Page 47 of Now Comes the Mist

“Well, then, we should throw them together a few more times,” my mother says with a dazzling smile. “Perhaps if I had a tall, dark, and handsome count on hand, we could finally induce her to come over for tea. What do you think, Lucy?”

“Oh, Mamma, do leave the poor woman alone,” I say, exasperated. “I have always liked her despite her aloofness. She clearly enjoys her solitude, and I think she is brave for remaining unmarried. In fact, I envy her the freedom of widowhood.”

“Lucy!” Mina says, shocked.

I shrug. “It is plain to see that Mrs. Edgerton has had a difficult life,andshe was married to an old man. We ought to leave her in peace and let her be unattached if she likes.”

“Perhaps she only remained so because the right man never appeared … until now,” says my mother with mischievous sparkle, unbothered by my protests. She glances down at my arm, which is linked in hers. “Why, Lucy, have you left your reticule behind?”

I sigh. “It must still be on that table. I will go back.”

“Let me. You ought to go home,” Mina offers, but I shake my head and hurry off, eager to be alone. I have had more than enough of other women fussing and blushing over Vlad for today, after more than a month of having him to myself. I fume as I stalk back toward the post office, thinking he might have spared me a kind word today after all the time we have spent together and after I had almost caught my death of cold last night on his account.

My reticule is not on the table. I bend to look beneath it, frustrated, and when I straighten, Vlad is standing next to me. My little blue silk handbag is dangling from his long fingers.

“Did you steal my reticule?” I ask, annoyed.

He holds it just out of reach, his eyes bright. “How else could I speak to you alone?” he asks, keeping his distance with all the curious eyes on us. I am sure we make a striking pair: me in cornflower blue with my hair swept up beneath my hat, and him tall and imposing in all black.

“You didn’t seem very keen to speak to me when Mina was here,” I say coldly.

“Lucy, please don’t be angry with me,” he coaxes, handing me my reticule as though it is a peace offering. His voice is soft with regret. “I was trying to protect you. We wouldn’t want Mina to realize that you are more to me than just a stranger, would we?”

I loop the chain over my arm. “You have no shortage of willing company now, so I am no longer necessary. Perhaps you will find someone more worthy of knowing about your journey.”

“Come to me tonight and I will tell you everything. I promise.” His hand reaches out to touch my arm, just stopping short. “You know how much you mean to me. You weren’t jealous, were you?” He speaks in a kind, pleasant, and cajoling way, so reminiscent of our earliest evenings together, but on his face is a smirk that strengthens my resolve.

“I will not be coming tonight. Good day,Count,” I say, turning on my heel.

Vlad walks beside me, matching me step for step. “Ididwant to tell you what happened on theDemeter, but I couldn’t until we were alone. You understand that, don’t you?”

My curiosity is unbearable, but he knows it and he is smug, and he thinks he can beckon to or ignore me as though I am a dog. I stop in my tracks and look up at him. “I cannot see you anymore, Vlad. You are here in town. You have met people I love. I do not know how any of this is possible, but Idoknow that it is no longer a dream atop the cliffs. It is a reality now, and it is dangerous.Youare dangerous.”

He takes a step closer to me, his eyes moving all over my face like a caress. “When did danger ever frighten you, my Lucy?” he asks softly.

“You hurt me last night,” I say, unable to keep my lips from trembling. I turn away from him. “The pain in my head, the invasion of my thoughts. I don’t know how you did those things, but it was not the act of a friend. And you hurt me today by ignoring me.”

“I am truly sorry,” he says quietly. “I only wanted to know what you were thinking. I want to be important to you, the way you are to me. Let me make amends.” He bends to look beneath my hat, his face earnest. “Come tonight and you will know all. I give you my word.”

I look up at him, torn between fear and frustration, curiosity and longing. As I hesitate, the clouds shift in the sky and sunlight bursts out upon Whitby in all its blinding radiance. I shield my eyes with my hand, but when I lower it again, Vlad is gone and I am standing alone.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

That night, in my dreams, I find myself on an empty stretch of beach in front of a stately house, white with blue shutters, standing snug against the rocks and facing the sea. It looks like a fairy tale, all drooping vines and beach roses blooming against the sand. Light winks from one of the windows. Through the fog, I climb onto the veranda, find the door open, and enter an elegant and sumptuously decorated hall. Gold framed art hangs on the walls, curtains spill puddles of dark brocade upon the rich carpet, and fresh flowers burst from marble vases on every surface.

I hear harp music as clear, golden, and sparkling as champagne, the melody rising and falling as naturally as breathing. I follow the sound into a parlor lit by dozens of slim white candles and find Diana Edgerton on a velvet stool beside a great, shining brass harp, her dainty fingers plucking its strings with practiced ease and confidence.

“Mrs. Edgerton?” I ask, surprised.

She neither responds nor looks at me. In fact, she seems to be asleep. Her gleaming light brown hair hangs about her shoulders in waves, her eyes are half-closed, and her lips are parted as though in ecstasy. Her lace nightdress is slipping, revealing a round white shoulder as she plays the harp. A dark ribbon woven into her hair cascades down one side of her neck. I cannot help staring, never having seen the shy and retiring widow so full of life and passion.

“She bloomed like a rose for me,” Vlad says, and I turn to see him on a sofa nearby. “Her soul has been sleeping for years and unfurls only with her music. What depths she conceals, what secret desires no man can satisfy, least of all that doddering old husband of hers. She is not likeyou, Lucy, with your anger and ferocity and fathomless longing right at the surface.”

“Why are we here?” I ask uneasily.

“I thought I would expand your social circle.”

“Why have you called to me when you already have company?” I ask, affronted. “You said you would tell me everything when we were alone, and we are not.”

---