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

stumbled onto Baker or oneof the servants. I was scarcely presentable. And worse, it could just as easily be one of the other inhabitants of Loxby Manor.

I grimaced at the thought. Now was a particularly awkward time for a reunion. I plunged behind the velvet drapes at the Lin the hall seconds before the moving shadow clambered into view around the far corner.

From the fold of the curtains I was able to catch a glimpse of the candlelit figure as he took shape in the long corridor.Broad shoulders, medium build, dark hair, lanky gait.

Avery.

My shoulders relaxed, and I pressed my palm to my heart. I’d forgotten Seline said he’d been rusticated from school. Relieved,I nearly vacated my hiding spot, but I realized all too quickly I was in no condition to meet an old friend. Tomorrow wouldbe better.

I held as still as possible as Avery, thankfully unaware of my presence, simply lumbered down the far hall and disappearedfrom sight. I allowed several more seconds to pass to be certain he had indeed retired to his room.

That’s when I heard it. Another set of heavy footsteps, pounding toward me from around the corner of the dark corridor.

Someone else was up and about without a candle, and it wasn’t Seline. I leaned against the window casement and closed my eyes.The pant of heavy breathing seemed to echo down the quiet hall. My skin crawled.

Tap, whoosh. Tap, whoosh.

The nature of the person’s tread was strangely uneven, almost as if the individual dragged something behind him. The pricklingfingers of fear scurried across my chest, tightening every muscle one by one as my memories of Ceylon threatened.

Tap, whoosh. Tap, whoosh.

Whoever it was, he was achingly close. Run! My feet itched to escape, but I gripped the edge of the wainscoting, willing myself to stay in place. It was probably justa servant—the butler or a maid—and they were simply doing their job.

I tried to breathe like my mother had taught me to whenever I imagined things differently from what they actually were. “Everyone is not out to assault you. I promise it will get easier, Charity,” she’d remind me time and again. And she was right . . . about part of it. Time had dulled the pain my attacker left inhis wake, but the wound would never fully heal, not when it was filled so deeply with grief.

It took several minutes for the sounds to drift away and my muscles to slacken and my pulse to slow, even longer for me toallow the silence of the hall to calm me.

Carefully I tugged open the drapes to find an empty corridor beyond the thick fabric. A quick look both directions, and Iwas relieved to see I was indeed alone. I rushed straight into Seline’s bedchamber, sealing the door behind me without a sound.

Much of the yellow room lay as it always had. Heavy mahogany furniture dotting the various walls and a lovely poster bed withgauzy white curtains. I crept forward before resting for a soothing moment on the edge of Seline’s crème coverlet.

She was nowhere to be found.

I looked around in confusion. She had said nothing about staying out the entirety of the night, nor did I believe she would ever do such a thing, not after all she’d revealed about her situation with Miles. I raked the ribbons on my nightgown through my fingers.

Though Seline told me Mrs. Cavanagh had been angry with her earlier in the evening, her mother would certainly want to knowthat her only daughter was not in her bed, particularly at this hour. I’d promised Seline my silence, but her continued absencewas not something to take lightly. The strange footsteps I’d heard pounded over and over again in my head. She could verywell be in trouble.

Recollections flashed through my mind as I debated my next move. If only someone had come looking for me that night in Ceylon,so much would have been different. The thought drove me to my feet. Mrs. Cavanagh must be told and straightaway.

I dashed from Seline’s room and down the corridor to the long family wing without a moment’s hesitation. It wasn’t until Istood before Mrs. Cavanagh’s door, my hand poised to knock, that a fresh wave of nerves sparked to life. I’d not seen Seline’smother in five years, and she had always been terribly proper. What would she think of me, pounding on her door in the middleof the night, forcing her from her bed? Would she brand me as an aid in Seline’s flight from the house?

I swallowed hard and knocked.

The door thrust inward far more quickly than I had anticipated. Mrs. Cavanagh’s hand flew to her chest. “Why, Miss Halliwell!What are you about at such an hour?” Her handkerchief trembled as she dabbed her face.

From the looks of her rumpled evening gown, she’d not been to bed. What mother could sleep after learning of a scandal thatinvolved her own daughter? She’d had such high hopes for Seline. Even in our youth she paraded her about, a living trophyof wealth and privilege.

I rubbed my arms. What I was about to tell her would only make her evening worse.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Cavanagh, but I’m terribly worried. I’ve come about Seline.”

“Seline!” Her eyes flashed, and she shoved the door open wide. “What now, child?” A moment’s hesitation, then she yanked meinto her bedchamber. She cast a weary glance over the hall before slamming the door shut.

I was directed into her private sitting room with a half-hearted gesture of hospitality, which she quickly betrayed with theemergence of a scowl.

The large apartment was a lavish affair, full of deep purples and sumptuous pinks. I couldn’t help but take in the complexitiesof the room as I spoke. “Again, I am sorry to disturb you at such an advanced hour, but it is urgent.”

Mrs. Cavanagh cast a shrewd peek at her clock. “I must say, I’m surprised to find you still awake after such a long journey.I vow you young people shall never cease to amaze me.”

“Seline came to see me earlier this evening.”

“She did, did she?”

“We talked