The Vanishing at Loxby Manor by Abigail Wilson (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

I stood and made my way back to my bedchamber door, peeking behind me every few steps. She watched my movements with her paw raised to bolt until I mimicked the soft meow I’d heard her make before. She tilted her head to the side. I repeated the sound, and just like that, she took a hesitant step forward. One more time, and to my infinite surprise, she trotted right up to my feet.

It was almost as if we understood one another. At least I hoped so. Everyone needed to feel safe.

I was cautious to touch her for fear I’d scare her off again, so I nudged the door wide and made my way to the center of theroom before kneeling on the rug. One more heartfelt meow and the fluffy white bundle leapt straight into my waiting arms.It seemed Seline’s unwanted cat just might be my newest friend.

Her silky fur was as soft as I remembered and her movements as dainty. I carried her to the seat by the window and let herrelax into my lap. “I don’t believe you have a name, and that will never do if we’re to be friends.”

She stretched, then licked her paw. She had a sweetness to her face, an innocence to be protected.

I simply held her for a long moment, relishing the feel of her warm body. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the affectionof another being, even a feline one. Then I leaned down near her silky ear. “You know, when I had to move to Ceylon, I missedmy home in Britain terribly. There was one awful week when I wasn’t certain I could go on. I found myself at the house ofa friend of my mother’s, and the lady showed me the snowdrops she’d planted in her garden.

“It was a little thing, but somehow she knew I needed that reminder of home. I decided right then and there that somehow Iwould find a way back to Britain, which is why I came here. What do you think, Snowdrop? Do you like your name? I think itsuits you quite nicely. You can help me remember why I’m here.”

Snowdrop wriggled inward as I ran my fingers along her soft back, and the tension in my muscles eased.

We sat for some time just so, enjoying each other’s company, the blessed silence of companionship filling the space between us. At length I rested my head against the side of the bow window only to sit forward once again.

I rubbed my eyes to be certain I’d seen what I thought I had.

A light . . . in the valley?

I took a sharp glance down at Snowdrop as if she might hold the answer I sought. “What on earth?”

Shining like a beacon beneath the crescent moon, amid the stony remains of Kinwich Abbey, was a light. Not just any light—thesame one I’d seen the night Seline had disappeared.

My heart ticked to life, all kinds of suppositions racing through my mind. Who could be out there in the gloom . . . again?Avery? Tony? Hugh? Or someone else entirely? Like Seline?

I set Snowdrop on the floor, and she skittered beneath my bed like a wild animal. Her frantic flight left me biting cold.I inched my gaze to the door as a sinking feeling spread through my chest. My sixteen-year-old self never would have questioneda romp through the woods at night, particularly if it meant that I might glean some answers. So why did my legs resist now?I was back in Britain, after all, in the countryside where I’d always felt free.

I closed my eyes. Pretend . . . First, I had to believe I was still the person I had been before. Everything else would comelater—the confidence, the joy.

By hook or by crook as they always said. I only needed time.

I wandered to the wardrobe and retrieved my pelisse, determined to keep my dark thoughts at bay. Perhaps I could make my wayinto the garden to see if I could catch a glimpse of who might be returning home. Surely I could do that alone.

I took a deep breath as I fastened the buttons on my coat, then forced my legs to carry me through my bedchamber door.

Why did the corridor seem darker than before, the shadows deeper? The solitary candle in my hand proved a poor companion as the layers of darkness shifted around me, yet I was determined to take a step forward, even if it was a small one.

At the landing I was forced to peer into the murky floor below, and my heart deserted me. On the crest of a cold wave, thehairs on my arms prickled to attention. All too easily I could imagine the twists and turns of Loxby concealing a presence,that someone or something lurked just out of sight . . . waiting for me to descend the stairs.

I shook my head, my hand finding the balustrade. I was being ridiculous as usual. There was nothing down below.

Carefully I descended the stairs on a tingling surge of terror that seemed to dissipate at first, then charged once againto the surface with the far-off click of a door latch.

My eyes snapped open wide, and I froze at the bottom step. “Is someone there?”

Only silence replied—the buzzing emptiness my mind filled readily enough with the suggestion of ghostlike whispers.

The circle of light I’d relied on up until now felt like a hindrance as the depths of the room beyond the reach of the candle’sglow faded to black. Instinctively, I blew out the flame to keep from being seen, which plunged me into the sickly gray lightof the moon.

Several agonizing seconds passed while I waited for my eyes to adjust. Then I crept across the entryway to the hall that ledto the back of the house.

The cool air felt like ice in my throat, and I considered returning to my room more than once, but eventually I made it tothe side door, the one that led to the rose garden, and pushed through it.

The night had come alive since Piers and I stood