Chapter 28
It was cold in the room when Victoria awoke despite Gabriel’s arms wrapped tight around her.
He held her that way most of the night. When exhaustion overtook her, she dropped her head on his shoulder, his arm slipping around her.
There was a comfort in the way he held her, the way he rested his cheek on the top of her head.
They must have remained that way all night. At some point, she curled her legs to the side of her, snuggling as close as possible. She didn’t recall when a blanket had been draped over them. Even so, she still felt the chill of the room.
As her eyes blinked open, she focused on the room. The soft light emanating from the window behind them, trying to press through the curtains. The candle, still on the low table, had burned down and snuffed itself out. The hearth was still devoid of a fire.
The silver tray he’d brought up was still there on the table, too. The tea cold in the teapot. The crumbs littering the plate of cheese, bread, and fruit they’d shared. They had talked long into the night. About nothing. About everything.
And now, in the bitter light of morning, she sat up. Her neck and legs were stiff. Her ankle still throbbed.
He came awake, his eyes blinking open. Confused at first and then when he saw her still there, the light returned. For a moment, there was joy. He was glad to see her.
Gabriel clutched the blanket, ready to push it off, then halted. “Where did this come from?”
“I thought you grabbed it at some point in the night,” she said, pulling her fingers through her tangled hair. “Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t.”
She stilled. They both stared at each other in silence. Each knowing there was another force at work. But who? Certainly not Lenore.
A shiver raced through her.
He set aside the blanket and got to his feet, his body stiff from remaining there on the sofa. Neither one of them wanted to acknowledge how the blanket appeared.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked.
She flexed her foot. Dull pain lanced through her. “Still hurts.”
“You rest there.” He picked up the tray. “I’ll prepare breakfast and bring it up.”
“That’s not necessary. I can walk—” She rose. The moment she put weight on her foot, she realized her mistake and sat with a hiss through her teeth.
Gabriel gave her a pointed look. “Stay. I’ll be back to get you.”
He gave her no other choice as he left the room.
Victoria leaned back in the cushion, listening to the quiet of his room, her senses on high alert.
There was something different about this house this morning.
Something not quite calm. She wasn’t sure what she sensed only that there was a thrumming wave undulating, ready to crash.
Was it Lenore’s doing? Or was it something else?
Was there some deep-seated horror embedded in the walls only now trying to seep out?
She had the truth now. She knew how Lily and Lenore died.
Just as her father knew. It must have been why he decided to leave in the middle of the night.
Perhaps her mother sensed it, too, and could no longer tolerate the sinister pulse of the manor.
She was willing to leave it all—including her prize-winning garden—to give herself peace of mind.
Of course, Victoria did not know this for certain. It was mere conjecture. But if she put herself in her mother’s place without knowing what had happened here all those years ago…well, she would likely want to put it behind her forever.
Sell it. Burn it. Tear it down. Just get rid of it. I never want to return.
The memory of her mother’s words came back to her. Her father, though, had refused to do any of those things. They never returned and instead remained in Crown Hollow.
Thinking of that now, her inheritance, she glanced up at the coffered ceiling of Gabriel’s bedchamber and thought about everything that had happened to her since the day she received the letter from the solicitor.
Was there some hidden meaning in her inheritance?
Did her father want her to find the truth?
Did he want her to finish what he could not?
Her mind drifted back to his journal. There must be an entry she had missed. She needed to make her way to her room and look at the journal once again.
She glanced at the bed and saw something resting in the center of it. Pushing herself up, she kept the weight off her foot as she hobbled toward the bed to get a closer look.
In the center was a faded blue ribbon. Frayed on the ends. As though it had seen better days. When she picked it up, she noticed it was damp. Her heart clawed its way to her throat. Lily?
“I gave you the blanket,” the small voice said.
Gooseflesh erupted on Victoria’s arms as she turned toward the voice. Wet footprints led from the door to where the ghost girl stood behind her looking up at her with wide, blue eyes.
“You looked cold,” she added.
Words froze in her throat. The girl’s gaze landed on the ribbon in her hand.
“You found my ribbon,” she said.
Victoria held it out to her. The girl eyed it, then looked back up at her.
“You can keep it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And for the blanket.”
The girl’s pale face lifted to her, wide eyes brimming with a quiet yearning that twisted something in Victoria’s chest. For a heartbeat, she thought the child might reach for her hand, seeking comfort.
The memory of her question—Are you my mother now?
—rose like a ghost of its own. She had sidestepped it then, thinking it kinder not to answer.
But now she wondered if silence had only deepened the girl’s loneliness.
A noise stirred in the hall. The girl’s gaze darted toward it. “I have to go now.”
She vanished in the blink of an eye leaving Victoria standing there holding the damp ribbon.
“Who were you talking to?” Gabriel appeared in the doorway, his face drained of color.
Victoria lifted her gaze to his. “I…”
She wasn’t sure how to tell him. She noticed the wet footprints were no longer there. As though they had vanished along with the ghost girl.
“I heard voices from the hall,” he added, as he moved back into the room. He halted and gazed down at the ribbon in her hands. Recognition flickered through his eyes. Then he whispered, “She was here.”
His hand shook as he reached for the ribbon and slipped it from her fingers. He turned it over, placing it on his palm as he stared down at it. As though trying to make his mind understand it was real.
“She was,” Victoria said, finally finding her voice. “She gave us the blanket, too.”
His head snapped up. “She told you this?”
She nodded, unable to speak. She worried her voice would shake too much. He slipped the ribbon in the pocket of his pants. A memento. For safekeeping.
“Did she frighten you?”
“No. She’s restless.”
“Like her mother,” he added.
Though it wasn’t a question, she nodded. “Yes, but different. I don’t think she understands. She…she asked if I was her new mother. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth.”
Hearing that, pain lanced across his face and she instantly regretted her words. She shouldn’t have told him that. He reached for her hands, taking them in his and giving them a little squeeze.
“Victoria…” His words cut off as he pressed his lips together in contemplation. Then, he took a deep breath. “Are you sure you want to stay?”
Worry lines creased his brow as he looked at her.
“I’m staying,” she said.
“I fear I may not be able to protect you much longer. She’s getting stronger. The house is…changing.”
It was something she had sensed, too, and nodded. “I felt it, too,” she murmured. She pulled her hands away and smoothed them down her wrinkled skirt. “I think I should change my dress.”
“At least let me escort you.”
“I think I can manage if I take it slow.” She gave him a smile. Not that she didn’t want him to escort her, but he certainly had enough worries.
She started to take a step, when he grasped her hand once again.
She turned to face him. Deep in his eyes, she saw a mixture of emotions.
Fear. Nervousness. And perhaps even love.
He lifted his free hand and brushed the back of it over her cheek, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
And in that moment, she knew how he truly felt about her.
He loved her. Though he couldn’t say it. Not with Lenore lurking in the shadows.
How he fell in love with her, she was uncertain. She hadn’t intended for that to happen.
Nor had she intended to fall in love with him.
But here she was, wrapped up in her feelings for a man who was decades older than her.
A man who had spent half his lifetime with loneliness pressing through him.
She might have questioned if he loved her because she was here with him. Because he was no longer alone.
But she didn’t.
Because she didn’t believe that of him. She believed when he looked at her with those deep, dark eyes there was life burning there. Life and a desperate need to be wanted and loved right back.
She smiled, her heart thudding hard and fast, as she leaned towards him. She wanted to whisper the words to him, but she held them back. Instead, she brushed his lips with hers, then released his hand.
As she limped out of his room, she didn’t look back. But she knew he still kept a watchful eye on her.