Chapter Nine
After a quiet night, by Lost Bride Manor standards, Sonya gave Cleo the seal of approval on hair, makeup, wardrobe. Then she waved her friend off for the sailing photo shoot.
After shutting the door, she looked down at Yoda and Pye.
“Another attic Saturday for us.”
When the doorbell bonged, Sonya just rolled her eyes.
“Oooh, doorbell ringing and no one’s there. Scary.”
As she started up the stairs, the servants’ door creaked open.
“Eek! Creaky door opens. Terrifying.”
She nudged it closed as she passed, grabbed another pack of sticky notes from her desk, then continued up.
On the third floor, doors flew open, slammed shut.
“You could always try rattling chains and moaning. Those are classics for a reason.”
In the attic she found all the dustcovers removed and folded into neat stacks.
“Thanks, Molly. That does save time. And there it is! That’s the vanity Catherine used on her wedding night.”
Directly in her line of sight, so she concluded someone on the helpful staff had moved it to make it easy for her.
“Thanks. It’s really beautiful.”
She made her way to it and ran a hand over the wood. Wood that felt freshly polished.
“It’s not too big, and I love the shape of the mirror. All the little drawers. Maybe we can shift some things around and put it back in the room. It feels right.”
She opened drawers, and in the one on the left found a pair of hair combs.
“Oh, I wonder if these were Catherine’s. I think they’re mother-of-pearl—Cleo would know for sure. They’re pretty, but simple, like for a young woman.”
She set them on the top of the vanity, opened more drawers.
And found the hairbrush Arabelle had used to brush Catherine’s hair.
“I saw this.” Gently, Sonya ran her fingers over the bristles. “So soft. And I think this is ivory. Simple again. We’ll put it on the vanity, I think, in remembrance. And Trey was right.”
“About what?”
If it were truly possible to jump out of your skin, Sonya would have.
Brush in hand, Sonya whirled. “Jesus, Trey, you scared the crap out of me!”
“Sorry. I thought you heard me coming.”
He moved to her, gave her shoulders a rub. “I called out a couple times. I guess you didn’t hear that either.”
“Didn’t. Jump scare aside, hi.”
“Hi.” He leaned down, kissed her, lingered over it.
“I didn’t expect you for a while. You either,” she added, and rubbed Mookie. “Or you.” She gave Jones the same greeting.
“I bunked at Owen’s last night due to beer and poker. I left when he left, stopped off for a shower and a change.”
Glancing around, he noted the folded dustcovers. “You’re getting an early start on this.”
“I credit Molly there. But I’ve already found a treasure. It’s Catherine’s. They’re Catherine’s,” she corrected. “The combs, the brush, the vanity.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw her sitting at it, saw her mother brushing her hair. Her wedding night. It was like the time I saw Astrid and the little party in the parlor, Lisbeth and that party in the music room. But I was aware, awake. I heard voices,” she continued, and told him.
“You’ve seen five of them now, beyond when Dobbs took their rings.”
“That’s true. I hadn’t thought of it, but that’s true.” As she spoke, she opened the rest of the drawers on the vanity, but found nothing. “All of them except Marianne and Agatha. And we found Marianne’s journal. I’ve read most of it, and it’s almost like seeing her.”
“Logic—this logic anyway—says you’ll see her and Agatha at some point. And, hopefully, talk to them.”
“And maybe gain a clue. The rings aren’t hers, don’t belong to Dobbs, so I can get them back. I have to believe that.”
She stood, scanning the attic.
“But it really helps to know it.” She set the brush down, then pointed. “That armoire was in the room.” She walked over to go through it. “No need for it now that there’s a closet, and it’s too big, but I’d like to move the vanity in there.
“Empty.” She closed the last drawer on the armoire.
“I’ll start over there. So, what was I right about?”
“Huh. Oh! About being meant to find these things. The marbles, the journal, the yo-yo, now the hair combs, the brush. It’s more taking ownership, I guess. But for them. And I don’t think Dobbs likes it.”
He went through a highboy. “Did she act up some?”
“Definitely. You know she’d been mostly quiet for days. You had to figure she was planning something.”
He stopped what he was doing to watch her as she opened one of the trunks.
“And what was it?”
“I was shutting down for the day when your mom sent some of the photos. Having you out playing fetch with Mookie? Genius, by the way. You both look great.”
“What does that have to do with Dobbs?”
“I wanted to get Cleo, show her, so I ran up to her studio. I think maybe Dobbs was holding off until we were both up there.”
“For what, Sonya?”
Enchanted by the dresses in the trunk, she didn’t notice his tone.
“To cut loose. Big-time. Just opening the door of the Gold Room at first, and saying my name. As if I’d fall for that. We were having the storm, and then we were having the storm inside the Gold Room. Wind, thunder booming, then glass breaking.”
As she went through the trunk, she relayed what happened up to the fire, the floor in the hall collapsing.
“And you didn’t think you should call me, tell me you were in trouble?”
Now the tone got through. Holding the pink frock she’d seen Lissy wearing in the music room, Sonya rose.
“It happened fast, and things were, you could say, pretty damn fraught.”
“And after, any time after? Like maybe, I don’t know, when I texted you to ask how things were going?”
In Sonya’s experience, Oliver Doyle III had a long, slow-burning fuse. Clearly, he’d reached the end of it.
“I would have, but—”
He interrupted in a tone so cool she felt the chill from feet away. And her hackles rose with it.
“You agreed to call me, Sonya, when there’s trouble, and I need to trust you will.”
“And I would have except for two reasons. The most important? We handled it. Which I’ll explain if you just listen to the whole thing before getting mad. And second, which matters to me, you and Owen had a night off.”
“From what?”
“From looking out for me, protecting me, which is why you left to come here when you knew Cleo was meeting Owen and your mom. As much to look after me as to help me go through all this—this stuff.”
“So now I need a night off from you, like you’re a chore?”
“No. Jesus.” She laid the dress on a table, then shoved her hands through her hair. “You know that’s not what I meant, and you’re harassing the witness. I would’ve called if we’d needed you, and if you’d let me finish, I’ll explain. You can cross-examine me after.”
Now his tone heated up, and his hands went into his pockets. “This isn’t a trial, and I’m not in lawyer mode.”
“Sure feels like it.”
“Damn it, Sonya. You’re telling me, now, that you and Cleo were being attacked, that you were trapped with the goddamn house falling apart around you, fire, flying glass, and no way out of the studio.”
“But none of those things were real.”
“And you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t mean those things couldn’t hurt you.”
“But they didn’t.” She threw up a hand before he could speak again. “Just let me finish. Were we scared? Absolutely. It did seem like the house was falling apart, burning. It did seem real. Then Dobbs, she just, just glided down the hall over that freaking pit of fire.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“She started to cast another spell, I think. Or maybe she just likes talking in rhymes.” Now she paced as she spoke while Trey stood still and annoyingly controlled.
“My death in fire and blood, she’s going to wash away my bones in a flood, blah blah. And she ends with the house is mine for all time. Hers, I mean. It really pissed me off. I grabbed one of Cleo’s rocks and threw it at her.”
“You threw a rock at a dead, insane witch while the house was burning down.”
“Yes!” Her fuse, not nearly as slow-burning, reached its end as she spun around to face him.
“Was I supposed to just stand there and go Help! Help! And it fucking worked, okay, so you can stuff your condescension. Cleo said it’s a hag stone, wards off evil and whatever.
Maybe, given the logic of the manor, that’s why that particular rock came to hand.
But it hit her, square in the chest, and it hurt her.
It shocked her because she expected me to just stand there, helpless.
It shocked her, and it hurt her, and she vanished. She vanished, and it all stopped.”
He said nothing for a moment, then, “I need to see this rock.”
She pulled one out of her pocket. “This is one like it. Cleo’s keeping the other because we think it may have some of her blood on it.
“It went right through her,” Sonya murmured as Trey took the stone and studied it. “It hit. I saw it hit, then … It was there on the floor in the hallway after.”
She put it back in her pocket when he handed it to her.
“It’s not very big, but it did the job. And ask yourself this, because I did. Why didn’t she press the advantage and come at us in the studio?”
“Because she can’t.”
Now she took a moment. “You’d already figured that out. Good for you. Whatever Cleo’s got going in there must work.”
“Add that’s where you’ve found the portraits. I don’t diminish Cleo, but I think she’s got some help there.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She took a breath. “That sounds true.”
He walked over, all the way to the attic windows, and threw one open. For the sea air, Sonya supposed. For a little cooling off.
She didn’t think the same would work for her.
“I need to know you’ll call me.”
“I explained why I didn’t. You can’t be here twenty-four hours a day. You have work, just like the rest of us. Things you need to do outside that. Family and friends to keep up with. You have to trust me to know when to send out a distress call.”
“Not just distress, Sonya. I’m sitting around eating burgers with Owen when you’re going through this. I’m hanging out, bullshitting, and playing cards without a clue.”