Ask him now. There’s not going to be a better time.
“Joseph…” The words stuck in her throat. She’d been so certain of what she wanted before the picnic: to escape from Northwood, no matter the cost. But now, the cost—losing Joseph—was intolerable.
He spared her having to speak the words. “You want to leave. I know.”
Be honest with him. He deserves it. “I want us to both leave. Together. We could stay at my father’s, if accommodation is a problem. He wouldn’t mind—”
Joseph kissed the top of her head. It was a sad, lingering gesture. Instead of responding to her request, he said, “I’ve made some terrible decisions.”
Sophie waited for him to continue. She had the feeling that he was on the edge of sharing something monumental. Another fish leapt towards the sun, disturbing the lake’s surface, but she barely noticed it.
“I’m doing all that’s in my power to fix my mistakes, but… it will take time, and success is not guaranteed.” The sadness in his voice was almost painful to hear.
“I’ll help you,” Sophie said, tightening her grip on his shirt. “Whatever it is, I’ll help.”
“How did I find a woman as good and sweet as you?” Joseph asked, kissing her hair again. “You put me to shame, Sophie, and shine a harsh light on all of my inadequacies.”
“I-I didn’t mean to.”
He chuckled. “No, of course you didn’t. Don’t worry. I suspect it’s good for me. It’s growing late, though, and I’ve delayed my departure longer than I should have. I wish I could grant your request, but it’s not in my power at this moment. However, my hope is that the worst of my transgressions will soon be healed, and then we can leave Northwood. But you must be patient, my darling, and trust me. I’m doing everything I can.”
We can leave Northwood. They were the four words Sophie had desperately wanted to hear, and they lit a burning hope inside of her. “I can be patient. And I do trust you.”
“Thank you, my darling.” He slipped a hand under her chin, tilted her face towards his, then kissed her sweetly. He lingered before pulling away reluctantly, then he took back the jacket Sophie offered him and set out for the stables behind the house at a brisk walk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Drifting
As Joseph disappeared from sight, Sophie pressed her fingers to her mouth. Her heart thundered as she struggled not to laugh from mingled shock and delight.
He really loves me.
She felt as though a storm had broken inside her chest. Her heart ached, but in a good, over-filled way. Her skin tingled where Joseph had touched it. She was already hungry for his return and for when she could hold him again, feel his arms about her, and hear his voice.
Joseph had never seemed so warm or vulnerable as he had that morning. She loved both his smiles and laugher and wanted to experience more of both. It’s almost like he’s a different person outside of the house. Like its oppression lifts from him.
Sophie turned back to the building. It stretched high above her, its turrets and buttresses seeming more alive than ever before. She couldn’t shake the image of it being a hulking monster, crouched in the clearing as it waited for just the right moment to lunge and envelope its prey in its snapping jaw.
Movement caught her eye. One of the curtains on the second floor was fluttering back into place. Someone had been watching her, and Sophie knew who.
Rose. Does nothing escape her attention? Did she see me with Joseph? She’ll be angry.
Fear nipped at her, threatening to strangle her new happiness. Sophie looked away from the house and saw a horse and rider coming around the side of the building. Joseph raised his hand in goodbye as he urged the horse into a gallop towards the path leading to Northwood’s gate. Sophie returned the gesture. Be safe and come back quickly, she begged. I don’t know how long I can be here alone.
She watched him until the gate had closed and his horse’s flicking tail disappeared from view, then sighed. The picnic still lay on the cloth, but Sophie wasn’t hungry. I should pack it up and return it to the house so the staff can share it. But not just yet. I’ll stay outdoors a little longer.
Sophie piled the dishes back into the basket and wrapped the blanket about it so that it wouldn’t be bothered by insects, then she stood and stretched.
The morning seemed to have melted away, and the sun had already passed its apex and was beginning its descent. Sophie followed the edge of the lake, pausing to catch glimpses of tiny fish darting through the weeds surrounding the shore. She heard a few quiet plops in the distance where the fish leapt out of the water.
When the lake began curving towards the forest, Sophie turned away and continued towards the back of the house. A garden, larger than she’d expected, had been carefully cultivated on a sunny rise. She walked amongst the beds to admire the vegetables and fruit trees. Beyond the gardens were the stables, where she could hear men working to clean the stalls. She didn’t want to have to make small talk with strangers, so she backtracked towards the lake again.
The basket had been cleared away in the brief minutes she’d been behind the house, and a prickle of uneasiness crept up Sophie’s back. How closely were we being watched?
She followed the lake’s edge again, drawing closer to the forest than she would have dared if she hadn’t felt the house’s oppression so strongly. As she neared the clearing’s edge, she was able to appreciate just how complex and dark the woods were. Some of the trees looked hundreds of years old; their great trunks stretched high above her. Between them was thick bracken, felled trees at various stages of decay, and long, strangling vines. How does Joseph manage to walk through this? It looks like it would trip me every step I took.
The groaning tree limbs and chattering animal noises were loud. Sophie thought she saw motion deep in the shadows, but it was too indistinct to make out. The forest seemed to mirror the house in its claustrophobic, dense nature. The wind was growing colder, and the hairs across the backs of Sophie’s arms rose. She turned back to the lake and felt the breath seize in her throat.
A body floated in the water. Its limbs had caught amongst the weeds near the shore, and its long black hair drifted in a thick cloud about its head.
Sophie pressed a hand to her mouth. Horror and revulsion strangled her voice. As the hair ebbed in the lake’s gentle motion, Sophie caught a glimpse of the body’s face. He must have been dead for a long time; the thick, leathery skin had puckered and bulged sickeningly. Its bleached lips were open, exposing rotten gums and dark, elongated teeth.
What should I do? Should I find someone in the house or wait for Joseph—
The corpse’s eyes snapped open.
Sophie screamed and staggered away from the lake edge. The body’s black, lifeless eyes followed her as she stumbled and fell to the ground. Then the creature began twisting, its decaying, atrophied limbs turning towards her.
Terror poured energy into Sophie’s limbs. She regained her feet and ran for the house, clutching at her skirts so they wouldn’t trip her again. She thought she heard a scraping, dragging noise following her, but she didn’t dare turn to look as she reached the house. She threw herself up the stairs and wrenched open the door. After slipping through the gap, Sophie slammed the heavy barricade behind herself.
She leaned against the door, shivering and gasping, as tears blurred her eyes and her heart thundered. She remembered the figure she’d seen walking through the storm the morning before, and felt sick to her stomach. Was it the same ghost or a new one? Either way, the spirits hadn’t become dormant as Joseph had thought they would. And he was gone and wouldn’t return for another six hours, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do without him.
A door creaked open behind her, and Sophie swivelled to face it. Garrett Argenton had come through the dining room and fallen still as he caught sight of her. If he was surprised to see her looking so dishevelled or distressed, he didn’t show it.
If you need help, ask Garrett, Joseph had said. Sophie h
esitated, searching for a way to explain what had happened. He must know about the spirits, too, surely? Has he seen them before?
He clasped his hands behind his back as he waited for her to speak.
Sophie tried to wet her lips, but her tongue was too dry to do any good. “There was something… alive… in the lake.”
Garrett gave a short nod. “I’ll take care of it. Stay in your room.”
Is it really that simple? He’s just going to… take care of it?
“Be careful,” Sophie said, hoping she wasn’t speaking out of place.
Garrett’s moustache twitched as he gave a barely audible snort. Sophie could feel his eyes on her back as she crossed to the stairs and climbed to the third floor. Her limbs were still shaking, but the image of the lake was starting to take on a numb, distant feeling, almost as though it had been an exceptionally unpleasant and vivid dream.
Sophie turned at the top of the stairs and saw Garrett was still by the door, watching her. Why? To make sure I don’t try to leave the house again?
She rounded the corner to escape from the cold gaze then allowed herself to sink to the floor and rested her head on her knees. The nausea and shaking passed, but the dread didn’t.
His eyes are just as cold as Joseph’s used to be. What does he plan to do? Does he know a special way to fight or dispel the spirits? Surely not—if there was such a defence, Joseph would have told me about it. At least… I hope he would have told me about it.
Sophie moaned and pressed her palms against her temples. She’d felt so blissfully happy barely an hour before, when Joseph had held her close and kissed her hair. Just like the image of the lake’s corpse, those feelings were starting to take on a dream-like quality. I told Joseph I would trust him. But is that wise? He’s left me alone in a house with active spirits, and I don’t even know why. What’s so important in town that he had to travel there today?
She lowered her hands to see the red-and-gold walls. The abhorrent, intricate pattern, a permanent reminder that she was living in a house of shadows and secrets, seemed to envelop her.
Everything seemed so simple when I was with Joseph. What wouldn’t I give to wind back time and never let him go.
Her legs were steady, so Sophie got to her feet. She peeked around the corner to the stairwell into the foyer, but Garrett was no longer in view. I didn’t hear the door open. Did he go outside?
Don’t think about it. Sophie turned back to the hallway. Not now, at least. Wait in your room. Joseph will be back in less than six hours. And when he is, he’ll explain everything. He owes it to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Elise
When Marie had shown Sophie the way from her room to the stairwell that morning, Sophie had paid careful attention to the path. She retraced it then, mouthing the instructions to herself. Right, second right, then left at the end of the hallway, and right again.
She found herself in a hall that seemed familiar and followed it to the end. But when she turned the handle, she realised, with a horrible sinking feeling, that she was entering the wrong room. Her handle turned smoothly; this one squealed on its hinge. The door was already half open before she realised her mistake, though, and Sophie stared at the room’s interior in shock.
It was clearly lived-in. The bed was neatly made with fresh sheets, and the curtains were pulled back to allow in the sickly afternoon light. The bureau’s contents—ribbons, brushes, haircombs, and an expensive-looking doll—had been swept onto the floor.
They weren’t the only things on the floor, though. Crude images had been drawn across the wooden boards with a charcoal pencil.
Against her better judgement, Sophie stepped into the room to gaze, horrified, at the pictures. The black Shadow Being loomed towards her a hundred times from the floor, and a hundred more stared from the walls. Every available surface had been drawn on. The sensation of so many pairs of empty white eyes fixed on her was overpowering.
Sophie covered her mouth to muffle her breathing. This must be Elise’s room. This is worse than I could have ever expected. How long did it take her to create this?
She turned in a semi-circle, captivated and horrified by the display. There was something almost familiar about the shadow figure, the way its limbs were extended unnaturally, and how its fingers were tipped with long, vicious claws. Sophie felt as though the pictures needed to be a little more detailed for her to make out the resemblance, but Elise’s drawings were scrawled messily, almost frantically. The only clear parts were the lamp-like eyes.
An exhale behind her made Sophie gasp, and she swung around to find Elise standing in the doorway. The girl looked sick. Her face was white and sweaty, and the circles around her eyes were almost dark enough to look like stains. Her gaze was unfocussed, and Sophie wasn’t entirely sure if Elise saw her.
I’ve seen that expression before. It was a stray dog that had been trapped. It was scared to the point of insanity; so frantic that it wasn’t aware of its surroundings but deathly tired from its struggles.
Sophie felt tears build. What had Elise endured to gain that look? She took a step towards the girl, half wanting to take her hands and promise help, and half wanting to simply hug her. But Elise spoke before Sophie could close the distance.
“Can’t you hear him?” she asked. Her voice was as raw as it would have been if she’d spent the last hour screaming. “Can’t you hear his whispers?”
“Elise, sweet, what’s wrong?” Sophie took the girl’s hands in hers. They were cold. She rubbed at them, trying to get warmth back into them.
Joseph, I’m sure you would have known what to do. Why did you have to leave me?
Elise exhaled, and her dazed eyes fixed on Sophie. “He wants you more,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Who does she mean—Joseph or someone else? “Elise,” Sophie said, fighting to keep her voice gentle and low, “has someone hurt you? Has your mother done something bad?”
“My mother?” A ghost of a smile spread across her pale lips. “Do you mean Rose? She can hear him, too, sometimes.”
“Elise,” Sophie started, but broke off as a silhouette appeared in the hallway behind the girl. Sophie let go of Elise’s hands and straightened, feeling the blood drain from her face. Garrett had approached them so silently that she hadn’t realised he was there until he was on top of them. His eyes roved across the drawings filling the room, but his face was expressionless; she couldn’t tell if he was angry or simply surprised. He placed both hands on Elise’s shoulders and moved her to one side, so that she no longer blocked the doorway.
“Sir,” Sophie began, lost for words.
Garret’s voice was ice cold. “Go back to your room.”
She didn’t dare disobey him and hurried past the pair, all but fleeing down the hallway. Just as she had in the foyer, she could feel Garret’s eyes on her back the entire way.
She stumbled through the house’s maze, trying to figure out where her carefully memorised pathway had led her wrong, but she was already aware that she’d become hopelessly lost during her flight from Elise’s room. She took a hallway on a whim and, to her shock and immense relief, realised she recognised it. She opened the door at the end, entered her room, and sank onto her bed with a relieved gasp.
There’s more wrong with this house than I ever could have imagined. What’s happening to Elise? Why won’t Joseph tell me? Is it because he knows I’ll leave if I learn the truth? Should I leave?
She clenched her hands until they stopped shaking and squeezed her eyes closed until they dried. When she felt in control enough to stand, she went to the window and gazed at the bleak clearing.
Joseph gave me this room because it has the best view in the house. I think I would much rather not have a view at all.
The lake was still. That was a mercy. The trees rocked and shivered in the wind, and their groaning filled the room. Sophie fixed her eyes on the gate leading out of Northwood and didn’t look away until she heard her door open some time later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Marie
A familiar, sweet face peeked around the door’s edge, and Sophie felt a rush of relief. She held out her hand to her friend. “Marie! Come inside. I’m so glad to see you. I can’t even begin to describe what’s happened today—”
Sophie stopped short as she noticed how pale Marie’s face seemed in the dim light and how shaky her smile was. She’s seen something. “Come, sit on the edge of my bed. What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
Marie nodded, and Sophie squeezed the girl’s hand. “You can stay with me as long as you need to.”
Marie clearly wanted to tell Sophie what she’d seen, but Sophie couldn’t understand the wild gestures. Marie mimed writing on her hand, and Sophie fetched sheets of paper, the pen, and ink well from her table and propped them on the bed between them. “Can you write?”
Marie shook her head, took up the pen, and began drawing on the paper. Sophie leaned closer and tried to guess what the images meant.
First Marie drew a house with tall turrets. That was easy.
“Northwood.”
Marie nodded and drew a crude face with a finger pressed over its lips.
“Secrets?”
She nodded again.
The next image was harder to guess. It wasn’t until Marie scrawled over the figure’s dress multiple times, making it bigger and fancier with each pass, that it clicked for Sophie. “Woman. A wealthy lady. Ah—of course—Rose.”
Marie drew a large cross beside the woman.
Sophie felt a crawling sensation rise in her stomach. “You don’t like her.”
The maid nodded, but she wasn’t finished. She pointed to Sophie, then to Rose, then to the cross.
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