Page 12 of Court of Shadows
“If he’s that changed, then it’s my fault,” I said. “I made the choice to revive him.”
“You will never receive gratitude if you feel entitled to it all the time,” she replied with a sniff. “He may eventually come to thank you for what you did, but he’s just as likely to despise you. I told you not to meddle.”
“Aye,” I sighed. “You mentioned that once or twice.”
“Do not begrudge him his choices after you made such a grave one for him,” Mrs. Haylam added, and unexpectedly, she placed a hand on my shoulder. At first I thought it was a gesture of motherly sympathy, but that was foolish—I felt a strange heat wash over me, warmth spreading from where her hand touchedmy frock. As I watched Lee and the shadow, the black shape took greater form, resolving itself into a lovely young woman, who spoke back to him and tugged at her skirt flirtatiously.
“Is that a ghost?” I breathed.
“Of a kind. Another creature of shadow tethered to this house. He can see them as they once were, for he dwells with the shadows now. Don’t look so sad, Louisa; you should be pleased that he has found a friend.” Mrs. Haylam took her hand away and the girl vanished, leaving only her dark silhouette on the floor in front of Lee. “Finish your breakfast and off you go. The Canny girl is already moaning about the accommodations, and I don’t have the patience for it today.”
And I do?
She must have heard my grumbling sigh.
“Louisa.”
“Aye, Mrs. Haylam,” I said, watching Lee slip away into the barn with his new friend. The letter in my apron felt suddenly heavy. Present. A rich father. Maybe I deserved a change; maybe I really could leave and find a new life somewhere far away. For forever.
“And clean up that broken cup. I don’t need anyone slicing open a foot, least of all that good-for-nothing hound....”
I stared at the shattered porcelain and felt her shoulder as she hurried back into the kitchens. The lawn was empty. The workmen had gone. In a sunny, dusty corner somewhere Bartholomew slept, his rumbling snores the only sound in the yard.Spilled tea spidered into the cracks between the cobbles, speeding toward my boots. I took one step away from it, watching tea mingle with mud, and put my hand over the letter in my apron.
Spilled tea and broken cups. There had to be something better on my horizon.
Amelia Canny was a pinched, ugly girl with shockingly black hair and beady brown eyes. On another face, with more finesse and ease, her features might have been pretty, but if a painter had envisioned her, it looked as if they had rushed, slapping on a too-big nose and a retreating glance.
She flitted from bureau to bureau like one of Mr. Morningside’s birds, moving excessively while accomplishing absolutely nothing.
“Lottie twisted her ankle and couldn’t make the journey,” Amelia was informing me, inspecting a massive bonnet studded with red silk flowers. Red, in fact, was her color of choice. Everything from her expensive bags to her light summer frock was done in crimson. “Silly girl said she needed to be off her feet for a month. A month! Can you imagine the luxury of it? And her, just a lady’s maid! I shouldn’t be surprised at all—she’s always been lazy like that.”
Amelia whirled and pinned me with her dark eyes. “Youwon’t be lazy, I suppose?”
It was a question, but only just. I heard the implicit order. “I’m a hard worker, miss.”
“What did you say your name was again?” She arranged and rearranged the bonnet until the sunlight coming in through the greasy window shone off the beads on the brim.
“Louisa.”
“Louisa what?”
“Ditton, miss,” I said, appending thatmisswith a tight smile. I rather envied Lottie, who didn’t sound lazy at all but like a genius for finding a way to escape this simpering ninny.
“You’re Irish,” she pointed out.
Yes, obviously.
“County Waterford, miss.”
Her eyes lit up, which almost made her appealing for a moment. “My family is from Dungarvan, but I shan’t be going back to that shabby little place. Do you know what Mason’s father said to me yesterday? He said, ‘What good could come of a place with dung in the name?’ And you know something, Louisa? He was right. I’ll be a London woman soon. But you must knowDungarvan. Can you believe it? That we should meet all this long ways away, and both of us from such different worlds.”
I thought of the letter in my pocket and winced. If this was what having money did to a person, then perhaps I ought to burn the parchment after all.
“How fortuitous,” I choked out. “Was there something else you needed, miss?”
She needed her pillows fluffed and her bedding switched, toa pattern with something red, naturally. I had already unpacked her traveling trunks and aired out the gown she wanted to wear that evening to supper. My hands had never touched so much buttery-soft silk.
“Only...” Amelia went to the window, peering out into the yard for a moment. Her room faced the north, and from her room, one could see the hidden path that led to the spring. She gestured me over and I obeyed, standing next to her and following her gaze to the wooded trail. The trees there looked menacing, and never quite recovered all the leaves they had lost in the autumn. What little foliage remained looked cruel and black. I hadn’t remembered the wood around the spring being so dense, but perhaps I had never viewed it from this vantage.
