Page 47 of One Last Whisper

Theresa’s argument is the simplest so far and arguably the most practical. Perhaps this is why Lady Cordelia seems to actually consider it. She stops for a moment and tilts her head. Her lips move, but she doesn’t speak aloud.

Lord Edmund makes a grab for her again. Lady Cordelia shrieks, her face screwed up in rage. She grabs his wrist and kicks hard, planting the balls of her foot into his nose. Even over the storm, I hear the snap as the bone breaks. Lord Edmund cries out and stumbles backwards.

“You never loved her!” Cordelia cries. “You only loved the way she did whatever you wanted! All you had to do was ask, and she’d give you anything you desired. She’s smile and moan and tell you she liked it even when her soul wasrotting away!”

Lord Edmund takes a step back, staring at her with shock.

“And you never loved Alivia either. Even before she found the drugs. She was never smart enough, never prudent enough, never enough of a lady. She shamed the family, and when she needed you, all she got from you was disgust andhate!”

Her lips trembled. “And you never loved me. Just like Evelyn, I’m nothing more to you but a beauty who’s willing to let you use that beauty.”

“That’s not true, Cordelia,” Lord Edmund insists. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Even Evelyn. You are all I’veever wanted, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you. Please, come inside.”

Cordelia laughs. She looks down at him and shakes her head. “You never listen to me. You never believe me. I’ve told you for days now that I can hear them, and all you’ve given me is judgment. ‘Stop being silly, Cordelia.’ ‘Stop being daft, Cordelia.’ ‘Cordelia, stop whining about ghosts and be a good little wife for me.’”

“I’m sorry,” Lord Edmund says, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You’re right. I should have listened to you. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. Come inside, and we’ll talk. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you have it.”

Cordelia slumps. Her chest heaves, her breathing growing more rapid as another panic takes hold of her. “I need them toshut up!I need them togo away!”She runs to the end of the ledge, and we all cry out, but she stops, inches from the precipice, and screams into the storm,“Go away! Go away! Go…”

She drops to her knees, the movement shockingly graceful. “Go away.”

She buries her face in her hands and weeps, moaning and sobbing in an anguish that pours from the depths of her soul.

I can understand that anguish. It mirrors the anguish I saw in my dream, the memory of me as I was thirty years ago, weeping in front of Dr. Bradbury in the psychiatric hospital.

I approach the window, stopping short of Lord Edmund so he’ll have room to reach for her again if he gets the chance. “My lady, I see them too. I see the ghosts.”

All eyes in the room turn to me. Lady Cordelia lifts her head slowly and regards me as well.

“My sister’s ghost has haunted me for thirty years,” I tell her. “It’s as I said before. Her memory haunts me, as the memories of Lady Evelyn and Lady Alivia haunt you. But please listen tome. They are only memories. They aren’t real. They’re caused by our own guilt. That guilt is powerful, and it conjures images and words that convince us that we deserve to suffer, even that we deserve to die.

“You donotdeserve to die, Lady Cordelia. You donotdeserve to die for what happened to Lady Evelyn. Or for what happened to Lady Alivia, or to Sarah. That was not your fault. You are innocent, and those ghosts that demand your blood don’t deserve it.

“It’s hard. I know it is. My sister’s ghost still haunts me. To this day, I endure the self-accusation that tells me I am deserving of nothing more than suffering. But I ignore it because I know in my heart that I am a good person, and I deserve to be happy. You may hear the ghosts. They may demand that you join them. Tell them the same thing I tell my own ghosts. Tell them no.”

I extend my hand toward her. “Come inside, Lady Cordelia. Your family—yourlivingfamily—needs you.”

She looks at me for a long moment. The others and I wait with bated breath. Finally, she stands and walks toward me. She places her hand in mine, and I lead her forward.

Cheers call from behind me, but she stops just before entering. I try to pull her, but she remains where she is. Her strength is shocking, and I can’t move her at all.

She smiles down at me, the tenderness in her eyes an odd and disturbing contrast to the strength of her grip. “I saw your sister too,” she tells me. “I saw Annie.”

A chill shoots through me. I’ve never mentioned my sister to her. How does she know her name?

You’re next, Mary.

“That’s not what she said.”

I stiffen. “What?”

“That’s not what she said. And that’s not whatyousaid.”

I see myself sitting in front of Dr. Bradbury again, telling him of my nightmare. He asks me about the dream, and I reply, but the memory is fuzzy now. My vision is equally fuzzy. Reflexively, I try to pull my hand away from her, but she holds it like a vise.

“She wanted me to tell you that,” Lady Cordelia says. “Before I go.”

She releases my hand. Lord Edmund cries out, “No! Cordelia!”

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