Chapter Nineteen
Selena swiftly rolled away from the shadowy invader and, looking up from her bed, screamed again at the top of her lungs. The dark figure above her seemed to freeze—and then it darted away.
She heard pounding footsteps. Her door opening and shutting. Then silence.
Selena closed her eyes and lay trembling in the dark, her mind a fog of confusion. What just happened? Was she dreaming or awake?
There came an urgent knock. “Miss Taylor?” It was Miss Thompson’s voice.
Selena blinked, now fully conscious. Throwing back the covers, she rose, lit a candle, and opened the door. Moonlight from a hall window cast a muted glow on Miss Thompson’s tense form. She stood in her bare feet and nightgown, anxiety written all over her face. “Are you all right?”
Before Selena could reply, Dr. Scott rushed up, also in his nightclothes, his jaw clenched. “Who screamed? Was that you, Miss Taylor?”
“Yes.” Selena’s legs began to tremble beneath her.
“What happened?” Dr. Scott’s voice was marked by puzzlement and concern.
“I heard footsteps and then I thought I saw someone standing over my bed in the dark, holding a pillow over my face. I screamed and they ran off.” As she said the words, Selena knew how ridiculous they sounded.
“Dear lord.” Dr. Scott’s eyes flashed with apprehension.
“Did you see anyone running down the hall?” Miss Thompson asked the doctor.
“Not a soul,” he replied.
Selena glanced back at the bed. Her cheeks grew hot. “Never mind. My second pillow hasn’t moved. It’s still untouched on the opposite side of the bed. I’m sure I dreamed the whole thing.”
Dr. Scott opened his mouth as if to speak, but at that moment, three doors opened in the north hall, and Miss Goodwin, Mr. Davis, and Colonel Blackwood emerged, carrying candles.
“I heard a scream.” Colonel Blackwood was wide-eyed beneath his nightcap.
“What is happening?” asked Miss Goodwin, her face pale.
“I’m so sorry to have disturbed you all,” Selena told the assembled group. “I just had a bad dream. Please go back to bed.”
As everyone returned to their rooms, Dr. Scott asked, “Are you sure you’re well?”
“Yes. Yes. I’m fine. Again, I’m so sorry.”
Selena went back to bed, where she lay awake in the darkness for what seemed like hours, scolding herself for having an overactive imagination. And yet the dream had felt so real, as if someone had actually come into her room.
And had tried to kill her.
*
Selena awakened to a glorious view outside her bedroom windows. At last, after three long days, the storm was over!
Her spirits lifted. The sky was a cloudless, cerulean blue.
Sunlight sparkled like diamonds on the endless white expanse beyond.
The windowpane felt less cold than it had of late—a sign that a milder day was ahead.
But even if that were so, the grounds and roads might remain buried in snow for quite some time, and it could be days before a path was cleared to permit anyone to take a walk.
Selena was thankful though for the sunshine.
It would be a cheerful change for everyone, after the gloomy weather of the past few days.
Not to mention the deaths of two of our guests.
Her mind veered to the nightmare she’d had the night before.
A wave of doubt swept over her. It had been a dream, hadn’t it?
Or had someone really broken into her room with the intent to smother her while she slept? The notion filled her with sudden dread.
If so, who might it have been? Had one of the three people Selena and the doctor had questioned the day before been Maisie or Joe Webster, and had they guessed the purpose of those interviews?
She had brazenly accused Miss Goodwin of being Maisie.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have done that. Someone else might be here under an assumed name, though, someone who had overheard those interviews.
Although the servants had had the day off yesterday, they hadn’t been able to leave the house due to the weather.
Could Sam or Gladys be one of Clive Webster’s siblings?
A shudder ran through her. Had the intruder intended to silence Selena before she could expose them?
No, no, no. Selena swept these ideas away with a firm swipe of her hand. She was just overthinking the matter. It was a dream, and nothing more. So many dreadful things had been happening of late, it was no wonder that she’d had a nightmare. She would think of it no more.
After freshening up and pinning up her hair, Selena opened her wardrobe and studied its contents.
Not in a party mood, she chose her cobalt-blue woolen gown, one of her simpler dresses that she often wore while teaching school.
She added a dark-blue woolen jacket with a braid trim in the same lighter blue.
She had just left her room when another door opened at the end of the north hall. Mrs. Hillman emerged from her chamber, clad in her silk dressing gown and her ruffled nightcap.
“Selena.” Mrs. Hillman beckoned to her.
Selena crossed to her. “What is it, Mrs. Hillman?”
“I thought I heard a scream in the middle of the night. Did I dream it?”
“No. I did scream,” Selena admitted ruefully. “But I’m the one who was dreaming. I had a frightful nightmare.”
“What did you dream about?”
Selena fluttered a hand. “It was silly and not even worth talking about.”
Mrs. Hillman made a face. “I had a nightmare, too. I was in the icehouse and Mrs. Whitlock’s frozen body rose from the dead. She pointed a finger at me and cried, ‘Give me your brooch!’”
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” Selena shuddered. “How ghastly.”
Mrs. Hillman heaved a deep sigh. “This has been a most trying and ghastly week. You were right, you know.”
“Right about what?”
“You worried that something unexpected would occur. When you said that, I thought, perhaps the plum pudding might fall off the platter or a candle might set a branch of the Christmas tree on fire—that happened one year, and we put it out in half a second. I never imagined that two of my friends would perish in this very house.” Mrs. Hillman scowled. “Fate has a very dark sense of humor.”
Selena was tempted to bring up the theory about the Webster siblings’ revenge plot again but decided there would be no point. “At least the weather has cleared,” she said, hoping to brighten Mrs. Hillman’s mood.
“Yes, I’m so relieved. I hope that will bring a bit of cheer to the proceedings and that nothing else will go wrong.” Mrs. Hillman turned to go back into her room.
Selena remembered that she’d been hoping for a moment alone with her for days. “Wait—Mrs. Hillman. May I have a word?”
“Certainly. I was just going to drink my morning tea.”
Selena followed Mrs. Hillman into her chamber, a comfortable room with beautiful carved mahogany furniture and a blue-and-gold coverlet on the four-poster bed.
The older woman took a seat at her dressing table, where a tray held a bone china tea service.
“I’m sorry there’s only one cup,” Mrs. Hillman said as she poured herself a cup of tea.
“It’s no problem. I’ll have mine downstairs as usual.” Selena settled in a chair nearby.
“Now what’s on your mind?” Mrs. Hillman remarked as she blew on her tea to cool it.
Selena hesitated. She still didn’t think it prudent to tell Mrs. Hillman about Mr. Clarke’s last words for fear of overagitating her or raising her hopes and expectations, lest they were wrong about the hidden money or were never able to find it.
She had thought of an unobtrusive way to ask about dragons, though.
“It might seem as though this is coming out of the blue, but it’s been on my mind for days.” At least that part is true, Selena told herself. “I’m contemplating a lesson for my pupils for next semester about the mythology of dragons.”
“Dragons?” Mrs. Hillman’s brows rose. “What an interesting subject.”
“Yes, and I thought it’d be fun to take the girls on a hunting expedition. You know, to visit any place in the house or on the grounds that might feature a dragon motif. Do you know of any?” Selena waited, trying not to look too eager.
Mrs. Hillman pursed her lips. After a moment, she said, “I can think of one place. The folly.”
Selena’s heart seemed to skip a beat. “‘The folly’?” The Darkmoor Park folly was a little Greek temple on the far side of the grounds.
“I believe it was built in the eighteenth century by one of Roger’s more whimsical ancestors.
A completely useless structure but quaint nonetheless.
In former years, I used it occasionally as a summerhouse—for picnics and such.
There are statues in the niches and if I recall correctly, one of them might be a dragon. ”
Excitement rose in Selena’s breast. She had only visited the folly a couple of times, for it was situated at least a third of a mile away from the house, in a direction she rarely ventured.
She had forgotten that the interior was outfitted with niches and statues.
“That sounds perfect. I’d love to visit the folly and check it out. ”
“That will be impossible for a while, I’m afraid.” Mrs. Hillman nodded towards the scene outside her window, where although the skies were clear, the snow looked to be a good fifteen inches deep.
Selena frowned. Somehow, she needed to visit the folly—and she didn’t want to wait for the snow to melt away.
She considered asking Mrs. Hillman to have the groom rig up a sleigh but thought better of it.
It would be dangerous for a horse to walk out in such deep snow.
To hike such a long distance on foot by post-holing was too difficult to even contemplate.
A thought suddenly struck her. “Mrs. Hillman, did I once spy a couple of pairs of snowshoes in a closet in the mudroom?”