Chapter 11
Gabriel escorted her back to Ravenfell. They didn’t speak much as they walked in the late morning sunshine. The words from the young man at the post burned through her still.
When they returned to the manor, she went up to her room.
She removed her hat and gloves with practiced ease to keep her hands from shaking.
To forget. But it was hard to forget. A sort of nervous energy pulsed through her.
As she glanced around her room, seeing the dust and the cobwebs and the worn furniture, she couldn’t stay in this room for another minute.
If she sat still too long, she’d go mad.
Her mind would wander into places it shouldn’t—cold drafts, crying children, ghostly whispers in the dark.
She needed something to ground her. Something to keep her occupied while she waited for responses to come in from her advertisement she placed with the Tribune.
But when she went back down the stairs, Gabriel announced lunch was served in the dining room.
Since she missed breakfast, her stomach was hollow, and she knew she needed to eat.
All through luncheon, the boy’s words echoed through her mind.
A woman’s wail. A child’s death. And Gabriel’s tone…
sharp and icy. A crack in his iron mask for the briefest of moments.
Gabriel served her cold sliced chicken previously prepared with a bit of mustard sauce, sliced fresh fruit, and a pot of tea. The warm scent of the tea was a comfort and a reminder of the home she once had with her parents.
Once he’d served her, he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving her alone.
When she finished, she decided to spend some time in the garden. If her mother loved it, then perhaps she would as well.
Gabriel returned to clear away the dishes.
“I think I’ll dedicate some time to the garden this afternoon,” she announced. “Thank you for lunch.”
He gave a nod. “The sun is strong today, miss,” he said, not quite looking at her. “You’ll want a hat.”
Victoria paused there a long moment, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. He busied himself with the dishes, turning his back to her as he cleared them away and then headed to the kitchen.
He might not have been wrong about the hat, but she wasn’t about to go back upstairs to fetch one. Instead, she headed out the front door and took the same footpath she and her uncle took the day before.
Had it only been that morning when he bid her farewell to return to the city? It seemed as though eons had passed.
She followed the footpath through the vibrant colors of the flowers, enjoying the fragrant smell. Gabriel was right in that it was a hot afternoon and the sun was burning down upon the top of her head.
Surely there was an old garden shed she could rummage through to find a hat.
She continued down the path, past the lilacs that were in full bloom and the bench she and her uncle shared the morning before when he talked of her mother and how she won best in show at the flower festival. Past the hydrangeas with their delicate petals nodding as if in quiet greeting.
As she wandered deeper, the roses sweetened the air.
She bent to one bloom, its color a striking pink, and breathed deep.
The scent should have soothed her, but there was a stillness in the air that kept her on edge.
Then she walked again toward an opening in the bushes.
Here, the path opened into a maze of low hedges shaped to perfection.
At its heart stood a stone fairy, wings outstretched, mid-flight and forgotten.
Beyond the statue half-hidden in overgrowth, a small greenhouse that looked as though it had been neglected for years.
Ivy curled over the glass walls, hiding its secrets within.
Perfect, she thought. If there was an old straw hat anywhere, it would be in there.
She headed toward it with purpose, her shoes nearly silent on the cobblestone walkway. At the door, she tried to pull it open. But the ivy kept it from budging. After a few yanks, she finally got the door open and stepped inside.
Light filtered through the dirt-smudged glass, spilling on the floor in slashes. Forgotten pots were scattered along the work table, still full of dirt. Some with dead plants that had tried to thrive without care and failed. On one end of the bench, gardening tools. A wide spade. A fork.
Something under the bench caught her eye. She bent to get a closer look.
Her breath caught as she picked it up. She turned it over in her hands. The blue dress was faded, the fabric brittle. The face was faded, too. Almost nonexistent. Wasn’t there once a smile? A memory tugged at the edges of her mind, but she couldn’t grasp it. Her fingers trembled. Why was it here?
The air shifted, dropping to a cold breeze that curled around her. With it came the scent of lilacs, potting soil, a whisper of memory so vivid it stole her breath. A memory of spending the day out here with her mother. Once. Long ago.
Her mother hummed a tune she didn’t know, while she sat on the low stool smoothing the doll’s hair.
And then a pot crashed to the ground, startling them both. Her mother sucked in a sharp breath and stripped off her garden gloves to investigate the fallen pot on the other end of the greenhouse.
As she did, the girl appeared.
“You said I could play with your doll,” the girl said, her voice flat. “You promised.”
“I didn’t promise.” Victoria clutched the doll to her chest, protective.
“You did. You did. You promised!” she wailed, her voice rising unnaturally high as she stomped her foot.
Victoria started to cry.
“Let’s go inside, Victoria.” Her mother’s voice shook. She sounded frightened.
And then her mother hustled her out of the greenhouse.
Victoria held the doll tight in her hands as she glanced around the greenhouse, sensing a presence but not seeing it. The little girl? She’d said her name was Lily.
She heard again the young man’s words at the post, sharp and unavoidable.
…wailing at night for a child lost…
“Lily?” The air crystalized when she said the girl’s name. She forged onward. “I don’t know what happened to you. But I’d like to help you. If I can.”
The voice whispered back, You can’t. No one can.
And then, everything was righted as though nothing at all happened.
That eerie sensation was gone, but it had left a lasting impression on her.
Victoria turned toward the greenhouse door.
As she reached for it, a gust of wind blew past. The door slammed shut.
She sucked in a breath, dropping the doll, and hurried to it and tried to push it open, but it was stuck.
It had taken several tries for her to get the door open in the first place on the outside.
Now she was inside and unable to shove it open. Not even an inch.
Trying not to panic, she glanced around the greenhouse looking for something to help her leverage the door. But there was nothing. Only the spade and fork discarded on the bench. On impulse, she snatched the spade, using the tip to wedge in between the door and the frame.
No luck.
Overhead, the sun suddenly disappeared. When she glanced up, she saw there were thick black clouds threatening rain.
Pounding on the door would do no good. There was no one to hear her. Gabriel was still in the house. He hadn’t followed her this time. For a moment, she wished he had as her heart drummed in her chest.
Thunder cracked, rattling the glass panes.
She threw her weight against the door to no avail. She tried again, hitting it harder. This time, it was so hard pain lanced through her shoulder. She cried out, holding her arm against her body as she stumbled backward.
Rain pelted the glass ceiling. Soft, at first. Then harder and harder. The roof on the end of the greenhouse leaked, spilling rainwater inside. Lightning sliced across the sky with the sudden thunderstorm followed by the boom of thunder.
She couldn’t get out. Clutching her elbows she stepped toward the middle of the greenhouse. Hot tears sprang to her eyes.
Her voice trembled. “Don’t panic,” she whispered, but there was a rising tightness in her chest that indicated otherwise.
Hopefully, Gabriel would come looking for her. She’d told him she was heading to the garden. But it was likely he wouldn’t come after her until it stopped raining. Until then, she was trapped here.
The trees surrounding the greenhouse swayed with the gust of wind. One branch over the roof scraped the glass with a high-pitched screech. With her gaze fixed on it, she stepped back. But the branch was so large, if it came down, it would take most of the roof with it.
She tried the door again. She shouted until her throat was raw.
Another gust of wind.
A loud crack.
She looked up just as the branch snapped and came tumbling down. She leapt out of the way. Glass shattered around her as she covered her head. When she took a step toward the bench, her foot slipped and she went down, smacking her head on the cobblestone floor.
The last thing she saw was the faded doll face staring back at her through shards of glass. Then darkness swallowed her whole.