Page 116 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“I see her. She’s there. She’sdying. We can still save her!”
Margot began to cry, big silent tears leaking out. She shook her head, climbing into his lap. “She’s not there, Merrick. She’s not. She died a long time ago.”
“No. Please…Ma!”
She couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t bear it. No child deserved to see what he’d seen. No boy deserved to grow up as he had. No man should be, decades later, so haunted. She gripped his cheeks in her hands, pressing her forehead to his and staring deep into his wild eyes. She wanted to stop his hurt.
“Merrick, I’m here. It’s Margot. I’m right here with you. What you’re seeing isn’t real.”
Not real, not real.
He stared back, his gaze that of a hunted animal. “Your hair is red. Like hers.”
“It is.” She’d tear it from her head strand by strand if she needed to, if only to make that terrible look on his face disappear.
“It hurts my eyes.”
It hurts your eyes…or it hurts your heart?
She swepther hand down his forehead, trailing gently over his lashes. “Close your eyes then. Close your eyes and go to sleep, Merrick.”
“Will I get to see my mother?”
“Yes, after you rest.” It was the most terrible and beautiful lie she’d ever told.
“She’s sitting just over there, you know.” He opened his eyes and pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Right there. She’ll still be there when I wake?”
Margot startled…because shesaw. In the corner wingback, Babette. Leaning forward with a hungry glint in her eye.
She swallowed hard. Hated the words even as she forced them out. “She’s always with you, Merrick.”
Whether I like it or not.
39
December 10, 1875
Dear Diary,
All that I am is blood and bone bound together with longing. Perhaps that’s the problem—perhaps life cannot grow inside a person so ravenous.
I devour my dreams. I must not deserve them.
—Excerpt, the diary of Eleanor Dravenhearst
Margotwasrunningthroughthe manor on bare feet.
“Catch me, Margot! Catch me!”
His giggle just ahead, just beyond the next corner…she was so close.
She burst around it, reaching with both arms. For the dozenth time, they swung through empty air.
“Catch me, Margot!”
She spun, her panting breaths fogging before her. The hallway was frigid. Her mouth was dry, growing frost. Tiny, sharp crystals sproutedon her tongue.
She took off through the labyrinthine corridors of the house, losing herself. She knew the way…but also not. Hallways lengthened. Doors moved. Shadows shifted, staircases rolled underfoot. She stumbled more than once, bruising her knees, but she was homing in.
