“What do you mean?” Ellis insisted.
“Something about arriving on a train … a baby … something called a ‘Nightbird,’” Merrick said, shaking his head. “Nurse Disir took most of it down at the insistence of the doctor. But part of your delirium was a dark figure of a man who came to you here in your room. Do you remember him?”
A male form became clearly outlined, darkness against the moonlight now streaming through the window at his back. His silhouette was tall, with broad shoulders and slender hips. The ribbons upon his chest glistened in the moonlight, head bent low, face hidden in the shadows.
“A soldier,” Ellis said quietly.
“Ah!” Merrick urged as he nodded. “That’s helpful. Did you know him?”
“Dear Ellis.” He sighed. “Do you know me?” She could see the set of his jawline was earnest in the darkness. Almost imperceptibly she shook her head no.
“He thought I did,” Ellis replied, licking her lips.
“Did he have a name?” Merrick pressed her. “Do you remember if he gave you his name?”
The waltz started playing on the Victrola.
Transfixed, Ellis spun with him into the small world of their dance.
“Do you know me?” he asked with hope.
Passion. Heat. Pain. Desire. Giving. Taking. Holding. Fear. His voice called up thoughts and impressions unbidden. Terrible. Familiar.
“Who are you?” Ellis gasped as all of Gamin whirled around them.
“I am Jonas,” he said.
Ecstasy. Trembling. Anger. Betrayal. Tears.
“I don’t know you.” She knew it was a lie even as she spoke the words.
“He did.” Ellis sighed. “He said his name was Jonas.”
“That’s excellent, Ellis.” Merrick nodded. “Did he ever call himself by any other name or—”
Ellis shook her head. “No more, please. I’m tired. I’ve got to rest.”
“Of course, Ellie,” Merrick said. He hesitated, looking away from her again through the French doors to the failing light beyond. He winced every time the beam of the lighthouse crossed his face. “I don’t know what happened to us, Ellis. We were happy here, you and I—as happy as two souls might be here in Gamin. You loved this place. You used to say that you came here just because I asked. It was enough for you—enough for us. I could not understand it when you left. I would have come after you if I could have. Then you came back and I was sure that we could fix whatever had gone wrong between us and we could continue on as though nothing had changed.”
“I don’t remember any of that,” Ellis said. She could see the pain in his eyes, the defiance against his own emotions in the jutting of his jaw. “I wish I could.”
“So do I,” Merrick said through a sad smile, and then rose from the edge of the bed. He leaned forward carefully, hesitantly, and then kissed her gently on her forehead. He lingered there close to her for a moment, murmuring quietly, “We were always good together … and we will be again.”
“You should go,” Ellis answered back.
“Quite right,” Merrick said, straightening upright at once and stepping away from the bed. “The constable is awaiting my report and then I have a number of other important things which demand my immediate attention.”
Merrick snatched up his cloak from the chair, swinging it onto his shoulders. “We’ll have this fiend cornered and caged by morning. You’ve come back to us and are safely home at last. That’s all that matters. The nightmare is nearly over, Janelle.”
Ellis glanced up sharply. “What did you call me?”
“Ellie, of course,” Merrick replied with concern. “Are you feeling unwell again?”
“Thank you for your concern, but—”
Merrick opened the door, calling down the spiral staircase, “Nurse Disir!”
“Yes, sir?” came the distant voice from below.
“Attend to Miss Harkington at once,” Merrick demanded, then turned back to face Ellis from the doorway as he fastened his cloak. “Just stay here in your rooms until I return and you’ll be safe.”
“Yes, Merrick,” Ellis replied.
He smiled. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by that name. Thank you, Ellie.”
Bacchus pushed past Finny on the landing. His footfalls vanished down the curved staircase into the rotunda below as Finny regained control of the precariously balanced tea tray in her hands.
“That Mr. Bacchus is always in too much of a hurry!” Finny exclaimed as she came into the room, her face as sour as the lemon slices on the tray. “Haste is blind and improvident, that is what I always say. I’ve brought you up the tea, miss.”
“Thank you, Finny,” Ellis said, pushing her feet back down the length of the bed under the covers. She helped Finny position the bed tray over her lap. “Where’s Jenny? I would have thought she would have been asking after me by now.”
“Jenny, miss?” Finny asked evenly as she picked up the teapot.
“Yes, Jenny.” Ellis asked, “Where is she?”
“I don’t know any Jenny, miss,” Finny answered as she carefully poured out the tea into its cup. Would you care for any cream?”
“Yes, thank you. Of course you know Jenny. She’s the young woman who lives here,” Ellis insisted. “The one who owns Summersend.”
“Oh, I think you’re still feeling a bit confused,” Finny said as the cream began to cloud the surface of the clear tea. “You’re the only mistress of Summersend and have been these last six years since your parents passed on.”
Ellis stared at Finny for a moment. She drew in a deep, considering breath before she spoke. “Oh, of course, how silly of me. I must be confusing my nightmares with my waking hours.”
“Yes, miss.” Finny nodded with a tight smile. “Sugar?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ellis said, her voice as cool as the rain splattering the window. The beam of the lighthouse passed again, somehow brighter in the deepening evening. She fixed her eyes on the nurse fumbling with the spoon over the sugar bowl. “I had a rather fanciful dream about a sea captain … a Captain Walker. Have you ever heard of such a man?”
“Oh no, miss,” Finny said, her hand shaking as she sifted the sugar into the cup.
“There were also a young man and a young woman in this dream,” Ellis continued. “His name was Ely Rossini. I called the woman Alicia.”
“I’m not in the habit of dealing with fictitious individuals,” Finny said, straightening up.
“So, you’ve never known someone named Alicia?” Ellis asked as she picked up the cup.
“Stuff and nonsense!” Finny sniffed in disgust. “I’m a serious-minded woman, miss, and I’ve no interest in being introduced to your imaginary friends called into existence by a fevered mind!”
“No, of course not.” Ellis nodded, her eyes fixed on Finny over the edge of the cup as she sipped her tea. “I guess I’m still on the mend.”
“Of course, miss.” Finny nodded, her arms folded across her chest, fingers drumming in her impatience. “Will there be anything else? The weather is getting worse and I’d like to be home before the light fails entirely.”
“No, that will be all—”
Finny nodded and was already turning.
“No, wait,” Ellis added. “There is one last thing you can do for me before you go.”
Finny turned, casting a baleful eye on Ellis as she asked, “And what would that be, miss?”
“Is there a bell jar in the hall downstairs?” Ellis asked with a gentle smile, her head cocked slightly to one side.
“The large one?” Finny asked. “The one displaying all those dead moths?”
“The very one.” Ellis nodded. “Would you bring it up and set it on my dresser? I’m tired of staring at the walls and long to see it.”
Finny opened her mouth but paused before she spoke. “Yes, miss.”
The nurse left the room for a few moments and then returned with the large bell jar carried awkwardly in front of her. The glass rattle
d on the base as she lifted it up onto the top of the dresser. At last she managed to slide it back into the center of the dresser’s top, stepped back and straightened her dress before turning to face Ellis again.
“Miss, I don’t think—”
“That will be all, Finny,” Ellis said, sipping her tea once more. “You should be off home while you can.”
“Yes, miss,” Finny said as she retreated quickly from the room. “I’ll be back in the morning. Night, miss.”
Ellis waited, patiently sipping her tea until she heard the footsteps downstairs end with the closing of the front door. Then she set down the cup, picked up the tray and kicked off the covers. She set the tray carefully on the floor, hurrying over to the dresser, inspecting the interior of the bell jar carefully.
The vertical piece of driftwood in the center with the various leaves and mosses fixed to it was as she remembered it. The wings of the moths were carefully arranged into a beautiful presentation, but now the display had changed. Two more moths had been added.
“Ely and Alicia,” Ellis murmured.
The wings of the two new dead moths twitched slightly in the bright passing beam of the lighthouse.
“I’m not mad,” Ellis said as she stepped back. “The world is.”
She opened the closet cabinet, scanning its contents. She pulled out the dark green skirt and jacket of her traveling outfit. She frowned; it was still ugly in her eyes, but suddenly she felt as though it was the only thing among her clothes that was truly hers. She pulled out the rest of her traveling suit and quickly dressed, finishing with the buttons of her high kid boots.
She looked at herself in the mirror and adjudged herself as ready as she could be.
“You seem to be the only one here that knows what’s going on,” she said to her reflection, “and you don’t know a blessed thing. The only thing you do know is that no one is going to stop this except you.”
She turned to the French doors, released the latches and pulled them open wide. The light rain fell on the small balcony beyond. Through the veil of rain she barely made out the lighthouse. Its beam swung over her.
“You want me, Jonas!” she called into the rain. “I’m here! Come and get me!”
21
SNARES
The beam of the lighthouse swung around with clockwork regularity, cutting through the sheets of light rain over the harbor. Ellis waited, staring out toward Curtis Island with calm anticipation. She was tired of wondering, tired of feeling lost, tired of questioning her own mind and fleeing from fear. She stood facing the light. She was suddenly aware of how much her traveling suit looked like a uniform and she felt somehow that she was about to engage in her own private war.
They had told her she was sick and, believing them, she had been weak. They had told her she was mad and, believing them, she had accepted their madness.
But she no longer believed them.
She was strong.
She was sane.
And she could fight her monsters on her own.
The light swung again toward her, filling her vision as she stared toward it. But the brilliance did not fade as it had countless times before. It cut through the rain. The light remained constant across the threshold of the French doors, spilling across the small balcony and filling her room. Ellis held her hand up, shielding her eyes against the blinding light. Whether the lamp had stopped or time itself Ellis could not tell.
Something moved in the brilliance. Shadows incongruously fluttered away from the light, a thousand shades of darkness in paisley shapes flying toward her. Ellis took a single step back, then steeled herself for what she both hoped and feared was coming.
The moths exploded into the room around her, a whirlwind of dark wings. Ellis balled up her fists, holding still against the frightening onslaught. The cloud of moths around her suddenly collapsed into the shape of a man in front of her.
Time resumed and the beam of the lighthouse passed on.
Jonas stood before her, the distinctive paisley-shaped discoloration blemishing the skin of his forehead and right eye. He stood in his soldier’s uniform—not a dress uniform but that of an infantryman in Europe as she had seen them pictured.
Ellis forced a smile to her lips.
“I came, Ellis,” Jonas said, taking her in his arms boldly, passionate with a warm familiarity that both shocked and comforted Ellis all at once. “You called me at last and I’ve come for you.”
“Yes, Jonas,” Ellis said with a lightness she did not feel. “You’ve come as I asked.”
“Come with me, Ellis,” Jonas said. “We must leave soon. So much depends on it—more than you know.”
“Go where, Jonas?” Ellis urged.
“To the gate, my darling,” Jonas said. “Once we pass through the gate everything will be right again.”
“The gate out of this world?” Ellis asked carefully.
“The gate into the next,” Jonas replied.
“Then we must hurry before they discover us.” Ellis nodded. “Come, Jonas; I know the way.”
Ellis took Jonas by the hand and led him from the room. From the landing at the top of the stairs the floor of the rotunda was dim under the light of the evening storm. They walked down the stairs carefully into the darkness below them.
“Where is the gate, Ellie?” Jonas asked.
“It took me a while before I realized it,” Ellis replied. “Ely told me that Merrick moved the gate after I left, but it wasn’t until today that I realized just where he would have thought to move it.”
They came to the parquet floor with the inlaid compass design barely visible in the failing light. Ellis walked down the vestibule and into the dim music room with Jonas following close behind. She noted that the piano was gone entirely; a pair of high-back chairs with a small, round table between them had taken its place. She dismissed the mystery to the madness of the world, concentrating on leading Jonas on behind her. She stepped up to the bookcase at the back and found the vase on the shelf. Ellis pulled open the hidden door in the bookcase and beckoned Jonas to follow her.
“A secret room?” Jonas was surprised.
“Very secret indeed,” Ellis responded. “Where better to keep secrets?”
Ellis picked up the vase as she stepped into the workroom, holding the door open for Jonas as he followed.
“The gate is here?” Jonas asked.
“There, toward the far end,” Ellis said as she set the vase down on the workbench. “Beneath the window there’s a catch.”
Jonas stepped down to the far end of the room. “I can’t see it. It’s too dark in here.”
“I’ll fetch a lamp,” Ellis said easily.
She turned and pushed against the second hidden door.
It did not move.
Ellis’s hands began to shake, but she pushed again.
This time the panel gave way, swinging open into the archway at the back of the rotunda. Ellis stepped through it, her hand reaching up for the second vase.
He’s a monster, Ellis reminded herself. He’s killed before … maybe he’s killed Jenny. He has affected the minds of everyone in the town. It’s up to me. I have to put an end to this.
Ellis pulled the vase from the bookcase in the archway. The hidden door swung quietly closed as she stepped clear. She heard the lock click shut with a dull thunk.
Ellis had trapped the monster, but she did not know for how long.
She fled from the house into the rain.
* * *
Her shoes were soaked and caked with mud. The hem of her skirt was stained and her jacket drenched with the rain. Her hair had become soaked as she ran and lay in short, wet tendrils about her head and face as she staggered up the steps of the Norembega. She pushed open the vestibule outer doors. She eyed the cord for the bell next to the inner door but laughed at the thought of waiting on custom at this moment of peril. She reached for the door latch and was surprised to find the door unsecured. It swung open in front of her.
“Mr. Bacchus!” she yelled. “Please! Merrick!”
She closed the door behind her, throwing home the bolt, and then staggered back away from the door. The oak stairs with their sitting-room landing were there as she remembered them on her right and the large front parlor through the doors to her left. There was a small fire burning in the fireplace at the far end of the parlor with the archway to the half-round office room just to its right. The rain pelted the high windows of the curved room beyond as well as the windows in their bays on the right side of the room. There were other doors leading in several other directions from the hall and on the left side of the parlor, but she hesitated to go through them. Ellis had not ventured farther into the house than this on her visit and suddenly realized that she would have no idea where to look for Merrick in the enormous mansion.
“Merrick!” Ellis screamed. “Help! Where are you? I need you!”
She stumbled wearily into the parlor. The statues of griffins on either side of the hearth seemed to watch her as she approached. She could see the glass bowl still on the mantelpiece, its silver key obscured by the etched surface. She slipped past the fireplace into the turret room beyond.
Much to her surprise, the desk that had previously occupied the space behind the fireplace was missing, as was its chair. Only the wooden books remained, filling the bookshelves with empty knowledge.
Ellis ran her fingers through her hair over her forehead, trying to think. Merrick said he had things to which he had to attend. Perhaps he was caught somewhere else when the rain came down in earnest. She gazed out the windows set high in the curved wall, her breath still labored from her flight from the house.
Across the south lawn she saw it.
There was a light flickering in the carriage house.
Merrick!
Ellis considered for a moment. Merrick had forbidden anyone to go into the carriage house. Perhaps it was his private retreat, a place where he could get away from the prying eyes and the wagging tongues of the town. A man of his position surely needed some place that was inviolate.
Unwept Page 18