Page 76 of The Dravenhearst Brides
She wore an ivory bridal ballgown, full and heavily skirted. Over her face hung a veil so long and thick it completely obscured her features and trailed to the floor, dragging behind her as she walked. Each step unhurried. Hauntingly staggered. Under her breath, the woman hummed. The echo resonated in the empty foyer, the tune familiar. An old children’s lullaby.
Margot’s veins ran with ice. When she blinked, there was frost on her eyelashes. She gripped the railing and descended the stairs, possessed by the sight of the woman in white. When she was halfway down, the woman disappeared through an archway.
Margot followed. Down the final stairs, across the foyer, into the hallway. The candles were snuffed out, fresh smoke in the air. It was pitch dark in the corridor, but a door was cracked open on her left. A door to a sitting room overlooking the front of the house, the magnolia trees.
Humming came from within, drawing Margot forward. She pushed open the door.
A small table was set. White cloth. China teacups.
And sitting there, rightthere, mere footsteps away, was a bride, illuminated by moonlight. A Dravenhearst bride, veil still covering her face.
“When the wind blows,”the woman whisper-sang, fingers fluttering above the tea set,“the cradle will rock.”
Margot suspected who she was, but she had to know. An icy fist of fear gripped her heart. Ruth was in her mind. Babette was in her mind. She was preternaturally afraid. Could barely get the words out. “Who…?”
The woman looked up.
“Who am I?” The voice was almost childlike, musical. Her head tilted, veil moving with it. “Who areyou?” She lowered her voice, continuing to sing.“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. And down will come baby…”
“Margot,” she whispered. “Margot Dravenhearst.”
A sharp intake of breath, excited. The woman eagerly patted the empty seat beside her. “MargotDravenhearst? Yes, of course you are. I knew it. I simply knew it. Come, sit with me. We have so much to talk about. Are you in love, Margot Dravenhearst?”
“Am I…what?”
“You look like you’re in love.” The words were fervent and wistful. “Tell me everything. You’re going to have a baby, aren’t you?”
Margot didn’t answer. Her hand drifted to her stomach, eerily disengaged from the rest of her body. Like a puppeteer pulled her strings. Theplace between her legs was still sore and damp where Merrick had been mere hours ago.
“I know that look.” The bride nodded. “You’re one of us now. Just like you always wanted.”
How did she…?
“Sit down. Please.” She patted the seat again. “Have tea with me.”
“Who are you?” Margot croaked.
“I’m Eleanor.” The bride giggled, as though Margot was very silly indeed. The sound was high-pitched and girlish and wrong. So very, very wrong. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’re going to be the best of friends.”
Margot awoke with a scream.
25
May 4, 1901
My sweet Babs,
I’ve dreamt of you for months on end. Today, the dream becomes reality.
I wonder, do you remember the night we first met? You spoke of horses with such passion, and I took the liberty of cheek. “Why ride a horse when you can ride a bourbon maker?” Oh, the way you laughed—that’s the moment I knew you were mine.
—Excerpt, a letter from Richard Dravenhearst to his wife on their wedding day
Morningsicknesssetinquickly, and that was how Margot knew for certain. The words of a ghost could not be taken seriously, but her own body…quite another matter.
Quite an astounding matter, really.
The first time it happened, Margot was by the pasture at sunrise, watching Merrick ride. Her husband had cleverly extractedthe promise shortly after bedding her—quite spectacularly—the night before. There had been a lot of that over the last two weeks, in every spare moment, in seemingly every room, on every free surface of the manor. A few more times in the rickhouses too.
