A Dreadful Splendor (85)

Dearest. You watch me with your sad eyes

. . . we share the Linwood secret

. . . it is my salvation

I envisioned Audra in her room, sitting on the overstuffed chair, writing under the portrait of her mother. A portrait so large it belonged in the gallery—not a bedroom.

. . . a fun way to snoop on the staff

The answer came to me so perfectly, I felt stupid for not seeing it from the beginning. Every house has its secrets. Somerset Park was no different.

I bolted upright in bed, gasping. The rain had stopped, and the room was considerably darker. I did not remember Dr. Barnaby leaving.

I lit a candle and slipped on my dressing gown, tying it around my waist. I grabbed the key to Audra’s room and raced out the door.

“Oh!” I dropped the candle, almost setting myself on fire. It sputtered and went out as it hit the floor. Mr. Pemberton was sitting in a chair beside the door frame. He jumped to stand when I nearly fell into his lap. “What are you doing?” I asked, untangling myself from his arms.

“I’ve been here since Barnaby left,” he said, pulling at the bottom of his vest. His jacket hung over the back of the chair. There were a set of dirty dishes and an empty wineglass on the floor. “I should be asking your intentions, Miss Timmons. You’re supposed to be resting.” His tone was stern, but it didn’t match his relieved expression.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing my eyes not to skim past him toward the hall that led to Audra’s room.

“Fine? Do you not have any memory of what happened?” His eyes were so intense—the deepest blue of the ocean.

“Someone carried me back,” I recalled. “Was it you?”

He lowered his voice. “We should speak,” he said. “In private.”

I stepped back into my room and waited for him to follow. He hesitated before crossing the threshold. “Close the door,” I told him, lighting the candles on the mantel.

He stood across from me, arms at his sides. “How are you really feeling?” he asked.

“Improved,” I said.

“Good. I want you to leave first thing in the morning.”

Betrayal shot through me. I turned sharply to look at him, trying to decipher his expression. Was he upset with me because of Sadie? Had he lost all confidence in my abilities? Had he given up on the séance? “What? Why?”

“I will pay you generously,” he said. “Anywhere you want to go. You’ll have enough money to bribe every police officer from here to France.” He seemed hurried and desperate, almost terrified. “Paris, correct? You said you have family there.”

“I have no one.” I continued to stare at him, searching for some hint as to why he would order me away, after all we had been through. My heart was a tangle of hurt and confusion. “Why now? I don’t understand.”

“You cannot be serious,” he said, incredulous. “You could have ridden the horse off the cliff today! No, you must go. If you stay any longer, this place will claim you as well.”

“I haven’t gone mad.”

“That’s what Audra said too.” He stepped closer and took my hands in his own. “Please, Miss Timmons,” he said.

Hadn’t this been all I wanted, not so long ago? A chance to run away and start again. But now, the thought of leaving tore painfully at my soul.

“If you could have seen your face today,” he continued. “You weren’t screaming, or trying to get control of the horse. You were staring straight ahead, intent on racing toward something invisible. You were in a trance. And when I finally got you off the horse, all you kept saying was, ‘It was her,’ over and over until you fainted in my arms. I had never felt so helpless.”

The chill washed over me as the memory resurfaced. Audra’s image came through the mist as if she had been standing there, waiting for me. I could no longer deny what I believed to be true. But admitting it would mean two things: everything Maman told me was wrong, and now she was punishing me from beyond the grave.

All the unexplained occurrences that had been happening to me were not tricks played by someone living in the manor. The handwriting in the ghost book, the upside-down picture, the voice in the night, and finally the undeniable evidence in front of my own eyes today were the work of one person. Even her own horse sensed her.

“I saw Audra’s ghost,” I told him.

He let go of my hands and gave me one of his scrutinizing looks. “How can you say that? I thought we were beyond such games.”

“Trust me,” I said. Then I told him everything, starting with the ghost book and ending with the voice leading me to the dungeon. “I found the diary this morning, and I went to the stables with the intention of telling you right away.”

He said nothing, only walked to the wardrobe and opened the door. He crouched down and ran his finger along the message scratched into the wood. I let out a sigh, somewhat worried it wouldn’t have been there.

“And there’s a secret dungeon as well?” He laughed, but it sounded wounded. “Where’s the diary, then? I must see it with my own eyes.”

Placing the candle on the vanity, I opened the top drawer, conscious of the fact that he had moved closer to stand behind me. This diary would reveal Dr. Barnaby’s affair, but I could not bear the weight of one more secret. “You may find a few entries shocking,” I began. “But remember, her heart ruled her, and whatever you might read . . .” I stopped and stared at the drawer. My stomach dropped; this was what it must have felt like to plummet from a cliff’s edge.