House of Salt and Sorrows(69)
Camille’s eyes flashed up to the ceiling as a look of rage passed over her. “She’s hysterical.”
I pushed a lock of hair from Lenore’s face, stroking her cheek. “What do you mean by that? Tell me, Lenore.” She fell back, sobbing, and I suddenly guessed her meaning. I turned on Camille. “Did you go out dancing last night?”
“What? No! We got back from Astrea so late, and there was the storm. No one would want to go out in that.”
Lenore’s jaw quivered. “They did!”
My eyes darted back and forth as they hurled volleys at each other.
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“You told them where the ball would be!”
Camille’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I didn’t.”
“I saw you!”
She turned to me. “Annaleigh, I swear I don’t know what she’s talking about. I went straight to bed last night.”
Papa entered the room, bringing all talk of dancing to an end.
“The house is in total chaos. Servants are running around in tears, wailing about the triplets. What is going on?” He spotted Lenore. “Where are your sisters?”
“Rosalie and Ligeia weren’t in their beds when Lenore woke up,” I interceded, to keep Lenore from relapsing. I pulled him to the side, trying not to recoil—he still smelled like a tavern.
“She thinks they’re missing.”
Papa groaned, wiping a hand over his brow.
“They’ve got to be somewhere. I’ll start the search. Perhaps you could join us…after some coffee? They’ll be found soon.”
I would make sure of it.
* * *
Hours passed as the house was searched without finding a trace of my sisters.
“We’ve looked through the entire hedge maze, my lady,” Jules reported, coming in from the blizzard. Sterland and Fisher were with him. “We found nothing.”
As news of my sisters’ disappearance spread throughout Highmoor, our guests volunteered to help in the search.
“Where could they be?” Morella asked. She’d holed up in the Blue Room, entertaining the youngest girls and staying warm by a roaring fire. She looked pale and drawn. I worried what the day’s stress was doing to her and the babies.
I crossed the maze off the list of places to be searched. “Has anyone tried the crypt?”
“There’s at least a foot of snow outside,” Sterland said. “We would have seen their tracks.”
“The wind could have blown them away. I think we should search it. Tell Papa where I’ve gone.”
Cassius entered the room, snow dusting his shoulders. He’d been out searching the stables. His cheeks were bright red, burned from the cold and the winds. My swell of hope crashed as he shook his head.
“You said you’re going out?”
I nodded. “To the family crypt.”
“I’ll come with you. The storm is picking up. I can’t in good conscience let you go out alone. It wouldn’t be safe.”
All morning long, I’d avoided him, trying not to think about last night, about our kiss. I needed to stay focused. But he was right. If I went out in the storm on my own, there’d be another search party just for me.
“I need my cloak,” I said, scurrying up the stairs. “I’ll just be a moment.”
His footsteps trailed after me. As our eyes met, I felt my jaw tremble.
“How are you?”
His voice was low and warm and threatened to undo the hardened facade I’d tried to maintain all morning. I pushed a tear from my eye, as if it was no more than a speck of dust. “Today is most decidedly not about me.”
He bounded up the stairs between us. “You look exhausted. Let me search the crypt.”
I kept climbing. “You don’t know how to get there.”
“Send a servant with me. We’ll be there in no time.” His fingers brushed the hollow of my back. “Annaleigh…”
I stepped onto the landing. “I need to do this, Cassius. I can’t stay here looking through the same rooms over and over while everyone else is out searching. I feel like I’m going mad. Let me do this.”
“We’ll find them,” he promised, squeezing my hand. “There must be a room we missed, or perhaps they’re playing a prank?”
I shook my head. “They wouldn’t do that. They know what we’d think.”
Cassius stopped at the portrait just across from my bedroom, studying it. It had been painted before the triplets were born, back when there were just six of us.
“Those are my older sisters.”
“Ava, Octavia, Elizabeth, and Eulalie.”
I paused. “How did you know their names?”
He froze, his blue eyes dark. For a moment, he looked worried, caught in something. “On the plaque.”
I squinted at the little bit of brass under the picture frame. I couldn’t make out their names in the dim light. “There were twelve of us originally. But one by one, we’ve been picked off. The villagers think there’s a curse on our house. So you see, Rosalie and Ligeia would never pretend to go missing. It would be too cruel.”
“So much loss,” he said, his eyes focused on the painting.