House of Salt and Sorrows(6)

“He’ll say yes if Morella asks him.” Rosalie smiled slyly. “In bed.”

The triplets fell into fits of laughter. There was a knock at my door, and we all hushed, certain it was Papa coming to chastise us for making so much noise. But it was Verity, standing in the middle of the hallway, drowning in a dark nightgown two sizes too big for her. Her hair was mussed, and glittering tracks of tears ran down her face.

“Verity?”

She said nothing but held out her arms, begging to be picked up. I hoisted her into an embrace, smelling the sweet warmth of childhood. Though she was sweaty with sleep, goose bumps ran down her bare arms, and she snuggled into my neck, seeking comfort.

“What’s the matter, little one?” I rubbed soothing circles over her back, her hair as soft as a baby robin against my cheek.

“Can I stay here tonight? Eulalie is being mean to me.”

The triplets exchanged looks of concern.

“You can, of course, but do you remember what we talked about before the funeral? You know Eulalie isn’t here anymore. She’s with Mama and Elizabeth now, in the Brine.”

I felt her nod. “She keeps pulling my sheets off, though.” Her thin arms encircled my neck, clinging to me tighter than a starfish at high tide.

“Lenore, check on Mercy and Honor, will you?”

She kissed the top of Verity’s head before leaving.

“I bet they were only teasing you. Just a game.”

“It’s not a very nice one.”

“No,” I agreed, and carried her over to the bed. “You can stay tonight. You’re safe here. Go back to sleep.”

Verity whimpered once but closed her eyes and settled into the bedclothes.

“We should go too,” Rosalie whispered, sliding off the bed. “Papa will be checking on us soon.”

“Shall I walk you back to the second floor?” Hanna offered, holding out a pair of candles for Rosalie and Ligeia.

Rosalie shook her head but accepted a hug and the light before stepping out of the room.

“Think about what we said,” Ligeia added, kissing my cheek. “Ending the mourning would be good for us all.” She hugged Hanna good night and scurried down the hall.

The triplets refused to have their own bedrooms, saying they slept better together.

Hanna’s attention shifted to me. “Will you be going to bed too, then, Miss Annaleigh?”

I glanced back at Verity, snuggled deep in my pillows. “Not yet. My mind feels too full for sleep.”

She crossed to a side table, and I drifted back to the chaise, folding and unfolding the throw in my lap. Hanna returned with cups of cinnamon tea and sat down beside me. Something about her movements transported me back six years, to the night of Mama’s funeral.

Hanna had sat exactly where she was now, but I’d been on the floor, my head buried in her lap as she comforted as many of my sisters as she could. Camille was next to me, her eyes swollen and rimmed red. Elizabeth and Eulalie knelt near us, folding the triplets into a sobbing embrace. Ava and Octavia bookended Hanna, each holding a sleeping Grace. The only one missing was Verity, just days old and with her wet nurse.

None of us had wanted to be alone that night.

“It was a lovely funeral,” Hanna said now, twirling her spoon and bringing me back to the present. “So many young men. So many tears. I’m sure Eulalie must be pleased.”

I took a shallow sip, letting the spices linger on my tongue before agreeing.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” she prompted after the silence grew too long.

“I just keep thinking how strange this day felt. How strange everything has been since they…found her.” My mouth tripped over the words, as if the idea behind them was too unwieldy a shape to break into neat sentences. “Something feels wrong about her death, doesn’t it?”

Hanna was watching me. “It always feels wrong when a young person dies, especially someone like Eulalie, so full of beauty and promise.”

“But it’s more than that. I could understand why the others died. Each death was horrible and sad, but there was a reason for it. But Eulalie…what was she even doing out there? Alone and in the dark?”

“You and I both know she wasn’t meant to be alone for long.”

I remembered all those tearstained faces. “But why would she meet someone there? She didn’t even like going to the cliffs in broad daylight. The heights scared her. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Hanna clicked her tongue, setting aside her cup before pulling me into a hug. I caught just a trace of her soap then—milk and honey. Hanna was far too practical for perfumes or bath oils, but the warm, no-nonsense scent comforted me. I breathed it in as my head rested against her shoulder.

It was softer now, more giving, and the skin that peeked over the neckline of her shirtwaist was lined and crepe-thin. She’d been the nursemaid at Highmoor since Ava was born, always there to help patch skinned knees and soothe bruised egos. Her own son, Fisher, was three years older than me and grew up alongside us. Hanna laced us into our first corsets and helped pin up our hair, drying tears as the untrained curls refused to cooperate. There wasn’t any part of our childhood she missed, always nearby for a warm hug or a good-night kiss.

“Did you turn down the bed for her that night?” I asked, sitting up. Hanna would have been one of the last people to see Eulalie. “Did anything seem off?”