Murder by Twilight

by Blythe Baker

  “Catherine would never hurt our daughter,” Charles said passionately.

  “Catherine wouldn’t,” Camellia agreed. “But the woman in that room is not the same Catherine anymore. She has changed. You and I have both seen it since my arrival. Even since Alice’s arrival, she has changed.”

  “She does seem to be wilting away.”

  “Especially over the last week.” It was not difficult to understand what Camellia was implying. She thought I, for whatever reason, was causing my sister to decline even further.

  “I don’t want to tell you how to manage your own home, but I think it would be wise to keep Alice away from your wife and, especially, your child until we know she is safe.”

  “Alice wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Charles said, though his voice was weak. It sounded as though he barely believed what he was saying. “I don’t believe that is necessary.”

  “Perhaps not, but isn’t it better to be cautious now rather than sorry later?”

  I wanted to go down and argue on my own behalf, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, I wanted to speak to Catherine, and if Camellia got her way, soon enough, I wouldn’t be allowed to.

  I tiptoed across the hallway to my sister’s room and pushed open the door, but the second I tried to step inside, I was accosted by Nurse Gray.

  The petite woman was surprisingly formidable, and she forced me into the hallway without ever physically touching me. She walked forward with long steps, making me walk backwards so we didn’t run into one another. Once I was in the middle of the hallway, she pulled Catherine’s door shut behind her.

  “I was just coming to check on you,” she said. “I’m glad to see you had a good night’s rest.”

  I studied her face for any sign of whether or not she’d slipped some of her sleep aid into my water, but her face was blank and clinical.

  “I had an unnaturally deep sleep,” I said. “I slept through breakfast, which I’ve never done before.”

  “To be expected,” Nurse Gray said matter-of-factly. “You endured a great deal yesterday, and your body needs time to recover. In fact, you should go back to bed now. I’ll have breakfast brought to your room.”

  She held out her hand, ready to lead me back to my room, but I dodged her. “Actually, I feel well enough to go downstairs.”

  She clicked her tongue at me. “The worst thing anyone can do for recovery is to overexert oneself too soon. Believe me, I’ve seen it done time and time again. No, it will be better for you to rest today.”

  As much as I wanted to remind Nurse Gray that she was not hired to be my nurse and that perhaps she should mind her own business, I felt quarreling with the woman would be an even bigger overexertion than going down to breakfast. She would not give up without a fight, and even if I did win, my prize would be spending time with Charles and Camellia minutes after they’d been “secretly” discussing my sanity.

  I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable with that experience yet. They would probably take my awkwardness as yet another sign that I was mentally unfit to go near my own sister. For right now, as much as I didn’t want to agree with Nurse Gray, the best thing for me to do would be to remain in my room for awhile longer.

  Sensing my resignation, Nurse Gray pressed her cold hand to the middle of my back and directed me back to my room.

  11

  Nurse Gray delivered tea with my breakfast, and despite the thirst burning in the back of my throat, I didn’t drink it. I had things to do and could not waste the day in sleep. So, when she left me to eat, I poured the tea from my bedroom window.

  The toast, however, I ate readily. I slathered it in warm butter and jam and couldn’t believe how much more like myself I felt once I was done. My muscles still ached and the bruises and scratches I’d earned from my run through the moors still stung when I allowed my mind to focus on them, but on the whole, I felt recovered enough. I wouldn’t dare say such a thing to Nurse Gray, though.

  When she came back for my breakfast tray, I feigned sleep. I threw one arm over my eyes and pressed my cheek into my pillow, facing away from the door. She hesitated next to my bed, watching my breathing. I must have convinced her because, a moment later, she took my tray and left the room. Then, knowing she would not check on me for a while, I listened at the door for her footsteps to descend the stairs. Once they did, I slipped out of my room and crossed the hall to Catherine’s.

  The curtains were drawn when I walked in, the room dark, but I saw movement in front of one of the windows. The figure turned, wide eyes glowing in the darkness, and I realized it was Catherine. When she saw it was me, her expression smoothed over and she turned back to the curtains and pulled them open all at once.

  Light streamed in, blinding me, and I squinted against it.

  “I thought you were Nurse Gray.”

  “She went downstairs,” I said.

  Catherine nodded and turned back to me. “I know. I’ve been pretending to drink my mid-morning cup of tea and waiting for her to leave so I can walk about the room. If it were up to her, I think I’d sleep my life away.”

  “I wasn’t sure it was necessary, but I skipped my own tea so I could come and see you,” I admitted. “She does dose it with something, then?”

  “She must,” Catherine said. “I’m ready every morning to begin my day, but after that tea, all I want to do is lie back down. I’m sure she means well, but I’m tired of being tired.”

  I wasn’t so sure Nurse Gray did mean well, but I also had more important things to discuss with Catherine. Luckily, she broached the subject herself.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, eyes narrowed at my appearance. She walked forward slowly, careful not to stamp on the wood floor and alert anyone downstairs to movement, and touched her hand to my cheek. “You are covered in scratches. I heard some commotion last night, but Nurse Gray told me it was nothing to worry about.”

  I motioned for Catherine to sit down in the rocking chair in the corner, the one usually reserved for Nurse Gray, while I perched on the edge of her bed.

  “You’re being cryptic,” she said nervously. “Are you all right?”

  “Beyond some bruises and scratches, yes. I’m fine and so is everyone else.”

  Catherine took a shallow breath and nodded, relieved.

  “However, something has happened, and I want to hear your opinion on the matter.”

  “Everyone else already knows?” It was more a statement than a question, and her mouth pinched into a tight line at being left out of household discussions.

  “I wanted to come to you immediately, but they were worried it might upset you.”

  “Alice, please. Out with it. I don’t want to live in this suspense forever. If everyone else already knows, I don’t want to be in the dark for another—”

  “I saw something out on the moors.”

  My sister’s mouth hung open, words still unspoken, but her eyes were expressive enough on their own. They widened until I could see a ring of white around the blue, alert and focused on my face. “What did you see?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “I ran away before I could understand what it was exactly, hence the scratches and bruises. The commotion you heard last night was me being brought in by Camellia and Charles. I don’t remember much of it until I woke up in bed later with Nurse Gray by my bedside. They think I’m mad, Cat.”

  She flinched at the word and then nodded for me to continue.

  “I saw figures dancing around a fire, dark robes, and I heard…screaming. Screeching, really. It chilled me to my bones, and I couldn’t stay to investigate. I ran.” I gripped my knee and shook my head. “I’m sorry. I wanted to stay to solve this all for you, but I couldn’t.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Catherine said, standing up and pacing across the room.

  “You are?”

  She nodded and lowered her head, eyes cast to the floor. “My mind was muddled for so long because of exhaustion and the medications and fear, but as I�
�ve stopped taking so many of Nurse Gray’s draughts, my thoughts have cleared, and I’m no longer certain of what I saw.”

  Catherine spoke nervously, her words disjointed in strange places, as though she was forcing the words out. As though she was trying to recall some half-memorized speech.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” her shoulders drooped, and she sighed wearily, the sound coming from her very core. “I mean that I am no longer certain of what happened to me. Not as certain as I am that my story as it was upset everyone in my life. If I carry on speaking of ghosts, my family will fall apart. I will waste away in this room, memorizing the patterns of the wallpaper.”

  “Catherine.”

  “No.” My sister held up her hand to quiet me. “I’ve made up my mind. Exhaustion overtook me on my walk, and I fell and hit my head on a rock. Just as everyone said. I have no proof anything else happened, so—”

  “I am your proof!” I said a bit too loudly. Catherine flinched and glanced towards the door, reminding me why she was saying any of this in the first place. Because my sister was afraid to exist in her own home. I pressed a hand to my chest and softened my voice, speaking earnestly. “I saw something yesterday that I can’t explain, Catherine. I saw things that mimicked the story you told, and I believe you. I know I didn’t at the start, but I am telling you now that I do.”

  Catherine stared at me for a long moment, her blue eyes pale and sad. Then, she crossed the room and took my hands in hers. She studied our entangled fingers for awhile before she ran her thumbs over my knuckles and looked up at me. “You believe me, and now they think you’re mad, too.”

  She dropped my hands and walked back to the rocking chair, lowering herself slowly like she was a much older woman. “My guess is that Nurse Gray is downstairs right now working on a theory of shared delusion. She and Charles and Camellia would sooner believe that than believe in ghosts. They are not like the Wilds.”

  The casual mention of her neighbors caught me by surprise. According to the Wilds sisters, Catherine had not been to see them for a very long time, although Charles still made regular visits. How much did she know about their beliefs?

  “Have you spoken to Margaret and Abigail about what you saw?”

  Catherine shook her head. “There was no need. I knew they would believe me. The first time I met them they became convinced I was the reincarnation of their dead sister.”

  “Dorothea?” The likeness between Dorothea Wilds and Catherine had been uncanny to me, but the women had treated it as insignificant. Now, it was clear they believed differently. Or, at least, used to believe differently.

  Catherine shrugged and waved a hand. “I’m not sure. They made me uncomfortable with such talk, so I stopped visiting them. The point is, Alice, that no one here in this household believes in such things, and I’m not so sure I do, either.”

  “You truly believe you fell and hit your head on a rock, then?”

  Her mouth opened, ready with an answer, and then closed. Finally, she spoke on a sigh. “Maybe it was a rock or maybe I was attacked. I don’t know anymore, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “How can it not matter if you were attacked?”

  “Because I’m safe now,” she said. “As soon as I prove to them all that I am not insane—that I’ve come to my senses—life will continue on as it was before.”

  “You said the house was cursed, Cat. You told me when I arrived that you needed me, and now—”

  “Now,” Catherine said, interrupting me. “It may be time for you to go back to London.”

  Seeing shadows and figures on the moor had not made me feel insane, but suddenly, I felt absolutely mad.

  I’d come into my sister’s home to correct a problem that no one else seemed to think was a problem anymore. Even my own sister who was willing to admit she may have been attacked by an unknown person, didn’t seem to concern herself with finding out who it was or for what reason they may have wanted to attack her.

  “I’m sorry I sent you that message and asked you to come here. This was never your problem to solve, and I shouldn’t have sent for you.”

  “You should have sent for me sooner,” I corrected. “Long before things got to this state. You may be fine with the way things are going in this house, but I’m not. Because I was there all those years when you grew up daydreaming about your future, and never once did it involve a shabby house in the country with no friends and a personal nurse.”

  “Alice.” Catherine’s words were a warning, but I couldn’t stop. If I did, I was afraid I’d never get to say what was on my mind. What needed to be said.

  “I know Charles is a good man, but he is allowing his sister and your nurse to run this house. He is allowing your voice to be drowned out, and I can’t leave you here like this knowing you aren’t happy.”

  “How do you know I’m not happy?” Catherine’s face was flushed, and I didn’t know if it was with anger or fever. What if she really was ill and my angering her was making it worse?

  “Because you are locked away in this room, not even allowed to be a mother to your own child.”

  Her cheeks burned scarlet, and now I knew for certain it was rage on her face. Frustration and embarrassment.

  “Get out, Alice.”

  I shook my head.

  “Get out,” she repeated. “I’ve been understanding up until this point, but now I am ready for you to leave. You are making things more difficult for me.”

  “I am the only person who is willing to tell you the truth.”

  Her lip curled back in anger, an expression I’d seen time and time again in my youth, usually after I’d snuck into her room and taken one of her dolls or rearranged her jewelry. Though, I hadn’t seen this look in years.

  I knew my sister better than almost anyone, and I knew she wasn’t happy with the way things were going. More than that, I knew she didn’t really believe her “accident” on the moors was no longer a mystery worth solving. Catherine simply wanted to make everyone else comfortable, something the Catherine I knew never would have bothered herself with. I suspected it came from her desire to be part of the family again. To be part of the life happening inside of her house, including her daughter’s.

  Catherine would do anything to be with her husband and child again, including ignoring her own thoughts and fears in favor of assuaging theirs.

  I, however, didn’t have the same impulse. My loyalty would always and forever be to my sister, whether she wanted it or not.

  Rather than continuing to argue, Catherine stamped loudly on the floor several times. It took me a second to realize what she was doing, but then I heard the footsteps on the stairs. Nurse Gray was coming.

  “I think my visits with Abigail and Margaret Wilds stirred my imagination. Their tales of spirits on the moors came to the forefront of my mind as soon as it became dark and I realized I was lost.”

  Camellia looked at her brother, eyebrows drawn together in suspicion, but Charles’ face was flooded with obvious relief. He smiled and nodded, encouraging me to continue.

  “Then, when I spoke with Catherine and realized she no longer believed she’d been attacked, I began to see how silly I was being.”

  Catherine leaned into Charles’ side, and he laid a hand on his wife’s knee, squeezing it tenderly.

  It felt like a betrayal to be sitting in front of all of them and lying. To convince them that they’d been right all along—that Catherine had been unwell and in need of medical intervention in order to find clarity. However, there was no other way. If I wanted to have any kind of freedom within the walls of this house again, I had to lie now. I had to lure them all into complacency.

  The plan came to me the moment Nurse Gray walked into Catherine’s room.

  Her eyes had been narrowed in displeasure, like she was our mother and had caught us sneaking puddings before dinner. But when I’d told her our revelation, she’d been amazed. As had Catherine.

  “What are you doing?” my
sister had whispered as we walked down the stairs to the sitting room, the rest of the household gathering at the behest of Nurse Gray, who was eager to show off the success of all of her work.

  Catherine didn’t have as many worries now that Hazel was in her arms, though. Her daughter was bouncing on her lap, her husband was stroking his finger along her knee, and for the first time in a very long time, there were smiles in the room.

  Except for Camellia.

  “Is this really true, Catherine?” she asked softly. “You seemed so certain of your story just earlier this week when your sister arrived. What changed your mind?”

  “Clearly it was Alice,” Charles said, winking at me. “Catherine called for her sister because she knew what she needed more than we did. Alice arrived and helped set things right.”

  “But just last night—”

  Charles cleared his throat and turned on his sister, shaking his head. Everyone knew what had happened last night, but he still didn’t want to dampen the happy moment with talk of the past. Which was how I knew no one in this house would ever talk about Catherine’s accident again if I didn’t do it. They would never think twice about the shadows and the robes and the blow to Catherine’s head, because it was easier not to.

  Which was exactly why the task had now fallen to me.

  “Alice and Nurse Gray both helped me tremendously,” Catherine said, tipping her head towards the nurse. “Without her care, I likely wouldn’t have survived my accident.”

  Nurse Gray stepped out of the shadows and smiled, grateful for the recognition, though I could see the reality of her situation dawning. Soon enough, she’d be released from her position and sent to the next house.

  “Speaking of my duties, it is time to tend to Miss Beckingham’s injuries.” The nurse laid a hand on my shoulder and directed me out of my chair and towards the stairs, tipping her head to her employers who were cuddling their baby girl in their laps. Camellia Cresswell was the only one who watched us go, her brow lowered in thought.