Chapter Seventeen
Though Opal knew she was dreaming, she couldn’t wake herself up from sleep. In her dream, she was running through a maze of hallways, searching for the baby that was crying. Instinctively, she knew the baby was hers and that if she didn’t get to him in time, her mother would get to him first.
Each time she came to a room, it would turn up empty, so she had to go back down the hall and look for another room. And each time she got close to the sound of the baby’s cries, those cries would switch to another direction, making it more difficult to weave her way through the maze of twists and turns.
The shadows along the dim walls seemed to reach out in an attempt to grab her. Every time, she managed to dodge them, but this delayed her progress.
When she finally found a room with a crib, she raced over to it and pulled back the blanket covering the crying child. But instead of a baby, she saw a giant rat. She screamed and backed away from it.
From behind her, her mother laughed.
Gasping, she spun around.
Her mother cradled Opal’s baby in her arms. “You’re losing your mind. You thought you were only pretending to be insane, but all along it was true. And now everyone you love is going to find out the truth.”
Opal made an attempt to reach for her baby, but her mother disappeared. Laughter came from behind her, and spinning around, she saw her mother standing in front of her, still holding her baby.
“Poor Opal,” her mother taunted. “You don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”
She disappeared again and reappeared in the hallway right outside the door.
“Am I really here?” her mother asked then disappeared. Upon reappearing by the crib, she added, “Or am I here?”
Then she disappeared, and this time Opal didn’t see her at all.
“Or is it possible that I don’t exist at all?” came her mother’s voice.
As her mother’s laughter got louder, Opal put her hands over her ears and screamed.
“Opal, Opal.” Someone shook her. “Wake up.”
Opal’s eyes flew open, but it took her a moment before she could make out Landon’s silhouette in the dark room.
“You had a nightmare,” Landon said, his voice soft and comforting. “You’re all right now. You’re awake.” He brushed back a few strands of hair from her face.
Despite his assurance, tears filled her eyes. She choked on a sob, and he hurried to bring her into his arms.
“Don’t think about the nightmare,” he whispered, stroking her hair and her back. “Try to put it from your mind.”
If only the nightmare was the most of her worries. She wished it could be so simple. The nightmare wasn’t real. She could easily separate it from the reality around her. But she was beginning to see things that weren’t there. She was beginning to hear things that weren’t there. She couldn’t trust her own eyes and ears to tell her what was real.
And she didn’t dare tell anyone. Not Landon. Not Warren. Not Iris. Not Ava. If she said it aloud, what would they do to her? Would they restrict her to the country? Would they have someone watch over her all the time for her own safety? Would they forbid her to take care of her baby?
Worse than that, would things get worse? Would she begin to imagine things more and more? Was it just a matter of time before her situation got so bad that she could no longer hide it?
“Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?” Landon asked.
She shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to say anything right now. Everything going on around her was too scary.
“All right,” he replied.
He tightened his hold on her and continued holding her while she kept crying.
***
Opal sat in front of the vanity the next morning, looking as exhausted as she felt. The circles under her eyes gave witness to the fact that she’d had a restless night’s sleep after she woke up from her nightmare.
Upon her request, Landon had stayed with her until Miss Kesner arrived to help her get ready for the day. Now, as Miss Kesner ran the brush through her hair in a soothing motion, Opal realized that she was so tired that she just might fall asleep.
Then she heard a knock come from the door connecting her bedchamber with Landon’s. She stiffened. The knock came again. She glanced in the mirror so she could see Miss Kesner’s reflection.
Miss Kesner continued brushing her hair. Her posture gave Opal no indication that she’d heard the knock. She hadn’t even paused while running the brush over her tresses.
Opal looked at the door again. Did she imagine it? Were the things she used to pretend to imagine coming back to haunt her?
Another knock came at the door. This time it was louder. Last time, answering the door hadn’t done Opal any good. Whoever had been on the other side hadn’t answered, and by the time she went to answer it, the person was gone…if the person had even been there at all.
She shivered.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Miss Kesner asked as she set the brush on the vanity.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Opal lied. “Will you see who is at the door?”
“Which door, my lady?”
Opal gestured to Landon’s bedchamber door just as another knock came from it. “Don’t you hear it? Someone’s there.”
Miss Kesner frowned. “I don’t hear anything, but I’ll open it since you asked me to.”
Opal frowned. Miss Kesner hadn’t heard the knocking. At all?
Another knock came from the door.
“You don’t hear that?” Opal asked.
“I’m sorry, my lady, but I don’t hear anything.” Then, as if to reassure her that no one was knocking, Miss Kesner went to it and opened it.
“I don’t see anyone, my lady,” Miss Kesner said, peering in the room.
After a moment, Opal got up and went over to Miss Kesner. Like the other day, no one was there.
“Maybe you heard something else,” Miss Kesner said. “Perhaps someone was walking in the hall or there was a noise from the streets that made you think someone was knocking on this door.”
No. That wasn’t possible. Opal knew what she’d heard. But how could she prove it? Even she could see that no one was in Landon’s bedchamber. But Miss Kesner would probably not believe her.
“Maybe,” Opal finally said then returned to the vanity and settled back into the chair.
Miss Kesner closed the door and went over to her. “How would you like me to style your hair?”
There was another knock at the door.
Opal swallowed the lump in her throat. “Um…pin it back like you did yesterday.”
Miss Kesner nodded and picked up some pins from the small container by the mirror.
The door opened a crack.
Opal turned her head toward the door. That hadn’t happened before. She tried to make out who was on the other side of the door, but from where she was sitting, she couldn’t see anyone.
Opal glanced at Miss Kesner’s reflection. Again, Miss Kesner gave her no indication that anything was happening at the door.
The door opened further, and from where Opal was, she still didn’t see anyone.
After a long moment, Opal’s gaze went back to Miss Kesner’s reflection.
Miss Kesner was pinning her hair back as if the door hadn’t opened at all.
Opal closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then opened her eyes again. The door was still open. And no one was in the doorway. She released a shaky breath.
If she asked Miss Kesner if the door was open, she was sure the lady would say no. Just as Landon had said he hadn’t moved the inkwells. Just as the maid said she hasn’t moved the inkwells. Just as Landon said he hadn’t moved around his books and then organized them back.
No one, it seemed, was aware of what was happening but her. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
“All done, my lady,” Miss Kesner said, stepping away from her. “Is there anything else you need?”
Opal glanced at the open doorway. Was she really imagining it? Was it possible the door was shut? She rubbed her temples, willing herself to see and hear things that were actually there. “No, I don’t need anything else at the moment.”
“Very good, my lady,” Miss Kesner said. “I’ll return when you require something else.”
This time Opal didn’t follow Miss Kesner out in case Miss Kesner thought something was wrong with her. It was bad enough Opal had told her she heard knocking at the door when no one had been on the other side.
She clasped her hands together and stared at the door separating her and Landon’s bedchambers. Should she go in and investigate? Would anyone even be there? Miss Kesner had checked the room and found no one there. Opal had also checked it, just to make sure Miss Kesner had been telling her the truth.
In the end, Opal decided to go downstairs without checking Landon’s bedchamber. She went to the drawing room and sat in one of the chairs.
Putting her face in her hands, she tried to rationalize away the knocking on the door, the way it opened on its own, the books that were organized according to author name and then according to title, the comb that had been on top of her vanity and then in the drawer, the strange sound in the hallway, and the moving inkwells. Surely, there had to be a reasonable explanation for everything. Things didn’t just move themselves around. People had to move them.
“My lady, do you need something?”
Opal looked up from her hands and saw the maid entering the room, a concerned expression on her face. “No, no I’m fine,” Opal replied. “Where is my husband?”
“He went to visit his brother.” The maid took out a neatly folded parchment from her pocket and handed it to her. “He asked me to give you this.”
She unfolded it and read the message. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Guy said his daughter is sick and needs a doctor right away. I’ll return as soon as I can.
“Thank you,” Opal replied as she folded it.
“Are you ready to eat?”
“No, not right now. Maybe in an hour.”
“If there’s anything you need, let me know.”
Opal nodded as the maid left the room. It was still early in the day. Warren and Iris wouldn’t even be ready to eat, and Ava would probably still be asleep. There was no one she could visit at the moment.
She let out a long sigh and scanned the room. She needed to do something—anything—to occupy her time. She searched the room for a book but didn’t find any. After a few restless moments, she decided to take her chances in the den.
This time as she walked down the hallway, she didn’t hear anything unusual. She just heard the soft steps her slippers made as she walked along the hardwood floor. When she reached the open doorway of the den, she peeked into the room. The horse inkwell was on the desk. She slowly entered the room and took a good look at the books lining the shelves. They were sorted according to title.
Relieved, she went to the books and studied the titles for something she might enjoy reading. After picking up a couple of books and skimming them, she decided on one to read. She turned to leave the room when she noticed the paintings on the wall. They weren’t the ones Landon had bought.
The painting with the horses grazing in the field had been replaced by a painting of a graveyard on a foggy day. The painting of the autumn trees had been replaced by a painting of a forlorn ghost in a hallway, seeming to be searching for something it couldn’t find, and on that particular painting, there was a piece of folded parchment pinned to it. Something was written on parchment, but she was too far to tell what it was.
Clutching the book to her chest, she debated whether or not to summon the maid. What good had it done to ask Miss Kesner if there was a knock at the door? She hadn’t heard it. She hadn’t even seen the door open. No one had seen the inkwells when they were misplaced or the books when they’d been switched around.
Ignore it. It’s not real. She wasn’t seeing those particular paintings. She was really seeing the paintings of the horses and the autumn trees. She just had to remind herself of that.
Releasing her breath, she headed toward the door. On her way there, she was finally able to make out what was on the neatly folded parchment attached to the painting of the ghost. It was a single word. Opal.
Her steps slowed to a stop. There was something familiar about the handwriting. She debated whether or not to go over to it. It wasn’t real. There wasn’t any reason to pick it up and take a closer look at it.
She took a step away from the painting when she heard someone whisper, “Opal.”
She jerked and spun around, scanning the room. No one was in the room. She was by herself.
“Opal.”
The whisper came from the other side of the room, but she still didn’t see anyone.
She rubbed her forehead. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to believe. Was she really hearing and seeing these things, or was she imagining them?
“Read it,” the voice whispered.
Whether the voice came from her mind or was real, her curiosity got the best of her. She went to the painting and removed the pin from the parchment. Studying the script, she couldn’t help but think of how familiar it was. Someone she knew had written it. But who? Or, at least, who was she imagining it came from?
After a moment, she unfolded the parchment.
Why did you leave me behind at the estate? I’m lonely without you.
Then she recalled whose handwriting it belonged to. Byron. This was Byron’s handwriting.
Her gaze went back to the paintings. The graveyard and the ghost… She reread the missive. The message was short, but it was clear the paintings were there to emphasize it.
She swallowed. Maybe if she closed her eyes and took some deep breaths, the paintings and missive would disappear. But when she opened her eyes, the things were still there. She reached out and touched the paintings. They felt real. The parchment she was holding felt real. Never once in all the time she had acted as if she had lost her mind while her mother and Byron were alive did she imagine things this vivid.
“What did you say, my lady?”
She spun toward the doorway where the maid stood, looking at her expectantly. “I didn’t say anything,” Opal replied.
“Far be it from me to argue with you, but you did,” the maid said. “You pulled the cord along the wall to summon me, and when I arrived, you were talking to someone.” She scanned the room as if she expected another person to be there. “You called him by the name Byron.”
Opal’s gaze went to the parchment in her hand. “No, I didn’t say anything. I was only reading this.”
“Reading what, my lady? The book?”
“No, this.” She held up the parchment.
The maid’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t see anything but the book, my lady.”
Opal glanced down at the book she was holding to her chest. With a look at the paintings, she asked the question she dreaded to ask but felt like she had to. “What are those paintings of?”
“There’s three horses and a dog in one and autumn trees in the other.” The maid’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t that what you see?”
Just so she wouldn’t appear to be losing her wits, she said, “Yes, of course.” She cleared her throat and smiled. “I was wondering what you think of them.”
“They are nice paintings, my lady.”
“I thought so, too, when my husband picked them out.” Opal slipped the parchment into the book.
“Maybe I should bring you some tea, my lady,” the maid said, her voice soothing as she walked over to her. “I think it will help calm you.”
Maybe that was a good idea. She nodded and let the maid lead her out of the room. The maid put her arm around her shoulders and walked her down the hall.
“You’ll feel better after you have some tea,” the maid said.
No, no she wouldn’t. Opal already knew things wouldn’t stop. They wouldn’t get better. They would only continue. That, or they would get worse. She blinked back her tears.
The maid took her to the drawing room and urged her to sit on the settee. “I’ll be right back with the tea.”
As soon as the maid left, Opal let the tears fall.