Page 59 of House of Furies
I fiddled with the scrap of burnt paper and watched Mr. Morningside retire to his offices. The green door guarding his sanctum still called to me, but it was quieter now, manageable. Everything, in fact, seemed quieter and less urgent now that I had the truth of my blood and my birth dangling right there in front of my eyes.
My mind was filled with cupboards and arguments as I idled in the foyer. Mrs. Haylam’s voice cut through the thoughtful din.
“What do you mean another lamb’s wandered onto the property?! Fetch it, Poppy! You’ve arms and legs that work. Fetch it!”
I dodged out the front doors, circling around to the kitchen entrance on the east side of the house, meeting up with Poppy and her pup as they tumbled out into the daylight. Bartholomew loped up to me, going onto his hind legs and pawing at my waist until I scooped him into my arms and scratched his ears.
“Has one of the shepherd’s lambs wandered over?” I asked, matching Poppy’s quick pace.
“How do they manage to get free?” she asked with a jutting lip. “They’re ever so small, and that fluffy mutt of his ought to keep them in line.”
“It’s a lot of sheep for one dog to manage,” I pointed out. Bartholomew seemed content to lounge in my arms, licking at my chin occasionally, his ears popping up in one configuration and then another as he eyed the fields.
“There it is!” Poppy squealed, running full tilt toward the barn.
A tiny blob of white and black paced in front of the doors. The horses inside whinnied and stamped. I bent over and let the dog jump from my arms, and all three of us reached the little lamb as it backed itself against the wood side of the barn and bleated, terrified.
“I have you now,” I said softly, coaxing it into my arms. It didn’t fight, snuggling under my chin. It was warm and smelled of clover, its new woolly body pleasantly scratchy against my skin. “Shall we find your mother?”
“Or we could eat it,” Poppy ventured, following me as I turned toward the neighboring pasture. “Mrs. Haylam makes a lamb roast that’s ever so tender.”
“It isn’t ours to keep, Poppy.”
“You’re too nice. Like Mary. I’d rather eat it.”
I thought on that for a bit as we followed the fence outlining the properties until we met the road, then turned onto that, taking it east toward the shepherd’s cottage. The little goldenpin with the serpent was on my frock, of course, for now I was too nervous to part with it.
“We don’t seem to want for food,” I told her. “I used to steal quite a lot, but only ever to survive. If I had food enough for myself I wouldn’t steal. Don’t you think that’s how it should be?”
Poppy scrunched up her chin, her arms swinging like a soldier’s as she marched beside me. Her pup, of course, trotted just behind. “There is sense to that. Mrs. Haylam says the people who come to Coldthistle get here because they’re greedy and cross. Maybe they take too much. Maybe they steal even when they have plenty.”
I nodded, and we walked for a little while in silence, the lamb bleating occasionally, the insects in the tall grass coming to life, singing their high, reedy song.
Poppy glanced up at me now and then, chewing her cheek.
“Yes?” I asked.
“I don’t mean to bother,” she replied, coy.
“But?”
“But are you going to stay with us? Forever?” Both she and the puppy stared up at me. If Poppy could grow a tail right then and wag it, I’m certain she would have.
“I don’t know that yet,” I said. It seemed more and more like a possibility, even if Lee had to be delivered from the house before he came to harm. “Was it easy for you to decide to stay?”
“I’ve been here for as long as I can remember,” Poppy chirped.“The family that adopted me wanted to send me away. I wasn’t normal and it frightened them. They were mean and I didn’t know why. I know why now, but it was confusing before Mrs. Haylam came and helped me. The nasty brothers beat me and locked me in the attic and poisoned my food. I was sick for a long time and I think I almost died.”
“God, Poppy, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. What did Mrs. Haylam do?” Part of me dreaded the answer, knowing the girl would give it with her unusual directness.
“It’s hard to remember now,” she said, chewing her cheek again. “But I remember she came with a book and she looked funny and hunchy, not nice and clean like she does now. Mr. Morningside was with her, too, but he didn’t talk much. And she said that if I wanted my family to do what I said, she could make that happen, and that it would make the book happy. It made me happy, too. Now they’re all shadows, but they can’t hurt me anymore and they almost always do what Mrs. Haylam wants.”
I blinked down at her. “The Residents are your old family?”
Poppy nodded hard, grinning, her braids swinging. “I like them better now. Were your family like mine, Louisa? Is that why you left them?”
“In a way,” I said slowly, still trying to digest the fact that Poppy’s cruel parents were nothing but creepy shadow beings haunting the attic. “The teachers at my school were nasty, but at least they never poisoned me. Starved me a little sometimes,and there were beatings, but we survived.”
She blinked hard, frowning. “Nobody will beat you or starve you here. Why would you want to leave?”
