I twisted in my chair to look up at him. “I wanted to ask you why you said you’d told me you were going to be at the club. You never told me that.”
He frowned, his heavy brows coming together. He ran one hand through his rough hair.
“Charlotte, I told you this morning.”
I sat up straighter.
“I didn’t even see you this morning. You were gone when I got up.”
Now he came back over to my chair. He got down on one knee, and he looked so serious that I had the strangest feeling he was about to propose to me again. Taking my hand, he squeezed it.
“I was on my way downstairs to go rowing and went in to check on you. But when you weren’t in your room, I found you in Mother’s morning room. On that fainting sofa by the window.” He gestured across the room as though we were there instead of the library. “When I covered you with the blanket, you opened your eyes. Really, you seemed like maybe you’d been awake for hours. You said you were looking at slides?”
“I guess I fell asleep.” What else had I said to him?
“Charlotte, you said you were waiting for Eva. What did you mean?”
Why couldn’t I remember? Then it came out in a rush before I had a chance to reconsider.
“She did come to me. She was here, Press. And oh, God, she looked so miserable.”
He touched my face. I couldn’t bear the look of pity in his eyes. “You’re torturing yourself. Don’t do this. You know she’s not here.”
“She is. She touched me.” I remembered her cold fingers on my face, how the chill had lingered even after she’d left the room. “You know it’s possible.”
“Stop, Charlotte. You and I both know you must have dreamed it. I know you miss her, but this is just cruel. To both of us.”
I looked away. It was exactly what I’d known he would say.
“Charlotte.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it. It was a mistake.”
He came around the chair. “Listen. Of course you dream about her. No one’s going to blame you for that.”
When I didn’t answer, he scowled. “You should stay away from that lantern. Some of those pictures scared the hell out of me when I was a kid. I’m not surprised they gave you bad dreams. But I am surprised you didn’t go back to your room to sleep. I thought you didn’t like Mother’s rooms.”
“I said I was tired.” Truly, I had no memory of going to the sofa or of falling asleep.
“Well, be careful.” He stood up, then bent to kiss the top of my head. “That old lantern is dangerous. Mother was always worried that it might start a fire.”
I watched after him as he opened the library door and left, leaving the door open behind him. The draft from the hall pulled at the fire, drawing out a few tiny embers that spent themselves in the air above the hearth. No, I should never have told him about Eva. It bothered me that I could remember every detail of what Olivia had shown me, but couldn’t remember talking to him that morning. Had he really been there? The detail about putting the blanket over me seemed to make sense. But there certainly hadn’t been any danger of the lantern catching on fire. That much I knew for certain.
Chapter 17
Counted Losses
The next day dawned clear and autumn-bright. If I had known what hell that day would bring, I might have barricaded myself along with Nonie and Michael in my bedroom the night before and not come out for several days, living on whatever Terrance (oh, perhaps not Terrance, now!) left at the door for us to eat. As it happened, I’d shut my bedroom door and undressed and put on my gown and robe, thinking I would go back into the morning room. But when I looked at my bed, an intense weariness came over me, and it was all I could do to keep my eyes open long enough to pull back the sheet and shut off the light. If I dreamed, I can’t remember. But I woke with a strange sense of urgency, as though I’d slept too long and had gone to bed with something undone. Really, wasn’t it the same urgency I’d felt every moment since Eva had drowned? I hadn’t been there to stop her, to keep her from the tub. Not now, darling. Bath tonight, before pajamas. There you go, darling. Run and play. How many more mornings would I wake with that same question? What have I left undone? Who will suffer?