Haunting Violet
Page 81

I fumbled for the glass of water on the nightstand and forced myself to drain it. “Has he been back?”
Caroline shook his head. “He’s mad.”
I nodded, then wished I hadn’t when both my head and stomach protested. “We need help.” I managed to push myself to my feet even though I felt about as steady as a newborn colt. I wobbled. “But first I need a chamber pot.” Caroline pointed to the painted silk screen in the corner and I shuffled toward it.
“I can’t leave Tabitha,” Caroline said again when I reemerged, bladder empty and feeling marginally less like I was made entirely of spider webs. “And she’s even worse off than you.”
“Then I’ll have to go,” I said. “Help me block the door. This time, I mean to get out.”
We pushed the heavy armoire in front of the door, then added the desk and settee for good measure. I felt as if I’d moved the whole of Stonehenge by the time we were done. I felt dreadful. But Wentworth wouldn’t get in again to use either Tabitha or Caroline against me. I sincerely hoped Mr. Travis wasn’t dead. Sweat dampened my chemise. I had to force myself to keep moving, and it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I offered up a silent apology to Mrs. Gordon and her sister, wondering if they’d felt this ill after each of our visits. Then I drained a cup of cold tea left on the cart for fortification.
Caroline bit her lip, watching me swing out onto the ledge again. I gripped the stone tightly enough to have my palms cramping.
“Violet, you don’t look well enough. Perhaps you should wait.”
“Can’t.” I grunted, cheek mashed to the wall as I tried to stand up without falling backward. The stone was cold. My left foot slipped. I swallowed a scream, clutching at the wall.
Caroline gasped. “Be careful.”
I didn’t reply, concentrating fully on shuffling along the last few feet to the balcony balustrade. Whitestone Manor was dark below me, but across the hills I could see the lights flickering at Rosefield and hear the music drifting out of the open windows. It seemed impossibly far, with the pond gleaming in the center.
I mustn’t think about that. There was only right now, only the railing of the balcony under my hand, only my knee bending as I pulled myself over, only the ragged tightness of my breath as I collapsed for a moment, waiting for my head to stop spinning.
I’d made it this far, I’d make it farther still.
There was a trellis on the other side of the balcony. I leaned on it briefly to test its strength, before abandoning the security of the balcony. The roses tickled my nose and the thorns pricked into my skin. I lowered myself slowly, so slowly, my arm muscles quivering with the effort it took to hold up my body. I’d never been so deliriously happy to feel the ground beneath my feet. I glanced up, nodding at Caroline. She nodded back, pale as the moon at the sill.
I crouched behind the yew hedges, catching my breath. Behind the glass of the main parlor, an oil lamp burned. Wentworth’s shadow moved across the papered walls. He was heading back upstairs.
I couldn’t let that happen. He needed Tabitha alive and reclusive so she wouldn’t marry, but now Caroline knew too much. He’d kill her. Especially when he realized I’d escaped.
“Rowena,” I whispered. “You’re the reason I’m in this bloody mess in the first place. Help me, damn you.”
The first rain drop hit me in the eye. I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.
As a sign, it was murky at best.
More rain fell, soaking into my hair, dragging down the hem of my skirts. But the cool damp on my neck had a bracing effect as well, chasing away the lingering traces of the laudanum haze.
I knew what I needed to do.
Even if I really, really, really didn’t want to do it.
I straightened under the spears of lightning hurling out of the sky. I approached the window and stood there, hands presses against the glass. I waited until Wentworth saw me there, waited until he’d reached the doors, before I began to run in earnest, leading him away from Tabitha and Caroline and into the dark shadows of the fields.
I slipped through the muddy grass as rain pelted us from every direction. He followed me, his shirt stained with wine, his hair sticking up every which way.
“Come back here,” he hollered. “You’ve cursed me, you little witch. She won’t leave me alone!”
I flew over the hills, my lungs burning. I stumbled but forced myself to keep running. I nearly wept with relief when I saw Rowena hovering over the pond’s pebbled surface. Thunder growled around us. The wind shredded the lilies. Wentworth grabbed the lace fluttering on the hem of my pantelettes and I tumbled, landing hard. I was winded but still managed to kick out at him.
“Get off me!” I kicked harder, missed. The rain fell slower, pausing as it gathered and froze over the pond. Ice crackled over the water.
Wentworth spat out a mouthful of lily petals. “What the devil?”
There was pressure on my chest and then a searing flash of cold on my hands. Everything was rain and lilies.
I knew the exact moment he saw her, floating toward him. He blanched, even in the darkness of the sudden storm. “No, no.”
She came closer, pale as frog bellies and lily petals. She reached out to touch him and he flinched. Her hand went through him. Frustration sparked though her. She glided through the tall grass, paused above me before reclining as if she meant to lie down and sleep.
Using me as her bed.
My hands tingled, as if I’d held them in ice too long. I felt faraway, and my hand lifted and formed a fist, of its own accord. I tried to scowl but my face wouldn’t cooperate. I tried to unclench my fingers, but they seemed to belong to someone else. My hair floated in the air around me, as if I were underwater,