chapter 9
I woke early the next morning again. It was becoming a very bad habit.
Luckily Elizabeth was the only one in the breakfast room. She ducked teasingly when I took a piece of toasted bread and reached for the jam pot. I stuck out my tongue at her. It was so much more pleasant without the adults about or girls who sat up straight and smiled demurely even when they were alone. Elizabeth yawned hugely. I was exhausted too. I should have been still abed, cozy under the counterpane. We chewed between more yawns.
The sun was glistening on the last of the dewdrops when we decided to go for a walk over the hills. It was warm already and the birds sang cheerfully from the hedgerows. We left behind the roses and the hydrangea and the oak trees, cutting through the green fields.
“I can’t believe he kissed you!” Elizabeth exclaimed once we were carefully out of earshot. We were the only ones for miles it seemed, the house sitting sleepily on the hill behind us. It made me want to tear off my petticoats and run until my legs burned or spin in circles until I fell down.
“I know.” I could still feel his hands on my neck, smell the smoke and leaf of him.
“It’s so romantic. And he’s handsome. Not as handsome as Frederic,” Elizabeth said as we walked arm in arm. “But still a very good-looking young man, don’t you think? And his family’s quite rich.”
Xavier. She’d been talking about Xavier, not Colin.
“Quite handsome,” I agreed. Xavier really was handsome in his navy frock coat and gold pocket watch.
“Do you really think he’s going to propose?”
My stomach tingled, not unpleasantly. “Maybe. Why else would he want to speak to my mother?”
Elizabeth squealed and hugged me. Then she jumped up and down. Laughing, I jumped up and down with her, seeing as she was still holding on to me.
“Oh, what will you wear? Will you carry flowers?” I wasn’t going to tell her we couldn’t afford a new dress. I’d just have to wear my best gown and hope not too many people noticed I’d worn it before. “You’d look lovely with orange blossoms in your hair.”
“I think lilacs would be nice,” I said, letting myself get distracted with the details. We would have a wedding breakfast with lemon cake sprinkled with sugared violets. Mother would wear white, like a proper Spiritualist, instead of her customary black. Elizabeth would be my bridesmaid.
“A spring wedding then. Perfect.” She sighed again, her whole body heaving with emotion. “I wish I were engaged.”
“I’m not engaged!”
“Not yet, Mrs. Trethewey.” She giggled. I would be Mrs. Xavier Trethewey. I’d always found it a little curious that I should go by a man’s first name. Violet Trethewey. I giggled too. I felt as if there were champagne bubbles in my throat.
“Perhaps he’ll take you to the opera,” she added as the damp grass soaked the bottoms of our day dresses. “And oh! Perhaps you’ll go to Italy for your wedding trip! I’ve always longed to see Rome. You could get heaps of new gowns made. You’ll be so fashionable. Though it would have been nice if we’d been able to have our come-out together.”
“Elizabeth,” I said gently. “I’m not from the peerage. I wouldn’t have been making my curtsy to the queen and coming out, regardless.” That much we’d never tried to hide.
“Oh.” She pouted. “Well, you still have to help me practice. How can we be expected to back out of the room with such a long train on our gowns? What if I fall over? What if I take the rest of the debutantes with me?”
We looked at each other and giggled. I could picture it perfectly.
We crested the last hill between us and the pond that glittered between Rosefield and Whitestone Manor. Fields full of fat sheep stretched out on either side. Valleys were dark crevices filled with oak trees and mushrooms. Closer to the pond, long grass waved, dotted with wild mint, buttercup, and lady’s-smock.
And a man standing in the lilies.
He was tall and thin, his shoulders bowed as if he were in pain. He shuddered violently, even from a distance.
Mr. Travis.
“What’s he doing there?” I asked Elizabeth.
She shook her head, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. Perhaps he’s out for a walk?”
“To the pond where a girl drowned?” I frowned, suspicious. “I don’t like it.”
“He does look rather … odd.”
We approached quietly, descending the hill and climbing back up the slow incline to the pond. By the time we reached it, Mr. Travis was gone. I saw him cross into the woods that led back to Rosefield.
“Do we know why he’s here?” I asked as we stopped by the pond. “How did Lord Jasper come to know him?”
“His family lives in the village, I hear. His father’s a tailor or haberdasher or some such thing. I think he’s the only Spiritualist in the lot though. I can’t think how Rowena would have known him, though I admit I thought at first that he might be familiar.”
“How?”
“I can’t rightly place my finger on it. Perhaps it’s only my imagination. Mother has always claimed reading so many penny dreadful stories is bad for the disposition. And he’s not peerage, so she won’t allow an introduction, even here.”
Pale lilies nodded their heavy heads when the breeze rose around us briefly. The water was deep and dark. We stepped onto one of the large rocks on the bank, balancing carefully. All around us were hills crossed with low stone walls and Whitestone Manor glowing like the moon. I felt peaceful for the first time in days, despite Mr. Travis. I could spend all day here, watching the birds dive for water bugs, listening to the crickets, waiting for the odd brave bunny to hop out of hiding for a bite to eat.
And then, of course, Rowena had to go and ruin it.
If I could have found a finishing school for ghosts I would have forced her to attend. She might have been an earl’s daughter while she lived, but as a dead girl, she had ghastly manners. And I was going to tell her so, just as soon as I figured out how not to choke on my own terrified heart.
The water trembled only faintly at first, and then, under the surface, the pebbles at the bottom of the pond became eyes, brown eyes watching me. Her pale face bobbed to the surface followed by her wrists, ringed with bruises.
She reached up out of the water and tugged on my ankle. Hard. Since Elizabeth was looking down without any reaction, I knew she didn’t see anything but weeds. I, however, had felt the insistent touch of cold fingers, even through my boot. I hadn’t thought ghosts could be corporeal.
It was not a comforting realization.
I jerked back but she yanked hard enough that I stumbled, slipping off the rock. I waved my arms uselessly, like a hysterical windmill, screaming. My ankle felt as if it was wrapped in ice. Elizabeth shouted and grabbed for me. Instead of stopping my fall, she joined me, adding momentum. We tumbled headfirst into the cold water with a most unladylike splash. I flailed about, trying to remember which way was up.
The sun faded, as if swallowed by storm clouds. There was no light to pierce the water and guide me to the surface. I felt sluggish, as if I was moving through honey. It was the same odd feeling I’d had at the picnic, only worse, much worse.
The pond wasn’t this deep.
I should have hit bottom by now, or bobbed back up, but I was caught floating in between. I tried to kick but I could barely move. Water filled my mouth and my nose and I wanted to cough but even that seemed like too much effort. There was a shadow on the edge of the pond, standing in the grass, the moon a sudden bright glow behind them. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but I felt as if I knew them. Or as if Rowena did. I was confused.
And drowning.
I struggled harder, my hair floating like seaweed as it escaped its pins. My dress was heavy, weighing me down. My corset felt like iron hands clasped too tightly around my waist. My wrists were bruised and my throat burned. I had an odd taste in my mouth, medicinal and cloying. Letters rained down to bob on the pond’s surface, catching fire when they landed.
And then Elizabeth grabbed my shoulder and yanked me up, sputtering with laughter. Her hair was plastered on her neck and face.
“You look like a drowned rat!” She splashed at me, grinning.
I coughed up water, desperately hauling air into my starved lungs. I hadn’t been drowning. I’d only been under for a few seconds. Rowena had drowned.
We already knew that. She needn’t have been so violent in her reminders. My teeth chattered as I pushed the panic down.
Rowena drowned, I reminded myself. Not me.
I wished I could laugh at our clumsy tumble into a summer pond, as Elizabeth was doing. Instead, I was frantically wondering if we were floating above a dead body, if something else was going to grab me. I couldn’t get out fast enough. I slipped and went under again, landing hard on my backside. I dug for a handhold in the thick mud, palms scraping pebbles and stones. Water filled my mouth. I resurfaced, sputtering, panicking despite myself.
“Clumsy!” Elizabeth teased me, leaning back to use her feet to churn up the pond water.
“What,” a voice asked with icy disdain, “are you two doing?”
Elizabeth just laughed louder. Tabitha looked down her nose at us. A nervous giggle burst in my throat. I had to fight the urge to pull her into the pond with us. Somehow, I didn’t think it would improve her disposition. She looked elegant in her pale dress. We looked like startled cats and smelled like green water.
“Tabitha, you managed to escape both your uncle and Caroline!” Elizabeth crowed as we climbed out, using the long grass for a handhold. It was a rather ungraceful affair all around. Something tumbled from the mud caked on my hands. It glittered dully until I dipped it to rinse off the worst of the grime. My boots squelched when I moved.
“I found something,” I muttered, swallowing. It was a gold ring set with pearls in the shape of a daisy.
Tabitha paled. “Give me that.” She grabbed at it so viciously her nails left thin red welts. Her eyes were suspiciously bright.
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Is it yours, Tabitha?”
But I knew with sudden, certain clarity that it wasn’t hers at all. That ring had belonged to her sister. The white lilies shivered at her feet, etched in impossible light.
“It was Rowena’s,” she whispered, mostly to herself. When she looked up, her gaze was hot, like a burning ember tossed right at me. “Get off my uncle’s property,” she said between her teeth, “before I set his hunting dogs on you.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised practically up to her hairline as Tabitha stormed away. “Well,” she huffed. “Really.” She sat back in the grass, letting the sun warm her face. “What was that all about?” she asked curiously. She looked at me pointedly.
“What?” I asked, looking away.
She rolled her eyes. “Violet, I’m not a featherbrain. I know there’s something else going on here that you’re not telling me. I saw the spirit-board message too, remember, and it isn’t very sporting of you to leave me out.”
I bit my lip for a moment before deciding. And then I told her everything: seeing Rowena before I’d even met Tabitha, the voices in the breakfast room, the spirits at the ball, everything. Being a good friend, and more important, a girl from a Spiritualist family, Elizabeth believed me straightaway, and probably would have even before we’d used the spirit-board. I doubted my every word, but she just nodded.
“Oh, Vi, how thrilling. What does your mother say? Surely she went through something similar when she received her gifts?”
“She must never know.” I stared at her. “Promise me.”
She blinked and then nodded slowly. “All right. But then what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I groaned, flopping down onto my back and scattering buttercup petals. “I really don’t. But I have to do something. She’s getting more persistent.” I hesitated. “When I see her she has bruises around her neck and wrists.”
“No!” She sucked in a startled breath. “She really was murdered.”
I’d been avoiding that particular part of the conundrum as carefully as I would have avoided a hornet. “You said she drowned,” I reminded her, even though I didn’t believe that for a moment.
“Girls who drown don’t bruise like that, surely.” Her mouth trembled. “She must want us to find her murderer.”
I lifted my head. “Us?”
“Of course, us. Did you really think I’d just sit here and let you go on with this alone? Especially since she was a childhood friend? Honestly, Violet.” She sounded thoroughly disgusted.
I didn’t know what to say. I’d had few friends. We moved frequently and had too many secrets. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Where do we start?”
“I wish I knew.” I ran my hand through my hair, which my dunking had tangled hopelessly. “I can’t very well tell Tabitha. She hates me as it is.”
“She really does.”
I made a face. “Thanks for that.”
She patted my arm. “It’s only because you made her feel vulnerable and she hates that above all else. Oh, and she’s accustomed to being the prettiest girl in the room—and you’re prettier than she is.”
“She’s a lady, an earl’s daughter.”
“That might be, but she’s terribly vexing.”
“True.” I twisted my hair into a rope and squeezed it until it wasn’t dripping down the back of my collar anymore. “I forgot to tell you. I think I found our Mr. T-r-a last night. Mr. Travis is the man with the silver cravat pin who was at the pond just now.”
“And you waited all this time to mention it?” She gaped at me, then shoved my shoulder.
“I did just get pulled into a pond by a dead girl,” I muttered. “And possibly proposed to. And nearly crushed under an urn. I’ve been rather busy.”
“Oh, very well,” she grumbled. She paused. “Wait. An urn?” she asked quizzically.
I told her about the urn and Mr. Travis.
We got to our feet, shivering in our damp dresses. The sun might be warm on our shoulders but it was definitely time to put on something dry. We made our way back over the hills and across the tidy lawns with their perfectly groomed weeping willows.
“You know what we have to do, don’t you?” Elizabeth asked finally, with an eager grin.
I instantly felt trepidation.
And excitement.
“What’s that?”
“We are going to have to snoop.” She rubbed her hands together. “Finally, my mother’s training will be put to good use. Never mind finding an eligible bachelor, I mean to find a murderer.”