“It haunts me. Every moment of every day. Even into my dreams. I pray that she is dead. That she stumbled into a ravine and broke her neck at once. The alternative is unthinkable.”
“Your devotion is admirable,” Beryl dared offer, her heart pounding. It was a risky game she played, but the lady had never spoken so freely.
“She was mine,” Caris murmured. “After Cordelia…it was another chance, I suppose. To protect her properly.”
“I will continue to pray for you, milady,” Beryl murmured. “And for the soul of Lady Cordelia and Lady Euphemia’s safe return.”
“You are a blessing from God, Beryl,” Caris Hargrave spoke to her reflection. “Such kindness you’ve shown me.” She stilled, and her head turned so that Beryl could see her profile, but the woman kept her gaze cast toward the floor. “Would you…might I impose a favor on you? It’s foolish and improper of me to ask. I know I am often confused, but I’ll not punish you if you refuse me.”
“Anything, milady,” Beryl replied.
Lady Hargrave turned her face more fully to Beryl. “Would you lie with me upon her bed for a while? Keep me company? Euphemia and I would oft share stories before retiring and…” The woman’s thin shoulders jerked. “It is fifteen years. Tonight.”
Beryl felt her own eyes ache with unshed tears. “Of course, milady. Here, come.” She helped Caris Hargrave from the window seat, and the woman seemed to lean all her slight weight upon Beryl’s arm as they reached the side of the bed. Caris climbed upon the pristine, white surface of the fresh coverlet, rested her fragile-looking skull upon her open palm while Beryl rushed to the other side and gained the mattress, facing Lady Hargrave.
She wore an exhausted, saintlike smile as she reached out a skeletal but somehow graceful hand to tuck a strand of Beryl’s hair behind her ear.
“When Lady Paget told me of your…uncomfortable circumstance that forced you to the abbey, I wondered: Did you have no parents to return to, my dear?”
Beryl shook her head, mesmerized by the sight of the woman’s face before her, the heartbreak so clear as to be exquisitely outlined on her face.
“They are dead, milady.” True.
“No family at all?”
“A brother,” she admitted.
“And where is he?”
“I don’t know.” Also true. “He could be anywhere.”
“He does not care for you?”
“He is ambitious, milady.”
Caris’s eyes narrowed and her mouth turned up in a hammock of folds. “That is the way with men, is it not?” She reached out again and stroked Beryl’s cheek with a forefinger. “They leave us to our own devices. Only returning when they have made a great mess of something and require our assistance.”
Beryl felt her own mouth curve. “They underestimate us when it suits them.”
Lady Hargrave’s smile widened with pleased surprise. “Just so. And you are a bit older now, to know so much better after your ordeal.” Her hand fell away to tuck itself between her waist and the plush bedclothes, embracing her own thin form. “I shall sleep here tonight, Beryl. I think it fitting. Will you stay with me? Please say you will. It is an unfair request after all you have done, but…”
“Of course,” Beryl interrupted, and moved closer to the woman, as if she were a magnet and Beryl composed of ore. “Of course I will, milady. I would not leave you so alone on a night such as this.” She reached over and drew the coverlet up from behind Lady Hargrave and tucked it around her. “Rest easy,” Beryl insisted. “I will be right here.”
The lady gave a series of dainty although forceful sneezes as Beryl withdrew.
“Oh dear,” she said with a sniff. “Have you by chance been in the unfortunate company of a cat, Beryl?”
Beryl hesitated only the briefest moment, her heart pounding. “Nay, milady, I—” She swallowed the lie. “Oh, yes! Yes, I have. When I was in the kitchen preparing the tray. Looking for an easy supper, I suppose. I removed it forthwith.” True.
The lady wore an expression of relief. “The next time you see it, do have it killed. Dreadful creatures. I cannot abide them. The asthma, it is brought on by the horrid things. I nearly died once. You’ve probably heard.”
“I have, milady.” Unfortunately, true.
Lady Hargrave’s solemn countenance was luminous in the candlelight, her pupils enlarged so that all the iris appeared black. “I want to tell you a secret—”
The hinges of the door squealed as it opened with a whoosh of air, causing the fifteen candle flames to duck and then dance in indignation. Nothing so loud, so sudden, ever went on inside this sacred chamber, with its thick draperies and carpets.
Beryl’s eyes went wide, and she looked over her shoulder to see Darlyrede’s steward step into the chamber, his hand still on the door latch.
“How dare you,” Lady Hargrave whispered, pushing her slight form up onto one hip, the coverlet Beryl had so carefully tucked sliding away.
“Forgive me the intrusion, Lady Hargrave,” Rolf rushed, one palm held toward her beseechingly. “Forgive me. We have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” the lady hissed. “A visitor? Why would I ca—”
“A man claiming right to Darlyrede House, my lady,” Rolf interrupted, and it was only then that Beryl could make out the sheen of sweat glistening on the usually collected servant’s forehead. “He is demanding entrance.”
“Well, turn him away and be done with it,” Caris sputtered. “I have had enough of these tales of errant heirs. Is Lord Hargrave not in attendance?”
“He is, my lady.”
“Well?”
Rolf’s face was expressionless, but Beryl could see the distress just under the man’s pale skin. “The watchman has spotted an army riding behind him, my lady. His lordship has suggested that perhaps you would prefer to remain within the safety of your own
