Page 18 of From the Darkness

She had given herself a few seconds to think of an answer to the question. Going back to her southern belle persona, she batted her eyes, looking confused.

“Oh, I swear, I’m so disorganized. It must be the long drive up here. Last night, I lost an earring. I was trying to find it.”

Nola cocked her head, studying her with narrowed eyes. “But you’re wearing earrings, she pointed out.”

“Yes. I put in a different pair,” Bree answered quickly.

Nola waited a beat, letting her squirm, before asking, “Any luck finding the missing one?”

“No. But I might have lost it somewhere else in the hall or even in my room.” Waxing eloquent, she continued, “It was shaped like a little rose. Really, it’s such a pretty piece. And it belonged to my grandmother. I’d be simply desolate if it didn’t turn up. Will you keep an eye out for it?” she asked, babbling on as though she were thrown off her stride. She was, of course. But not because of a piece of jewelry.

Under Nola’s piercing gaze, she shifted from foot to foot.

“Of course,” her hostess finally said. “But right now, you might want to come to breakfast, since you didn’t have any dinner last night.”

She let the observation hang.

Bree cleared her throat. “How do you know that?”

“Mrs. Martindale mentioned it.”

“Oh, right.”

“Let me show you the way to the dining room.”

As Nola started along the hall again, Bree kept pace with her—walking several steps behind, because there wasn’t room to walk abreast. Did Nola know that there were secret passages in the old house? If not, it was probably a good idea to keep her in the dark about the secrets of Ravencrest.

“I’m sure you were wondering why Mr. London didn’t meet you yesterday,” Nola said, glancing briefly over her shoulder, then lowered her voice so that Bree had to strain to hear her. “I’m afraid he’s not well.”

She felt a tremor flicker over her skin. “What’s wrong with him? Is it something serious?” she managed.

Nola lowered her voice another notch, so that Bree had to step closer. “He’s had a nervous breakdown.”

Her rejoinder was instantaneous. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“I guess it was an automatic reaction,” she said lamely. “When Ms. London hired me, she didn’t say anything about her brother’s mental condition,” she added, thinking as she said the words that they weren’t exactly true. Actually, Helenhaddiscussed Troy’s mental condition. She’d been worried about him since the death of his wife. She’d said he was depressed and not acting like himself. So, could he have suddenly gotten worse? Could he somehow have gone over the edge? Wasthatthe real answer to her questions about him?

Her mouth had gone dry, and she swallowed in order to speak. “Where is he?” she asked.

“He exhibited some violent tendencies, so he’s confined to his room.”

“Confined? You mean locked in? Is that necessary?”

“I don’t know. His doctor thought it was better for him to stay in a stress-free environment after he smashed one of the antique clocks downstairs,” Nola answered smoothly, her expression hidden from Bree.

Bree struggled to take in that information. Troy had exhibited violent tendencies? He’d been locked in his room?

“Who is his doctor?”

“Dr. John Smith.”

Bree struggled not to snort out a laugh. John Smith. How convenient. “He’s local?” she asked carefully. “Would it be possible for me to speak to him?”

“I believe he’s from Portland. Not that that’s any of your business. You were hired to teach his daughter, not concern yourself with his mental health.”

“His condition is my concern, if it affects my work here. Or if it affects his daughter.”

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