The Surface Breaks(48)

She squats on the floor until she’s eye level with the painting. “The women always get blamed. Have you noticed that? The wives are nags. The mistress is a bitch for betraying the sisterhood. And the men just fall through the cracks in between. We expect so little from our boys, don’t we, Grace?”

The room seems to be shrinking, as if there is less oxygen for us to share. The smell, the sound of the water, all of these paintings with my mother’s face… I need to leave, and soon.

“We were childhood friends, Alex and I,” Eleanor says, standing again. “And he was captivating, even then. Everyone loved him. They tolerated me well enough, although clever girls are never much appreciated.” I don’t know why she is telling me all of this. People feel so free to tell me their stories, now that they can be sure I won’t repeat them. I shall grow fat on all of these secrets. Eleanor cracks her knuckles, just like Oliver, but she does it slowly, each snap deliberate, echoing in this room. “His family were very grand, but had no money left – gambling debts. Well. I needed Alex, and he needed money – and god knows if my family had anything, it was money. And I was in love with him.” She turns to me, her eyes bright. “It didn’t matter what my father said – that Alex was lazy, that all he cared about was having fun. Well, I wanted to have fun, for once. Fun, I could appreciate. I’ve never cared for beauty. Beauty fades, there’s no loyalty in it. My mother told me it was better to cultivate my wit, my intelligence. If I’d had a daughter, I would have told her the same. I would have made her strong. A woman needs to be strong to survive.”

I imagine what it would have been like having Eleanor as my mother. I imagine what it would have been like to have any mother at all.

“Alex and I were happy until that accident. Until he came back from the sea, changed. I loved him…” She’s whispering now, pacing back and forth. “I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. I loved him. I loved you, Alex. Why did you want to leave me? You can’t leave, I won’t let you go. What will people say?”

I’m dizzy as my eyes follow her, sweat breaking out under my armpits. A chill climbs up my spine, bone by bone. Is this what unrequited love looks like? Is this what worshipping a ghost does to you? Is this what my future holds if I can make Oliver choose me? Lying awake at night in case he calls out Viola’s name in his sleep?

I gingerly back away from her, away from this room and all the haunted spirits it contains.

“Grace,” Eleanor says, her head snapping up. I freeze as she points to the painting in front of her. “That woman. Who is she?”

I forget how to breathe. “Grace. Gracie,” she says in a peculiar voice. “Look at her. Look at her, I said. Why does she look so much like you, Grace?” She steps closer to me, eyes burning as if she has a fever. “Who are you?” I shake my head. I don’t know. I don’t think I have ever known. Please leave me alone. Leave me alone. “Who are you?” Eleanor screams, the sound piercing my eardrums. “Who are you?”

And I run from the room, my feet breaking beneath me. I run away from this mad woman as fast as I can.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Up you get.” Daisy shakes me awake. “Come on, Grace, you’ll miss breakfast.”

I’m barely listening to her (“Exciting… It’s been… dancing… do you think?”) as she bathes my feet. I sit on the bed while Daisy rifles through my wardrobe, trying to find the perfect outfit for the day ahead. (“Don’t you think…” Daisy keeps babbling, “it would be really great if… I can’t wait…”)

Did I imagine last night? My dreams have been so vivid recently. Does that room even exist? How can I be sure?

If last night happened, then what does it mean? Was my mother in love with Oliver’s father? Did she abandon the kingdom to create a new life with him, one without her children? Is that why she called me Gaia, a name meaning “of the earth”? Muireann of the Green Sea cursed me with wanderlust and a thirst for dry air that could not be quenched. And then – what happened? What happened to make my mother vanish, and drove Alex Carlisle mad searching for her? Where is my mother?

“Grace.” A gentle tug at my hair as Daisy runs a brush through it. “I don’t think you’ve listened to a single word I’ve said this morning.” I stare at her blankly and she sighs. “Never mind,” she says. “You’ll hear the news soon enough.”

I steal along the corridor to look at that room again, but the door is locked. There is no sound of waves creeping under the floorboards, no musty smell.

“What are you doing down here?” Daisy asks. I hadn’t realized she had followed me. “That door hasn’t been opened in years. And, my goodness, they need to re-carpet those floorboards, it’s unslightly.” She glances at her watch. “Now get a move on, you’re going to be late.”

Downstairs, I find the house bustling with activity, busy in a way that I have never seen it before. I take a deep breath, praying that none of them will look my way. Why must there always be so many people here? Dozens of servants weave around as I walk slowly, oh, so slowly, feeling blood between my toes.

“Are you all right, miss?” one of the female servants stops to ask me in concern. I must be showing my misery. How unbecoming of me.