‘Bear with me, my dear.’
‘Of course. I do have one suggestion, however?’
He raises a curious brow but says nothing.
‘ Paley Jethan mentioned that there is an annual harvest fete. It will be late this year, but I don’t believe that should stop us. We’ll fit it in well before the winter weather.’ His expression is dubious so I hurry on. ‘Think of the good will, Uncle. Think of how grateful folk are that there is grain to harvest, fruit to preserve, animals swelling the herds, so soon after the fear of want was upon Blackwater. Just a small celebration, Uncle, the memory of it would help keep spirits high when the dark months hit.’
I hold my breath while he makes his decision.
At last he nods. ‘But you are in charge of it! And nothing must be done to add to Nelly’s burdens, or I fear even I might not be able to calm her!’
28
I’m standing in front of the door to my parents’ rooms in the closed off wing. I’ve not come here before not only because of Uncle’s warnings about the fire damage. I thought I had my bitterness towards my parents under control, that it would wait until their return, that it would be dealt with quickly once we could speak, lance the boil of my anger. But tonight...
Tonight, the waiting has become too long
Tonight, my patience has grown too weak.
Tonight, I woke from a dream of drowning.
My ankles still ached from where the phantom fingers held so cruelly. My lungs were burning from the effort of keeping my breath in. My hair was soaked to the roots, there were patches of damp on my nightgown, and I was shaking entirely.
There was barely any moonlight coming in, and the fire had died in the hearth, only a few embers glowed there. I knew nothing hid in the dark corners. I knew nothing from the sea was concealed there. But what is rational does not rule in the dark hours.
I cannot even remember the substance of the dream. Just flashes: teeth and talons and tails like whips. And a song that travels through the waters though it should not, a sound like a mourning bell ringing out my doom for all to hear. And the gleeful words When you are gone then we will be free.
And I could taste salt in my mouth; still can.
I rose and padded to the fireplace, pushed a twist of paper into the embers until it flared, then applied it to the wick of the beautiful silver lantern. Once lit, the thing threw a circle of glorious iridescent colour around the room. Then I raised it high to illuminate the far reaches of my chamber: nothing. No one.
The idea of returning to sleep was utterly unappealing – in truth I felt I would never slumber again. I could have reset the fire and sat by it to read. Or I could do what I’ve done several times since my arrival: explore the main house and its West Wing. The attics are mostly empty, just some pieces of furniture that have been stored up there for lack of a better place. No chests or boxes, nothing to go through in search of secrets or answers. Downstairs, I have been through the kitchen, parlours, guest rooms, sitting rooms, bathrooms, the study my father apparently used, and the library (more than once). In all the rooms there is so much dust that Nelly cannot possibly be doing her job. I have not been into the chambers of either my uncle or Nelly, nor have I been into the cellar (which can be reached via the trapdoor in my mother’s workroom) for its door is locked securely with three big silver padlocks just like those at Hob’s Hallow.
Nor have I been to my parents’ suite, located in the ruined East Wing, yet this evening I feel more rebellious than usual. Some nights ago, when equally sleepless, I wandered the darkened halls, and into the library. I rifled the desk drawers and in the bottom right-hand one I found, jammed at the back, a ring heavy with twelve keys (not, mind you, one to the locks on the cellar door). Nelly wears hers on a silver chatelaine around her waist – again, very fine for a housekeeper – and my uncle’s hangs on his belt. These, therefore, are spares or at least judging by their covering of dust no one’s looking for them. Thus they have been lying deep in the hollow I made in my mattress when I sliced its corner open; lying beside the jewellery pouch, and the one with most of the gold I stole from the assassin.
But now, I am here, having travelled through corridors in the wing that is supposedly ruined by fire and dangerous; it’s occurred to me only lately that there is no sign of damage on the outside of the house. I found evidence of the blaze
