Thirty minutes later, I stood on a tree-lined lane to the east of Wych Elm House, adjusting the camera on the tripod. There was frost on the ground and the wind bit my skin, but the sting of the cold had helped dissipate the nightmare and settle my mind.
I had found a pretty view on a back road on the border of the neighboring property, a rustic path beneath a proscenium of thick autumn trees. I had set up the camera on the tripod and was tinkering with it, trying to get the best view before the sun rose too high. It was six thirty in the morning, and I was due to report to Dottie at eight.
I had not forgotten that the children of Anningley were afraid to play in these woods, claiming that Frances and Princer haunted them. I had seen a mist under the trees from my window, and I had sometimes heard the throaty bark that did not sound exactly like a dog. Yet still I was here, alone, as the sun came up and traced an edge on the night’s chill. It was an act of desperation, an act of exhaustion, and something of a dare. There was no safety from ghosts in the house, after all, and the woods fascinated me, drew me. When I was outdoors, my stifling thoughts lost some of their stranglehold on my brain.
To my surprise, the faint hum of a motorcar broke the silence, the only man-made sound in the quiet of dawn. I pulled myself away from the camera’s viewfinder and turned toward the sound, which came from somewhere near the house. The motor stopped, and after a moment I saw a figure approach me, coming down the lane. I recognized it instantly, and I watched with wariness as it came closer.
“Good morning,” Robert said, his long wool coat flapping in the autumn wind. “I saw you from the bend just over there, through a gap in the trees as I drove by.”
I did not reply. He wore the same suit as last night, now rumpled. I knew that he’d left shortly after the family finished dinner. So he hadn’t been to bed, then—at least not his own bed.
“You look disapproving,” Robert said. In the growing light, I could see the harsh lines of dissipation on his face, the pouchy aftereffects of a night of drinking. “Don’t act such a prude, Mrs. Manders.”
I turned away and looked through my lens again.
He seemed to take this as an invitation, and stood behind my shoulder. I could smell stale smoke on him. “Do you know, Mrs. Manders, that you’ve been living at the house for weeks, yet this is the first time we’ve been alone together? When I saw you just now, it occurred to me that this is an excellent opportunity for you and me to talk.”
I thought of Dottie’s words to me on the drive here. He will tell you his behavior does not matter. Do not believe him. I recalled the misery on her face in that moment. Robert had not made advances on me, but we had never been alone together, and his wife knew him better than I did. “I don’t see what we have to talk about,” I said. “I’m your wife’s paid companion.”
“Oh, but you’re so much more than that. Where did you acquire the camera, by the way?”
I pressed the shutter and captured a photo. “It was Alex’s.”
“Was it? It’s a midwar model, unless I miss my guess. Curious that a man would buy such an expensive hobby item, then take off to fight,” he said. “Though it seems Alex had a pattern of acquiring beautiful things and leaving them behind, barely used.”
That made me stand and stare at him, color rising to my cheeks.
He laughed a teasing laugh. “You’re so easy to rile, you know.” He stepped closer, and I stiffened. “Are you worried, Mrs. Manders?” he asked, amused. “You needn’t be. I can see you’re truly Dottie’s creature. So am I, in fact—my nighttime wanderings are just my childish way of asserting my independence. But as you depend on your salary, so do I.”
Dottie would tan my hide if I played into his game, and I wouldn’t blame her. “Your marriage is none of my business,” I said, choosing my words carefully and wishing he would go away.
“Do you think I should divorce her?” he asked. I didn’t answer, and he shook his head. “Lots of people do. I admit it’s tempting, but she wouldn’t give me a penny if I left. It’s how she keeps people dancing to her tune.” He looked away, and his expression tightened. “There was a time she thought I was the handsomest man on earth. Did you know that? Even Dottie was young and foolish once. Nothing is the same as it used to be.”