House of Salt and Sorrows(33)

“Annaleigh?” He turned to me, imploring. “You know something, you must!”

I dared to meet his pained eyes, but Camille stepped in front of me, blocking my view.

“Roland!” she shouted.

Edgar’s eyes widened. “Not him—no! Not him!”

Fisher burst into the room, obviously having heard the commotion. “Camille? Are you all right?”

“Oh, Fisher, thank Pontus!” she replied, racing over to him. “Please escort Mr. Morris from Highmoor. I’m afraid he’s upset us both terribly.”

Edgar grabbed my hands, his fingers slick and nervous. I went rigid at such an unexpected invasion.

Roland appeared, immediately springing to action. “Come with us, sir.” He grabbed at Edgar’s waist.

“Easy does it,” Fisher said, attempting to pull Edgar away.

“Get your hands off of me!” Edgar snapped. “Annaleigh!”

I shook my head and pressed myself deeper into the chair to keep from being struck by Edgar’s flailing limbs. His cries turned to curses as he was manhandled from the room. After a moment of pandemonium in the hall, the front door slammed shut.

Fisher returned, his shirt pulled free, the sleeve torn. “What on earth happened in here? Who was that?”

“Eulalie’s fiancé, if you believe him. Which I don’t,” Camille said, retrieving her fallen cup.

Fisher took the chair Edgar had leapt from and accepted Camille’s offer of tea. “Should we alert the authorities? Did he harm either of you?”

“I doubt that’s necessary,” she replied. “He’ll probably do something extremely foolish and go to them himself.”

She glanced at me. “Are you all right, Annaleigh? You’ve gone all peaky.”

I felt rooted to the armchair, unable to move. I’d never seen someone in such a fit of grief and rage. “I’ll be fine, I just…Who do you think the shadow was?”

She snorted. “There was no shadow. Eulalie wasn’t pushed off the cliffs.” She sighed, toying with the teacup. “I can’t believe the nerve of that man. Lying to our faces.”

Fisher frowned, still putting threads together. “He lied? About a shadow?”

“About eloping with Eulalie. She would never have run away, especially not with him. She had so many other prospects, much better ones.”

Fisher took a loud slurp of the tea while picking up two cookies from the tray. Camille’s eyes tracked his movements. Without a word, she picked up a dessert plate and offered it to him.

His eyes crinkled into a smile. “I suppose my Hesperus manners aren’t fit for dining in the presence of such refined ladies now, eh?”

“I said nothing.”

He jostled her with a brotherly familiarity. “You didn’t need to, Camille. You never need to.”

My mind felt like an overturned container of honey. I wanted to join in their ribbing, but my thoughts were stuck on Edgar’s theory. I couldn’t drop it. “Did she ever mention seeing something she wasn’t supposed to? Overhearing something?”

Camille frowned, the light going out of her eyes. “No. And you know she confided in us about everything. That watchmaker realized he lost the best match of his life and is trying to worm his way into ours.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say. It’s clear he loved her.”

She laughed, a sharp, dry bark. “No one will ever just love us. That ball made it abundantly clear. If someone shows an interest, it’s for our money. For our position. For what they can get out of us.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“And I can’t believe you don’t. Edgar was just greedy enough to look past the curse.”

Fisher froze midbite, glancing between us, unsure of what to do. I waved him away, excusing him from the room. He shouldn’t have to witness the brewing fight. With a grateful smile, he put down his plate and ducked out.

“What?” she demanded once it was just us. “You think I’m wrong?”

I crossed to the piano and collected my music. “I certainly hope you are.”

Behind me, I heard her sniff. When I turned, her face had crumpled, and she was pushing back hot, angry tears.

“At least she had someone, I suppose. Even if he is such a sad little man, he’s still a man.”

After a beat, I set the music back down and joined her, the fight seeping from me.

“Oh, Camille. You’re going to find someone. You will, I know it.”

“How? It’s completely hopeless. I’m going to die an old maid, unloved, untouched. I’ve never even been kissed.” She dissolved into sobs.

I stroked her hair and listened to her complaints. In my heart, I knew she was right. Would there ever be a man brave enough to risk the whispers? I wished I could say the magic words to set everything right again, but I didn’t know where to start.

I stilled.

Magic words.

Magic words for a magic door. The door Fisher mentioned. Even if it was a silly tale, it would take Camille’s mind off her troubles. At least for an afternoon.

“Have you ever heard anything about Pontus’s door?”

Nose red and face splotchy, she wiped the corners of her eyes. “What are you talking about?”