Page 38 of One Last Whisper

They might be right. I really can’t take it anymore. The screaming. It’s always the screaming and the moaning and the wailing of the ghosts. They’re coming for me. I don’t have long to live. I hope I am wrong, but I can feel it in my soul.

The final line is bold-faced, written so harshly that it tears the paper in some places.

Death is coming for me.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I stare at the letter for a long moment before carefully placing it back in the box. I stare out the office window at the road beyond and think about what it might mean.

Lady Alivia complained about ghosts coming for her. She heard the cries just as I do. Just as Lady Cordelia does. Just like Lady Cordelia, she believed the ghosts were persecuting her, threatening her life. It is quite possible that Lady Alivia took her own life, pushed to it by her fear and the belief that there was no escape.

In Alivia’s case, this attitude is easily explained by the fact that she was a drug addict. Lady Cordelia doesn’t mention what sort of drugs Lady Alivia used, but it’s a fair bet that it was some sort of powerful narcotic. Paranoid fantasies often accompany withdrawals from narcotics, and that paranoia can sometimes be strong enough to bring delusions and psychotic breaks.

But Lady Cordelia is suffering nearly the same symptoms, and she doesn’t use drugs. I suppose I don’t know that for sure, but I don’t see any of the physical symptoms of heavy drug use. She’s still beautiful, and her skin is still firm and supple, at least as far as I can tell. Drugs have a tendency to ravage a person, and for Lady Cordelia to suffer mentally the way she is, she would have had to be a heavy user for some time.

So what is it, then? The cries of the ghosts? If that’s the case, then why am I not also driven to insanity? I have actually suffered a psychotic break in the past, and insofar as ghosts are echoes of traumatic memories, I am haunted by my sister and to a lesser extent, my parents. So why am I able to rationalize the cries I hear, but Lady Cordelia isn’t?

I suppose I could be reading too much into this. I might be struggling to make things make sense that don’t necessarily needto make sense. What does this letter tell me for certain? It tells me that in her last days, Alivia heard voices and was in fear of death.

Just like Lady Cordelia.

I catch sight of movement through the window and look through to see the van returning. That’s odd. I would have expected them to spend the night at the hospital. Perhaps Theresa is returning with the servants.

But in Doctor Thornton’s van?

Either way, my snooping is done. I quickly replace the letters and place the shoebox back in its spot atop the refrigerator. I ensure the filing cabinet is locked, then leave the study, closing the door on my way out.

I arrive downstairs just before the front door opens. I am surprised to see that everyone has returned, including Dr. Thornton. It seems Oliver was the only person left at the hospital.

I frown quizzically at Theresa, but it is Doctor Thornton who explains. “Master Oliver has been sedated. He will sleep for the evening. In the morning, I will return to the hospital, and Lord and Lady Blackwood will arrive whenever they wish and stay for as long as they like.”

“Thank you for sharing our plans, Doctor Thornton,” Lord Blackwood says drily. “Yes, unfortunately, in our haste, the Lady Cordelia neglected to pack certain necessities. We will enjoy dinner here and return in the morning, as Doctor Thornton said.”

“I’ll get dinner started,” Theresa says, rushing toward the kitchen with Franny and Matilda in tow.

All three women are pale and appear exhausted. I’m not sure if it’s because of fear for Oliver or the tension of spending the past two hours with Lord Edmund and a rapidly deteriorating Lady Cordelia.

And she is deteriorating. She is pale and shaking, and she mutters under her breath. Lord Edmund leads her up the stairs, and she seems barely aware it’s happening. I greet her, and she doesn’t even turn to me.

Lord Edmund does, though. He fixes a look on me so cold and so hateful that I nearly wither in my boots.

But rather than discourage me, that look galvanizes me. I will discover the truth whether Lord Edmund likes it or not. And if what I discover proves that his Lordship is a murderer, then I will turn him over to Inspector Hargreaves.

At least Oliver is safe. I can take some comfort in that. He is finally receiving the treatment he needs, and he is away from this cursed castle. I am upset that I couldn’t see him when he was hospitalized, but I will make time to visit him soon.

***

When Lady Cordelia returns downstairs for dinner, she looks somewhat better. She still appears utterly exhausted, but she is aware of her surroundings now and responds when people talk to her.

Lord Edmund looks tired for the first time since I’ve seen them. The impenetrable wall he puts up is weakening, and the tired old man grappling with debt, Parliament, legal trouble and family health issues shows his face. It’s comforting to know that he’s human too.

Doctor Thornton is the only one among us who is close to good spirits. He is somber and respectful of Lord Edmund’s and Lady Blackwood’s concerns, but he is far more relaxed than he is when he first arrives. Perhaps, like me, he is relieved that Oliver is finally getting the treatment he needs.

For all of this, the tension at the table is thick enough to be cut with a knife. Lady Cordelia’s shoulders are stiff, and hermovements jerky and uncoordinated. Lord Edmund is tired, but behind that exhaustion is an undercurrent of disdain for seemingly everyone.

Theresa and I share a sober look as we serve dinner. I will be dining with the servants tonight.

We are just about to serve the last of the appetizers when a howl whines through the castle. Like all of the other noises the storms and winds bring, this howl sounds like the plaintive cry of a woman.

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