Page 25 of One Last Whisper

She nods. “Those tragedies never truly let us go, do they?”

"No. They don't." I sip more of my tea. "She didn't die. I thought she did for a long time. But recently, I learned that she faked her own death. Or rather, she disappeared and did nothing to stop us from thinking she had died. She moved from Boston to Monterey, California and lived there for several months, nearly a year, before leaving again."

“What happened to her after that?”

“I don’t know. I stopped looking for her.” I finish my tea and set the cup down with a sigh. “It just hurt. To know that she was alive all this time, but she didn’t want me to know.”

“Were you two close?”

“I thought we were. I suppose that feeling was one-sided.”

A lump forms in my throat. Before now, I was certain that I had forgiven Annie for her decision, certain, in fact, that there was nothing to forgive.

But thinking of the way her departure has affected me, the nightmares I’ve suffered, the brushes with insanity I’ve endured, the inescapable compulsion to fight for those who have disappeared or whose deaths have been brushed under the rug even when doing so places me in mortal danger… No, I haven’t forgiven her. She suffered, yes, but I was not the cause of her suffering, and while I was never a perfect sister, I was far better than to deserve the wound she tore from me when she left.

She escaped, but there is no escape for me.

Theresa says nothing. She simply pulls me into an embrace and holds me. We are not yet close enough that I would ordinarily accept such a gesture, but I am alone here, far from the only person Iamclose with, and I have learned that I am not yet recovered from my sister’s departure the way I thought I was.

And once more, I am embroiled in mystery.

She releases me a moment later, and I offer her a smile. “Thank you. I guess I haven’t moved on as well as I thought I had.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. You’re a good woman, Mary. It’s your sister who should be sorry. I’m sure she had her reasons for leaving her life behind, but that’s no excuse for the pain she caused you. I hope she suffered. I hope she lived to regret hurting you like that.”

I appreciate the sympathy, but the venom in her voice is a little disquieting, and while I am angry with Annie at the moment, I don’t particularly enjoy hearing a stranger disparage her. I pour some more tea and change the subject.

“Last night, when I heard the cries, I followed them. I think… I guess a part of me wondered if Sarah had somehow come to harm here in the castle.”

“Aye. Inspector Hargreaves thinks that as well.”

“You don’t agree?”

Theresa frowns. “I think it’s best not to meddle in the affairs of high lords.”

“You’ve said that twice now.”

“Twice to you, but many a time before.”

“But what about Sarah? What about the others who have gone missing?”

Her frown deepens. “Who told you about the others?”

“Inspector Hargreaves told me that Alivia disappeared from this same castle.”

Theresa sighs. "There have been rumors. There always are. Whether they're true or not is another thing entirely. Perhaps they are, and perhaps they aren't. When I say it's not good to meddle in the affairs of high lords, I think of what can practically be done to change things. Unfortunately, when the person in question is an Earl of the House of Lords, the answer is not much. Not from the ordinary folk, anyway. Now Hargreaves, if he has years, more likely decades, and consistent support from the Yard, he might be able to do something. If there's something needs to be done, mind you. I'm not at all convinced that Lord Edmund is the monster people make him out to be. But if he is, there's naught you or I can do but get ourselves hurt. Won't affect his Lordship at all."

I purse my lips and process what she’s just said. There’s nothing really wrong with it. She has simply adopted the attitude I wish I could have. And she did try. She talked to His Lordship and reached out to Sarah. Someone must have alerted the authorities, and it’s a fair bet that Theresa is the one who did. She’s just willing to accept when there’s no more she can do.

I am not.

“Anyway, I thought I heard my cries last night, so I went to investigate them. I followed them to the third floor of the castle."

“The third floor? There’s nothing up there but old paintings and his Lordship’s library.”

“Exactly. I went into the library and found the window flung wide open.”

Theresa’s eyes widen. Then she sighs. “Oh, bother. Was the furniture ruined?”

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