The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Romance by Alyne de Winter Page B

he?” she said.
    “Yes. And the lion’s skin. The true Golden Fleece. Robe of kings.”
    “You don’t say! I never heard that version before. I was taught that the Golden Fleece was a ram’s skin.”
    “But that doesn’t make sense, does it? What is a ram but a sheep and what is a sheep but a subject? Who is more worthy of gold than a king? It is a lion's skin.”
    “I hadn’t thought of it that way. We were taught at Saint Mary’s that the ram with the Golden Fleece was a pre-figuration of Our Lord.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, sir, if Jesus Christ is God, He has always been and always will be. Throughout history He has made His presence known to us through such miracles as rams with golden fleeces. And the Lord is Our Shepherd, of course.”
    Rafe smiled at her as he would smile at a child who thought she was being cleverer than she actually was.
    Frowning, Veronica turned her back to him, put the telescope again to her eyes and looked out over the trees, then aimed it down through the shadows of the birches with their glimmer of marble in the center: The de Grimston’s tomb.
    She veered back up to gaze at the now pitch black sky.
    “The moon is sparkling through the tress,” she said. “It's quite brilliant tonight.”
    She waited for a response. Hearing none, she spun to see her employer standing very still, almost invisible in the dark. She couldn’t stop a chill crawling up her spine.
    “Is everything all right?” she asked.
    “How full is the moon, Miss Everly? Can you see it?”
    “It's waning. Two nights gone. Do you want to see?”
    She offered him the telescope.
    “I don’t need to, Miss Everly. I believe you. I know it is past full. I wanted to hear you say it.”
    “Why?”
    “To see how much you pay attention to such things. I’m glad to see that you do.”
    “I suppose it’s the teacher in me. I feel I must observe all the time, must constantly learn new things to pass on to the students.”
    Rafe took the telescope and pointed it at the sky. Then he swung it down toward Veronica.
    “Just as I thought.” He smiled.
    “What do you mean?”              
    “You are Virgo fallen to earth. The divine mother, she of the sheaves and flour, rising at the high tide of summer before she draws the veil of autumn and we gather it all inside.”
    “How you talk, sir!”
    Rafe lowered the telescope.
    “An instrument like this draws things close, Miss Everly. Allows one to see in , beyond outward appearances, not only wider, but deeper.”
    “Is that so? I had no idea.”
    “Tell me of yourself, Miss Everly. Tell me of your parents and how you came to be here, of all places.”
    He sat on a marble bench, leaving just enough room for Veronica to sit beside him. Looking down at the roof of the house, she saw the glow of white doves huddled under the eaves and on the sills of the tall, dark windows. She wasn’t sure what to tell her employer, or how much. If she volunteered where she came from, he might think her a bad influence and send her away. Or worse yet, he could draw her out, get her to admit things that he could use as grounds for dismissal should anything go wrong.
    “What happened to your parents?” Rafe asked. “You can tell me. I assure you, I won't judge you.”
    Veronica took a deep breath. She had to trust someone. “Well, by the time I was six years old, they were both dead. They’d been actors.”
    “Actors! Perhaps I’ve seen them perform in the West End. What were their names?”
    “My mother was Mae Tyler.”
    Rafe’s face looked dour. He must already disapprove.
    “Your father?”
    “John Everly.”
    Rafe shrugged. He’d never heard of them.
    “My mother did have a success in London, in a play called Varney the Vampire ."
    Rafe rolled his eyes and grinned.
    "You know that play?"
    "Very well, Miss Everly. It's an amusing diversion."
    She swallowed hard. Of course it was not serious theater. Not worth dying for.
    "They went on tour. She got sick