The Grimswell Curse by Sam Siciliano

doing.”
    “My niece, doctor—my niece. I am ‘auntie’ to her, and she is a niece to me—at least a niece—more a daughter, as I said.”
    “Very well, madam—Constance.” I started quickly down the hall behind the maid, but Constance moved fast for an old woman and had no trouble keeping up. “And later perhaps you can see your niece.”
    She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. “Oh, thank you, doctor, thank you! And you will explain to Mr. Holmes—you will tell him I was worried about Rose and was not myself—please beg him to forgive me.”
    “There is nothing to forgive, and if there were, he would gladly forgive you.” I hesitated at the doorway, and she seized my arm.
    “Are you not hungry yourself, doctor?”
    I blinked my eyes, surprised at so reasonable a question. “Why, yes.”
    “Send Meg back down, and I shall have her bring up some food for you and your cousin—unless you would care to sup with me?”
    “I... I... must attend to your niece.”
    “Yes, of course. Well, I shall have Meg bring you some food. There is more stew, but we also have some very good hams at Grimswell Hall. Its pigs were always the wonder of the land. In all of Dartmoor...”
    “Anything, madam—anything. I leave it to your discretion. You are very kind.”
    She released my arm at last. Her smile revealed her teeth. “Thank you, doctor.”
    I let the maid leave—she was a tiny thing alongside Constance or Rose—then shut the door. “Lord deliver me,” I muttered.
    “What, Henry?” Holmes stood before a coal fire, warming his hands. The room was much less chill.
    “Nothing. Miss Grimswell—Constance—begs your forgiveness for her rudeness.”
    Rose Grimswell looked up from a plate of stew. The smell again made me ravenous. “She means well, but she can be so... tiresome.”
    “Yes.” I nodded emphatically.
    Rose thrust her fork through a piece of meat, then chewed it slowly. Her eyes briefly met mine, then quickly looked away. “How is your wife?”
    It took a second or two to realize the question was for me. “Oh, she is well. She wishes she could have come.”
    Rose sighed. “I wish she could have come, too. She was so very kind to me. She reminds me of Miss Lambert at school, but she is much younger and prettier. She seems so... sensible.”
    I laughed. “That she is.”
    I stepped nearer to the fire. Outside a sudden gale shook the windows, rattling the panes. Miss Grimswell dropped the fork and raised her head, her eyes opening wide.
    “It is only the rain,” Holmes said.
    She took the fork. “I do not like the wind. It sounds somehow... lonely. It is eerie here in Dartmoor. It sounds like the cry of some beast, some—”
    “It is air in motion,” Holmes said.
    I laughed. “What an unromantic thing to say.”
    Rose ate her stew. “Mrs. Fitzwilliams says it is the souls of the damned crying out, an echo of their misery.” She picked up a piece of bread. “I do not mind the wind during the day, but at night...” She shook her head. “I do dread the night.”
    “There is nothing to be frightened of,” I said.
    A laugh slipped out, twisting her mouth, and the fear was obvious in her eyes.
    “If you are having trouble sleeping, I can give you something that will help.”
    Holmes set one hand on the table and put the other in his pocket. The light from the fire gave his face an orange cast. “Perhaps I shall have a maid sit with you for a while as you fall asleep.”
    Rose eased her breath out. “Oh, thank you. I’d give anything for a good night’s sleep. When you are tired, so tired, it is difficult to think clearly.”
    “I think you will sleep tonight,” I said. “However, the maid and I shall sit with you for a while, and if you have difficulty, I shall prepare a sleeping draft.”
    She swallowed the last of her bread. Already she looked better. “I can face anything after a good night’s sleep.”
    Holmes smiled. “Even Lord Frederick?” He glanced at me. “I