“It’s okay,” Charlotte said as she moved closer and closer to that ominous door. “He doesn’t mind. You only have to knock in the middle of the night and in the morning.” It was Thursday, Lilly’s third full day at Drayton Hall, and finally Charlotte was offering information without first being prompted. It was the breakthrough Lilly had been hoping for, and an answer to prayer that Charlotte would eventually open up to her. But, going where Charlotte was leading was the last place she wanted to go. Instead of beginning the tutoring right away, Lilly had told Charlotte she needed the child’s help to keep from getting lost at Drayton Hall. She’d used the ploy as much to satisfy her own curiosity as to break the ice with Charlotte. What she hadn’t anticipated was that touring the immense property would take so long. After three days they still hadn’t finished. The unused north and west wings had yet to be explored. According to Charlotte, the ballroom was in the north wing. That was one room Lilly would have loved to see, even if it was as eerie and dismal as the rest of the mansion. Lilly looked down at the bizarre concoction of Charlotte’s clothes—a sky blue dress fringed with white lace, bright green tights, complemented by an orange barrette stuck crookedly on one side of her head. If her hair had been brushed it wasn’t evident. Today Charlotte’s shoes were red. Every morning the little girl appeared in something more outlandish than what she’d worn the day before. It wasn’t from lack of a wardrobe. Charlotte’s enormous closet was filled to overflowing with beautiful, expensive clothes. The problem was Charlotte had no one to help her dress. By questioning Charlotte, Lilly had learned of the strictly regimented lifestyle at Drayton Hall. After breakfast they were supposed to have school until luncheon at one. After luncheon they would study until Charlotte’s riding lesson with Mr. Withers at three. Charlotte’s bath came next—another thing Charlotte had no one to help her with other than Mr. Finch pre-filling the tub and Mrs. Finch depositing towels. After bathing, Charlotte had playtime until dinner at seven. Following dinner she joined her father in the parlor until bedtime at nine o’clock. Everything else Lilly figured out about the stringent household schedule—more specifically his bedtime routine—she’d gleaned by listening to footsteps. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.” She attempted to stop Charlotte one more time from going into her father’s chambers. Charlotte’s little hand was on the knob. “I don’t want to disturb him.” “He’s not in there,” Charlotte said bemusedly, and then she pushed the door inward. The first thing Lilly noticed was darkness. Unlike hers and Charlotte’s rooms, his was decorated in the same cold, bleak manner as the rest of the house. Stained walnut covered the one wall she could see. Dreary charcoal curtains hid what looked like the only window. Charlotte walked over and drew the drapes, hooking them behind iron clips. Sunlight spilled in to reveal the rest of the space. What struck Lilly immediately was the size. Compared to hers and Charlotte’s chambers it was quite small. A bulky, four-poster bed dominated the room. Flanking it were end tables. The fireplace, like all the fireplaces in the mansion, was in the corner. In front of it were two ugly brown leather wing chairs and a small coffee table. Lilly took a step forward and something on the bed caught her eye. It wasn’t empty. But, what was in it was the last thing she expected, and completely out of character, both for the room and the man. There were two dolls tucked under the blankets. Charlotte had an extensive collection of dolls. This much Lilly had discovered the first day. The child’s chambers were similar to Lilly’s, except Charlotte’s were decorated in shades of pink and silver, and filled with more toys and children’s books than Lilly had ever collectively seen. She’d asked Charlotte if her dolls had names. Charlotte had introduced each and every one of them. Before Lilly could ask about the dolls in her father’s bed, Charlotte said, “This is the closet.” Lilly followed and peered in. The closet was almost as big as the bedroom itself. To the left were his clothes, neatly arranged and hanging almost the entire length of the wall. He had a lot of clothes, but not nearly as many as Charlotte did. Except for what looked like a handful of white shirts and maybe half a dozen brown trousers, the rest were charcoal grey or black. Several pairs of well-polished shoes and boots lined the floor, all of them black leather. There were also three pairs of loafers like the ones he’d been wearing that first evening. Two identical, simply-made chests-of-drawers were side by side on the wall opposite the door. Next to them was an enormous porcelain tub. To her right was a washstand, neatly laden with a handful of men’s toiletries. Beside it was a toilet cabinet. “Who’s in your daddy’s bed?” Lilly followed Charlotte back to the bedroom. “Penelope and Henrietta.” Charlotte scurried across the room and half jumped, half crawled onto the high bed. It was a move made with ease, giving Lilly the impression she did it frequently. Charlotte proceeded to pull the blanket back and pick up one of the dolls. “They sleep with Daddy ’cause he’s scared of the dark, ’cept I have to tuck them in for him because he doesn’t do it right.” Had Charlotte been talking about anyone else, Lilly might have laughed. “Are you scared of the dark?” she asked. “Not all the time. Only sometimes. I have Henry to keep me safe.” Henry was a fluffy, owl-shaped doll Charlotte slept with. “Are you scared of the dark?” she asked. Lilly wasn’t quite sure how to answer. She’d never considered herself scared of the dark, but here in the mansion she was. Every rattle was deafening. Every thud caused her eyelids to pop open. Every creak made her shiver. The first night had been the worst. After Charlotte excused herself from dinner, she ran across the hall and slipped through a door—later Lilly had learned it went to the front parlor. That evening, Charlotte closed the door behind her and Lilly couldn’t decide whether she should feel unwelcomed or relieved. She went to her room and picked a book from the shelves in her library. The clock on the mantel said eight thirty when she heard Charlotte come up the stairs. Not long thereafter Charlotte went back down. A half hour later, Charlotte returned to her room. After that the mansion became eerily silent. With a huff of internal censure Lilly had to tell herself to stop acting like a ninny and change into her nightgown. She set the book she’d absorbed absolutely nothing from aside. She’d just finished unlacing her corset when she heard the distant, but distinct tap of that cane. It was eleven o’clock. The remainder of her changing consisted of a harried, hands-shaking attempt to get out of the rest of her underwear, into her nightgown, and hidden under the thick down comforter on her bed. He was nearing the top of the stairs when she buried her entire head. His sluggish, heavy movements were muffled on the crimson carpet, but she was certain he was moving past his own room, across that corridor, right to hers! Her door was locked, but being that this was his mansion, undoubtedly he had the key! The breath she held didn’t come out of her until she heard a door close. But then, just when her heart finally began to beat normally again, hinges creaked. There was no doubt, this time, he was coming for her! For a second she contemplated hiding in her closet, but then decided it would be better to pretend to be fast asleep. It took a moment for her to realize the door she heard next was not hers. Moments later his awkward treads crossed the carpet. It wasn’t long before he went back to his room. His creaky door didn’t open again. This she’d known because the rest of the night she laid awake listening. The second night had yielded much the same. Her third night, she’d slept, but only due to sheer exhaustion. He did exactly the same thing every night, leaving his room and going to another, but the dulled noise on the carpet made it impossible for her to discern which room he went to. Charlotte was staring at her expectantly. “I guess I’m scared of the dark sometimes,” Lilly admitted. Charlotte nodded as if she completely understood. “I will bring you Henry. If you have bad dreams he will sing to you and you won’t be scared anymore.” Touched by Charlotte’s offer, Lilly asked, “I would appreciate that. But what if you get scared and Henry isn’t with you?” “I won’t get scared,” Charlotte said. Fastidiously she tucked Penelope back under her father’s sheet. Charlotte’s solemn expression broke Lilly’s heart. Charlotte was entirely too serious and independent for a six year old. What if she did have nightmares? She should have someone to go to. Someone who didn’t yell at her every time he spoke to her, like her father did! Thankfully Lilly hadn’t seen the man at all. He hadn’t come to one meal or made an effort to speak with her. But she heard his voice every morning. The morning after her first sleepless night, she’d been dressed before dawn and waiting in the sitting area of her chambers for some sound—any sound—that would be a sign it was safe for her to venture forth. More than an hour passed before she heard Charlotte skitter across the hallway. Charlotte’s little fist thumped on the wood. “Daddy, time to wake up!” “Wait!” Lilly heard his gruff response all the way across the hall and through her closed door. A moment later, Charlotte said, “Daddy, wake up!” “I said wait!” he yelled. It was followed by, “Fine! Come!” All grew silent after Charlotte went into his room. Lilly listened intently for his door to open again, but she heard nothing. It took a long internal discourse, and a glance at the clock noting the designated breakfast hour was almost upon them, to convince herself to go out. Charlotte had appeared in the dining room shortly after Lilly. Upon seeing Charlotte’s outlandish outfit, she’d barely been able to contain her nervous laughter. The second and third mornings had been much the same. Once again Charlotte interrupted her scattered woolgathering. “Would you like a piece of chocolate?” Charlotte asked. Lilly smiled. “Yes, I would like that very much. I love chocolate.” “I only have two pieces left. One for you and one for me.” The last of Charlotte’s words were muttered absently. Something had diverted her—something under her father’s monstrous bed. Charlotte got down on her stomach and reached far underneath it. “What are you looking for?” Lilly asked. Charlotte squirmed her way around and stood up. In her hand she held a long, thin wooden stick. The top end was carved into the shape of a five-point star and had been painted shimmering silver and gold. “I forgot I left this in here. I know magic.” “You do?” Lilly feigned awe. “My daddy taught me,” she said. Lilly had no response to that. She followed Charlotte back to her playroom and into her bedroom. There, from the middle dresser drawer, Charlotte produced a small red box and opened it. Inside were two morsels of chocolate. Lilly took the one Charlotte handed her and copied the little girl in popping it into her mouth. It was delectable! “You have pretty hair,” Charlotte said next. “I think your hair is much prettier than mine,” Lilly returned. Charlotte’s hair was more disheveled than it had been the day before, and the day before that. Tangled strands fell from the hastily clipped, crooked barrette, offering further proof of her unacceptable lack of care. “Can you make my hair loopy like yours?” Charlotte asked. “I’ll tell you what,” Lilly suggested. “When you’re done with your riding lesson, after your bath tonight, I’ll brush your hair and fix it just like mine.” Charlotte smiled. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it was the only smile Lilly had seen in three days. She was so thrilled, her throat grew tight. “I have to go now. Withers is waiting for me,” Charlotte said and started away. Impulsively Lilly called out, “Would you mind if I walk with you to the stable for your riding lesson today?” Charlotte’s smile grew. The child was simply beautiful when she smiled. “Okay,” she said. And then she murmured, “You’re nice.” It sounded to Lilly like this was the last thing Charlotte had expected. It was all Lilly could do to keep from wrapping the little girl in a warm hug. As they descended the staircase, Charlotte slid her small hand into hers. Lilly had to swallow before she could find her voice. “Thank you for sharing your chocolate with me. I’ll bet you didn’t know, of all the treats in the whole world, chocolate is my most favorite.” “Mine, too!” Charlotte chirped. Mr. Withers, Charlotte’s riding instructor and the groom for the estate, was a wiry young man, about Lilly’s age with thin blond hair and a wide, friendly smile. Charlotte clearly adored him and the feeling was apparently mutual. In observing their interaction, Lilly drew some relief. At least one person in this awful place provided Charlotte with proper attention. Mr. Withers lifted her up onto her pony and made sure she was properly secured before leading the little horse around the circular track. Charlotte was beaming happily as she bounced along. If it weren’t for the chill in the air, Lilly would have stayed to watch. Intending to retrieve a wrap, she started back toward the vile mansion. From the rise of a hill she could see the roofs of the six cottages Charlotte had pointed out to her on their outside tour the day before. According to Charlotte, Mr. and Mrs. Finch lived in one of them and Mr. Withers in another. The rest were empty. Lilly could also see the overgrown gardens surrounding the far end of the unused west wing of the mansion. Deeply set within them was another building of some sort. During their tour, Charlotte had passed it by as if it didn’t exist. Lilly had wanted to ask about it, but she hadn’t. She entered the mansion through the kitchen, where Mrs. Finch was busily preparing the evening meal. In as friendly a tone as she could, Lilly said hello and asked if there was anything she could do to help. “Oh no, no thank you, miss,” Mrs. Finch murmured. Mr. and Mrs. Finch weren’t nearly as open and amiable as Withers, but Lilly didn’t dislike them. Rather than assuming inevitable castigation on his behalf, it was beginning to amuse her how Mr. Finch ran around lighting lamps every night, claiming to be perpetually late. He certainly did an excellent job of ensuring she had plenty of wood stocked by her fireplace to keep her rooms cozy and warm. And he’d brought fresh bath water for her every day without fail. Lilly would have made an effort to carry on a conversation with Mrs. Finch, but she had tried before with little success. Mrs. Finch barely responded when Lilly complimented her cooking. Intuitively she guessed Mrs. Finch wasn’t intentionally rude. She was merely shy. The only thing Lilly had been able to learn in her attempts to speak with Mrs. Finch was that she only prepared meals Monday through Saturday. Sundays were her day off. Sundays were supposed to be Lilly’s day off, too. At least, that’s what Alex Drayton had told her when he hired her. For the upcoming weekend, she decided she would leave after Saturday dinner, as soon as Charlotte disappeared into the front parlor. She would spend the night with Julie and not return to Drayton Hall until Sunday evening. Ensuring Julie was okay was of utmost importance. Her sister would be giving birth around the holidays, little more than three months away. Threats from Jason Gibson’s creditors were causing Julie a great deal of stress, and this wasn’t good for Julie or the baby. Alex had told Lilly she would receive her wages each week on Saturday morning. Most of what she earned Lilly intended to hand over to Julie. More than anything, however, Lilly couldn’t wait to just get away, even if it was only for one short day. She couldn’t wait to put dreary, frightening Drayton Hall behind her. She couldn’t wait to be in an atmosphere where she wasn’t apprehensive every single second. She couldn’t wait to be out from under the invisible sinister force that seemed to scrutinize her every move. As she made her way along the lower east hallway—a very long hallway—toward the main part of the mansion, her thoughts drifted to the lesson plans she’d made for Charlotte but had yet to use, and guilt settled in. She wasn’t doing what she was being paid to do. At least, however, she’d read to Charlotte a few times. Charlotte certainly seemed to enjoy the children’s book she’d picked from the shelf in her library. She’d enjoyed it so much, when Lilly asked her to pick a book the next day she’d picked the same one. Lilly had read that same book to her again this morning. The only other thing she’d done with Charlotte that was remotely related to schooling was the little ditty she’d tried to teach her called the Addition Song. Charlotte had listened attentively, but no matter how much Lilly coaxed, the little girl wouldn’t sing along. Absently humming to herself, “One plus one is two, two plus two is four, three plus three is six…” Lilly rounded the corner in the east hallway and stopped cold. “Get out!” It was Gabriel Drayton, standing half in, half out of a doorway. Lilly was fairly certain that door went to his study. From the angle she had a clear view of the long fingers of his left hand curled around the doorframe, his right hand firmly holding onto his cane, his warped, black-cloaked form and his silk-swathed head. The only part of his face she could see was the tip of his nose. Alex was there as well. He’d already taken a few steps out into the hallway. Sounding annoyed, he said, “It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to get in such a bother about it.” “Get out!” Gabriel repeated in his gravelly, wicked tone. “For goodness’ sake, Gabriel, it was just an idea.” Alex turned around, saw Lilly and nodded politely to her. “Oh, hello Miss Hawthorne, nice to see you.” Gabriel Drayton spun. His cold eyes narrowed on her, but he didn’t say anything. With a swift scrape of his left foot, he shoved himself backwards. The door slammed shut. “Sorry about that,” Alex said. “No matter what I say to him these days, I make him mad.” He shrugged and grinned. “But enough of that. How are things with Charlotte?” “Okay.” It was all Lilly could think to say. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the study door and Alex. Alex excused himself, saying he needed to get going. Decidedly spooked, Lilly waited until he was gone, then raced through the hall, moving past that door as fast as she could. She didn’t slow down until she was locked in her room, and she didn’t come out again until the dinner hour. While descending the staircase, repeatedly she told herself she had no reason to fear Gabriel Drayton. He was upset with his cousin, Alex, not with her. He had yet to speak with her. Except for today, she hadn’t even seen him. If things continued in this manner, she could be Charlotte’s tutor without ever having to deal with him at all. As she much preferred. Charlotte appeared in the dining room in another outrageous collaboration of colors. Lilly took one look at the little girl’s still-damp hair, and realized her mistake. She’d completely forgotten her promise. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” she said quietly. “We were supposed to fix your hair after your bath.” “It’s okay,” Charlotte shrugged. “How ’bout I fix it for you after dinner?” Lilly asked. “Okay,” Charlotte said and she smiled. Their conversation during the meal was, for the first time, more than Charlotte simply answering Lilly’s questions. And, for the first time Lilly heard Charlotte laugh. It was the funniest rapid staccato giggle, and it provoked her own. By the end of the meal, although she wouldn’t sing, Charlotte was at least humming along to the number song. They went back to Charlotte’s room afterwards so Lilly could braid and style Charlotte’s hair. As soon as she finished, Charlotte ran to the mirror and giggled. “Do you like it?” Lilly asked. “Yes!” Charlotte beamed. “I have to show my daddy! Do you want to come with me?” All the good humor in Lilly drained instantly. She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to intrude.” “What’s intrude?” Charlotte’s nose wrinkled curiously. “It means go somewhere you’re not welcome. Perhaps your daddy would rather I don’t come.” “He won’t mind,” Charlotte replied matter-of-factly. Lilly was stuck and there was not a thing she could do about it. She rose, reminding herself to be strong. She could do this—for Charlotte—because Charlotte was a darling child and deserved so much better. Charlotte took her hand as they went down the stairs. The simple gesture fortified her. Even so, the moment Charlotte pushed open that parlor door, Lilly’s stomach catapulted into her throat. Like the rest of the mansion, the room was a morose, enormous place. There were several lit lamps on the walls and the fireplace was blazing, but shadows lingered. The huge, lion-clawed piano in the corner caught Lilly’s eye as much this time as it had when she’d seen it during Charlotte’s tour. Lilly had asked Charlotte if she played, and Charlotte said, “Only my daddy plays sometimes.” The man in question was slouched at one end of the dull rust sofa near the fireplace with his cane propped against the side of it and his left leg stretched out in front of him. His left forearm was lying on the arm of the couch with his long fingers dangling off the end. His other forearm was on the cushions beside his thigh, making his shoulders appear even more warped than when he was standing. His crooked torso was extremely lean, so willowy she could almost consider him gaunt. And now that she had a good view of the uncovered side of his face, she could have sworn his skin was even more eerily pale than when she’d seen him before. The area around his sunken, uncovered eye was so dark it looked bruised. The overall ghostly apparition he presented, she decided, had to be an optical illusion, brought on by the overly large sofa and poor lighting. His head had been resting against the cushions, but he raised it when they entered. Lilly was certain his eyes had been closed, too. That sinister gaze was now focused right on her. She wanted to keep looking at him. She wanted to stare right back until she could dispel the element of evil-like mystery that shrouded him, but she couldn’t. “Daddy,” Charlotte said brightly. “Miss Lilly is going to play with us tonight!” “Is that so?” His uncovered eyebrow arched. “I don’t want to impose,” Lilly murmured. “Impose?” He let out a noise—a grunt. He didn’t get up but flippantly gestured to the wing chairs across from the sofa. “Make yourself at home.” “Th…thank you.” Why was it so difficult to find her voice? The last thing she wanted was for him to realize how truly scared she was! She chose the chair closest to the door. To Lilly’s horror, Charlotte scooted up onto the couch right beside him. “Do you like my hair, Daddy? Miss Lilly did it for me,” she said. “It’s fine,” he muttered. An awkward silence permeated the room. Charlotte was alternatively fiddling with her fingers and glancing at her father. Lilly kept her focus on the carpet and the intricate leaf-like patterns of rust, brown and black. Eventually he said, “I thought you brought Miss Lilly here to play with you?” There was no mistaking the veiled sarcasm over her name. Charlotte shimmied onto her knees and leaned close to him. With one hand she moved the hair away from his uncovered ear, tucking it behind. With the other she hid her mouth so she could whisper to him. Lilly cringed, anticipating the moment he would yell and shove her away. “Fine. Go on,” he said. Charlotte jumped down from the sofa and skittered out. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife. Lilly had absolutely no idea what to say. She picked nervously at her fingernails, wishing she could run out of there as fast as Charlotte had. She counted the brown leaves in the carpet. She counted a pile of imaginary apples in her mind. And all the while she could have sworn he was staring at her with those awful eyes of his. But then, when finally she forced herself to look, he wasn’t. His focus was on the fire. “Where did Charlotte go?” she managed to ask. It was the only thing she could think of to say. “To relieve herself.” His frosty gaze turned on her, and he added gruffly, “And, I suspect, to bring something to play with.” “Oh.” Again silence lingered. This time, Lilly was certain he was looking at her. She counted more leaf-like shapes, and was up to thirty-three apples when his raspy voice caused her to jolt. “Your room is sufficient?” His tone told her he didn’t care whether it was or it wasn’t. “The suite is lovely. Very comfortable. It’s much grander than I expected. Your home is very…very beautif—” Nerves were making her babble. She cut herself off as his eyes narrowed. “How is Charlotte doing with her studies?” he asked. She forced an apologetic smile, “Well, we haven’t really—” “Yes,” he interrupted, “nosing around where you don’t belong does take time. I suggest, Miss Hawthorne, from now on you stick to doing what you were hired to do.” He didn’t raise his voice at all, but his tone was icy. Lilly could feel the blood rushing to her head. “I’m…I’m sorry…” she squeaked. “I’m sure you are,” he said, then added, “Now.” “Mr. Drayton, I…I am truly sorry.” He didn’t reply. But at least he stopped staring. He was looking at the fire again. The seconds ticked by and Lilly became even more appalled with herself when she felt the burn of tears. Charlotte’s return was her saving grace, enabling her to regain some semblance of control. Charlotte was carrying the marble maze from the dresser in her bedroom. She set it on the end table next to Lilly and withdrew three marbles from her pocket. Happily she chattered while demonstrating how the toy worked. The marbles she set into the small hole at the top caused the wooden pieces to turn and twist, dropping each marble from one to the next until they landed in a cup at the bottom. “May I try, too?” Lilly asked. Charlotte handed Lilly one of the marbles and held up another. “I’ll take Daddy’s turn with this one,” she said. Lilly chanced a glance at him. He looked completely engrossed in the fire, so much so that she thought he probably wouldn’t respond even if spoken to. It was quite apparent he had no interest whatsoever in playing with Charlotte’s toy. A moment later, surprising Lilly, Charlotte walked over to her father and stood so close to his leg the side of her petticoated skirt became severely dented. “Daddy, I brought cookies.” “Did you?” He sounded bored. Charlotte reached into her pocket and withdrew three cookies, one of which she handed to him, and then she skipped across the room to give one to Lilly. “They have chocolate pieces in them.” “Thank you very much,” Lilly said. Charlotte returned to the sofa, climbed up onto it and took a bite of the one she’d kept for herself. “Daddy,” she chirped, “Miss Lilly likes chocolate just like me! Will you bring me more chocolate?” Gabriel wasn’t eating his cookie. He’d dropped it on the end table beside him as if he was furious with Charlotte for giving it to him. “No, Charlotte, I won’t bring you more chocolate!” he growled. A surge of protectiveness welled in Lilly. The man’s tone was entirely too harsh to use with a child, especially one as sensitive and timid as Charlotte. Rather than appearing upset, Charlotte continued to nibble. She finished the cookie and turned to him again. “What should we play next?” “Perhaps Miss Hawthorne should retire?” he said. It was a dismissal. Lilly didn’t hesitate. She rose, thankful to be getting out of there. “Can we play some more tomorrow?” Charlotte’s voice was small and despondent. Lilly wasn’t sure whether Charlotte was posing the question to her or to him. The only thing she could do was offer Charlotte a smile. She used it to hide the fury she felt—fury toward that…that creature!—who was staring at her again! She could have sworn there was a triumphant gleam in his eye. Never in her life had she wanted to hit someone, but she had the overwhelming urge to walk over and slap the exposed side of that awful white face! Instead she excused herself. He said nothing, not one word of farewell, as any polite person would have done. By the time she reached her room tears were threatening again. But this time they weren’t caused by fear or humiliation. This time they were tears of anger. No wonder people said what they said about him! Kicking her shoes off, she told herself she would never let an ogre like him make her cry. And so she swallowed until her resolve was firm and her eyes were as dry as bones
