waved her right hand with a dismissive motion. “Not to worry Zelda. I’m so sorry I didn’t warn you.” Patricia leaned forward slightly, and chuckled. “They’ll have you thinking I’m quite insane, Lilly. May I call you Lilly?”
“Of course. May I call you Patricia?”
Patricia smiled again. “Of course.”
“Miss Patricia, are you going to want the usual?” Zelda asked, her mouth set with disapproval at this unexpected development.
“Yes, please.” Her tone didn’t betray annoyance, only gentle affectio
n. “Thank you Zelda.”
After Zelda nodded succinctly and departed, Lilly asked, “You aren’t having the buffet?”
“Oh, no. I am on a special diet,” Patricia said.
“Special?” Lilly looked over the young woman, who couldn’t be more than twenty-eight. Older than Morgan, certainly, but not by much.
“Two eggs over easy and toast. Tea. I don’t care for coffee.”
“I love coffee, I will admit.” Lilly savored the rich taste. It was far better than any she’d had at the asylum.
Everything about this opulent abode was proving better than the asylum. Here she could breathe and explore and learn the world she’d never known. Possibilities excited her.
Patricia smoothed one slim, white hand over the cornflower-blue tablecloth. “Mother told me about you yesterday, Lilly. I was very surprised Father and Mother hired anyone else for me.”
“Why?” Lilly asked.
“The other girl has hardly been gone a week. And I’ve gone through so many young women.”
Quiet dropped over the room until all Lilly heard was the clink of cup into saucer.
“Lilly, I think we’ll get along famously.” Patricia shifted her cutlery, straightening the two forks on the left. “Tell me more about yourself.”
Discomfort Lilly felt a few moments ago increased. “There is little to tell.”
Morgan shifted in his chair, but he continued eating. “Perhaps eating breakfast first is a good idea.”
“We can’t make light talk while we wait?” Patricia asked.
Lilly needed conversation. Silence made her wary. She felt the hole too deeply. Very well. She could do this. “My mother was committed to Tranquil View in eighteen eighty-eight. I was born in September that year. I’ve lived there my entire life.”
Curiosity filled Patricia’s face. “Your father had your mother committed?”
Shadows Wait Page 9