Page 19 of From the Darkness

Nola answered swiftly and succinctly. “If you’re worried about the working conditions at Ravencrest, you can always leave.”

“Um . . . yes . . .” Bree dragged in a breath and let it out. “Thanks for your insights,” she murmured, carefully considering the conversation. Either Nola was flat-out lying to her about Troy being locked in his room, or she was unaware that he was roaming the estate at night. If the man Bree had talked towasTroy.

Then there was the question of Nola’s motives. Was she really concerned about Troy’s health? Or was she simply covering up his disappearance?

They had reached the stairs. Bree followed the other woman down, then through the entrance hall and into the back of the house.

The gold and blue dining room was on the cliff side of the house, with huge windows that provided a spectacular view of the restless ocean. Bree stood transfixed, struck once more by the wild, isolated setting and the waves pounding against the rocks.

Nola watched her for a moment. “You never get used to it,” she said.

“Does it frighten you?” Bree asked.

“Why should it?”

“I guess because it’s a reminder of the power of nature.”

“I don’t waste my time being frightened of nature,” the woman snapped, then turned her back on the window and marched toward a sideboard covered with a white cloth.

Bree saw that various dishes had been set out. At one end was cold cereal, milk, and cartons of fruit yogurt. At the other end were several heated chafing dishes with scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash brown potatoes.

Bree hadn’t eaten since the afternoon before, but just looking at the heavy, hot food made her stomach roil. Instead, she opted for cereal, milk, and peach yogurt.

Her hostess had already made a similar selection, and they carried their choices to the long dining room table. Following the other woman’s lead, Bree also poured herself a cup of tea from the cart against the wall.

As she and Nola were seating themselves, a door at the far end of the room opened, and a short, plump woman bustled in.

She was wearing a crisp white apron over a flowered dress. And her salt and pepper hair was pulled back in a bun.

“Well,” she said. “I see you’ve gotten settled all right. I’m Mrs. Martindale. We spoke over the intercom last night. I’ve baked some nice lemon and poppy seed muffins for breakfast this morning.” Thrusting a small basket forward, she displayed some yellow muffins speckled with dark poppy seeds.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” Bree took one and transferred it to her plate, before the woman set the basket down.

During the short exchange, the other woman at the table sat mechanically spooning up milk and cereal as though she couldn’t wait for the housekeeper to leave.

Bree’s suspicion was confirmed several moments after the door had closed again.

“That woman takes liberties,” Nola muttered.

“Oh.”

“She’s supposed to be a servant. But she acts like she’s the grand dame of this place.”

“Um,” Bree answered. She had very little experience with servants, but she’d thought that Mrs. Martindale was simply being friendly—in a rather old-fashioned sort of way.

Nola leaned back in her chair. Cradling her teacup in her hands, she said, “I hope you slept all right last night.”

So—was her hostess finally relaxing—and making an attempt at polite conversation, Bree wondered. Or was she fishing for evidence that the new teacher was going to crack under the strain of living at Ravencrest.

“Fine,” she answered, vividly aware that her bland statement was a lie.

Nola continued to study her, letting the moment stretch until Bree wanted to squirm in her seat. But she managed to keep still. Deliberately, she picked up her own cup and took a sip, looking down into the honey-colored liquid.

“So, you weren’t . . . bothered by the resident ghost?” Nola pressed, watching Bree carefully.

She knew the words had been chosen for their dramatic content. Still, her head jerked up.

In danger of spilling the tea, she set down her cup abruptly, so that it clattered into the saucer, the sound ringing through the dining room. “What ghost?” she asked, her voice coming out high and thin.

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