Chapter Thirteen #2
“Don’t tell me what’s best for me,” I said angrily. “Someone did this to me, and you don’t even care who!”
Nick sighed. He joined me on the floor of the bathroom and held me, but I stiffened at his touch – and not just because of the pain ripping through my skin.
“You must have forgotten to close them last night,” he said, in a patronising tone that made me want to shove him away.
“You know that’s not true. I only have them open on darker days, when it’s raining, and I always shut them at night – the drapes too.”
“Can you remember doing it? I can’t. I only remember making love with you, and that it was dark when I left to go back to my own room this morning,” said Nick.
“We had a bad night’s sleep, we were distracted by the work on Mr Taylor.
..it happens. It was a mistake. The wasp on the window – do you remember that? The shutters and drapes were open.”
I cowered against my knees, remembering. I’d been so distracted by my dream and the wasp that I hadn’t even thought about the fact that the shutters and drapes were open.
“We’ll just have to be more careful in the future, Grace, and hope that your poor skin heals up easily once the doctor’s been,” said Nick.
I was speechless, and in too much pain to argue. Margaret entered the bathroom, timidly, though she observed Nick’s arm around me with such distaste that she pursed her lips and looked away at the floor.
“All closed. All the shutters and curtains in the room and the hall. We’re due for intermittent rain and sunshine,” she said, never once looking at me. “You’d better keep inside until you’re better.”
The way she mentioned the sun irked me – like she was rubbing it in.
“What about my tonic? It was gone from the dressing table. Someone had to have taken it.” I glared at Maggie, watching her face for giveaway expressions, perhaps a smirk. There were none, but I still wasn’t convinced.
“I found it under the bed. It must have rolled under there,” she said, producing it from the deep pocket of her apron. My blood boiled to see it in her hands. “Let me help put it on you, dear. Let’s get you laid out on the bed and I’ll apply it for you.”
I reached out and snatched the pot from her hands, startling her.
“I can do it myself.” I hissed. “Just get out.”
Maggie’s mouth made a grim line and she looked as though she wanted to scold me, but her eye’s caught Nick’s and I noticed him shake his head very quickly.
They were communicating something related to the hushed conversation I hadn’t been able to hear.
I didn't have the energy to analyse it further.
I only wanted to smother myself in tonic and lay down in the dark.
The doctor came during the morning and wrapped my wrists and arms in bandages, and patched a part of my neck and jaw that had been turned towards the light and exposed to it for the longest period of time.
Mercifully the pain was the worst of it, with no permanent damage caused.
Still, I was certain someone had done this to me, and Nick and Maggie’s excuses weren’t tallying with me.
They knew something, and the moment I could leave the bed, I was determined to find out what it was.
I dozed. At lunchtime, Maggie brought me in a tray and left again.
My phone buzzed, surprising me – I was still getting used to owning one. It was so forgotten that it barely had any charge left. It was a message from Eugenie, asking to see me again. Thrilled to hear from her, I sat up and messaged her back, all-but-begging her to visit me.
When Maggie let her into the room, I had opened the curtains and shutters just enough to allow us to see one another. My skin wasn’t burning so fiercely now that it was treated and bandaged, and the sky outside had grown gloomy once more, with a light rain pattering against the window.
Eugenie was wearing her hair in the same punky style as the night I’d met her, with her eyes darkly outlined and her lips rouged.
She wore a red plaid fitted jacket with a matching heart-shaped bag, and a long black dress beneath it with black pointed boots.
When she plonked herself down on the bed next to me like an old friend, as if we’d known one another for years, I didn’t mind at all.
It was such a joy and a relief to see her.
I relayed the whole story to her, leaving nothing out, and awaited her appraisal of the events.
“Sounds suspicious to me,” she said, validating me such that I wanted to throw my arms around her and hug her. “I could imagine leaving the shutters and curtains open accidentally, but to pull the ropes so tight, and to bolt the shutters with no key...”
“There’s more,” I said, telling her about Tom after the charity night, and how he’d followed me and grabbed me by the hair, demanding I go back to the Dales with him. I told her, too, about Maggie’s disapproval of me and Nick, and my suspicion that she wanted me gone.
“But would she want to hurt you like this? That would be crazy,” said Eugenie, her eyes wide.
“I don’t know who did it, but I know someone did it, and they knew how to hurt me,” I said. “I just can’t imagine it was Tom. They were too quiet about it, too subtle.”
“Well, then, I believe you,” said Eugenie. “You should trust your instincts. If you think someone did it, then I do, too. We just have to find out who it was.”
My hand found hers and squeezed it. To have found a friend like her – even a new friend, who barely knew me, or I her – was a precious gift that I’d never been able to appreciate before. She squeezed my hand back and smiled.
“Where’s Nick today? Down in the mortuary with his ghouls I suppose?”
“He’s at one of his private Monday meetings,” I murmured, rolling my eyes.
“Sounds mysterious,” said Eugenie, releasing my hand and wiggling her fingers to indicate something spooky. “What happens at these Monday meetings?”
“I’m not sure. He says he’s meeting with some investment managers, but they’re not Dorian’s firm, and he’s never invited me to come along, even though he wants me to see all aspects of the business...”
“Not that you’ve speculated much at all.” Eugenie winked.
“He goes on foot, too. I watched him once. I was just a bit curious. He goes out into the yard as if he’s getting in the car, but he walks through the woods and returns the same way, no matter what the weather is like.”
Eugenie frowned, puzzling it over. “Interesting.”
The bedroom door opened and, to my surprise, Nick entered the room. He was suited and wore a black woollen overcoat, along with freshly polished shoes that glinted even in the half-light. He’d shaved down to a fine stubble, and his hair was styled and swept back from his austere face.
“Oh, Eugenie! It’s lovely to see you visiting Grace,” he said, blinking rapidly to see the rare bird sitting beside me. “You’re as kind and thoughtful as your brother.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Eugenie, cocking a knowing eyebrow at me. “Dorian’s nice to most people who pay him so generously.”
Nick smiled, his hands clasped.
“I pay Dorian handsomely because he provides an excellent service, and he deserves it,” said Nick. “Worth every penny.”
“I’ll let him know you said so,” said Eugenie, pretending to look disregarding, but with a smirk that gave away how proud she was of her twin brother.
“You never wanted to go into the family business?” asked Nick.
“It was never my bag I’m afraid,” she said. “I prefer to do the whole socialite thing, see the world a little, have fun.”
“Who can blame you,” said Nick. “Life’s very short. Speaking of – I’m short on time myself. I just wanted to check in on you and see that you were all right.”
Eugenie raised another eyebrow at me, noticing how restrained Nick was being, pretending we weren’t lovers.
It annoyed me, like all the secrecy did, but I wasn’t keeping my relationship with Nick from Eugenie.
It made Nick’s acting seem redundant. It made me wonder how, and why, he became so practised at putting on fronts that he was able to do it so easily.
When I took his past into consideration, and the rumours surrounding him and the fire, I could see how that ability might come in useful.
It also implied he could lie to me if necessary, if he needed to hide something.
“I’m fine,” I said curtly. “Hope the meeting goes well.”
Nick smiled and bowed his head at myself and Eugenie, like a gentleman, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
Eugenie’s head snapped towards me.
“Get your coat on.”
“What?” I asked, blinking rapidly. “No, we couldn’t – ”
“Yes we bloody could! Have you got a long black coat with a hood? A raincoat, something? I’m too conspicuous in my jacket. It’s Vivienne Westwood.”
I did, as it happened, have coats for myself and for her to wear.
I’d bought so many useful items on my shopping trip, including coats and cardigans.
The frugal penny-pincher in me felt unable to splurge on too many impractical things, while the penniless farm girl in me had been bowled over with excitement at the thought of owning several warm cardigans, and long waterproof coats.
“What if my skin gets worse? I’m supposed to be resting,” I said, though I already felt so much better, and the opportunity was far too good to pass up. “He’ll know.”
“Do you want to see what he’s up to, or not?” Eugenie stood, unbuttoning her jacket. “Get your shoes on! Quick!”
Nick’s dark figure was just disappearing into the forest beyond Crowthorne House’s cemetery by the time we got to the gravel courtyard.
We kept close to the hedges in case he turned around.
The rain came harder as we followed him into the dense trees, following a soggy leaf-trodden pathway through the forest and out the other side.
He opened a large black umbrella, and I noticed he was now wearing black leather gloves.