under the door, I caught a line of candle-glow and, with it, a trickle of sound.
I opened the door and looked in.
Lord Grey was kneeling, picking up the scraps of a broken teacup lying on the floor. For all his height, he looked so small crouching there. The teacup had been flung across the room from the china cabinet and had smashed into pieces so small, the force used on it must have been incredible. One of the chairs was also destroyed, splintered out of almost all recognition. Could the slight man before me have done that? He lifted his eyes as I stepped forward.
“Sir, leave it. I’ll do it.” I knelt next to him and reached to take the china from his hands. He flinched.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t touch me, Anne.”
I blinked. What?
He rose and threw what he held in his hands into the dust bin, picking shards off his palm with care.
“I think it might not be a bad thing, Anne, if you stayed away from me.”
“Sir, why?”
“I will not be held responsible for what might happen.”
“Sir, what do you mean? What could happen?”
His laugh was too dark to be comforting. “Anything, Anne. Anything.”
He left the room. A flare of warmth ran through me; it was not right, not fair. I deserved to know what was occurring around me. I chased after Lord Grey, questions bubbling in my mouth, regardless of their propriety or lack thereof. He turned at my steps.
“Sir, I’m sorry, I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but I’d really appreciate knowing the truth of what’s happening in the manor.”
“You don’t need to know. At least, not yet.”
“If I am to stay, I think I deserve to understand what I’m choosing.”
His body oozed black hostility.
“The door is open. Leave whenever you like.”
“No, sir, I will not abandon my post.”
“Your post? That’s what you’re concerned about? I’ll write you a glowing letter of reference, don’t worry.” He laughed. His chest rose as a coughing spell overtook him.
I waited until the spasm passed. “What else should I be concerned about?”
He stepped toward me in the night-filled hall.
“Your life.”
Lord Grey turned again, heading for the stairs, but I reached out and grasped his arm. Me and my damn hands.
A jolt raced up my palm, numbing my fingers and wrist, making me jerk my hand back with a yelp.
“Not the wisest thing to do.”
I looked up into his face, afraid of what I’d find, but his eyes were as still and quiet as always. Nothing flickered behind their stare.
“Let me see.” He gathered an edge of his shirt and wrapped it around his hand so that no bare skin remained. He then extended the cloth-wrapped appendage toward me, but I pressed my injured hand with my left one and shook my head.
“I don’t think so, sir.”
With an impatient release of air, he yanked my hand toward him with a stronger grip than I would have imagined. I felt no new pain at his touch, but my palm’s numbness had begun to fade, leaving behind a trail of hot thorns.
“I did warn you, if you recall. It’s a minor burn, nothing to sob over, but I’m sure it hurts.”
I nodded.
“Come, I have something to help with the pain.” He released my hand and headed for the stairs.
Against all reason, I followed.
Lord Grey lit all the lights in his antechamber, giving the room a comforting glow, a square of light amid the pressing darkness. Then he glanced through one of his cabinets stocked full of jars with different colored pastes and powders.
“Here, put this on your hand.” He unscrewed the lid of a little round container and passed it to me. It smelled sweet, yet spicy, a hint of pepper tickling my nose.
“What is it, sir?”
“It’s a balm for burns.”
My face must have betrayed my skepticism, because he chuckled. “It’s not poison.”
I dipped a finger in the cool cream and spread it on my pulsing palm. I gasped as the salve seemed to gather the pain to it, erasing it from my hand.
“Yes, it’s quite good. My own
I opened the door and looked in.
Lord Grey was kneeling, picking up the scraps of a broken teacup lying on the floor. For all his height, he looked so small crouching there. The teacup had been flung across the room from the china cabinet and had smashed into pieces so small, the force used on it must have been incredible. One of the chairs was also destroyed, splintered out of almost all recognition. Could the slight man before me have done that? He lifted his eyes as I stepped forward.
“Sir, leave it. I’ll do it.” I knelt next to him and reached to take the china from his hands. He flinched.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t touch me, Anne.”
I blinked. What?
He rose and threw what he held in his hands into the dust bin, picking shards off his palm with care.
“I think it might not be a bad thing, Anne, if you stayed away from me.”
“Sir, why?”
“I will not be held responsible for what might happen.”
“Sir, what do you mean? What could happen?”
His laugh was too dark to be comforting. “Anything, Anne. Anything.”
He left the room. A flare of warmth ran through me; it was not right, not fair. I deserved to know what was occurring around me. I chased after Lord Grey, questions bubbling in my mouth, regardless of their propriety or lack thereof. He turned at my steps.
“Sir, I’m sorry, I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but I’d really appreciate knowing the truth of what’s happening in the manor.”
“You don’t need to know. At least, not yet.”
“If I am to stay, I think I deserve to understand what I’m choosing.”
His body oozed black hostility.
“The door is open. Leave whenever you like.”
“No, sir, I will not abandon my post.”
“Your post? That’s what you’re concerned about? I’ll write you a glowing letter of reference, don’t worry.” He laughed. His chest rose as a coughing spell overtook him.
I waited until the spasm passed. “What else should I be concerned about?”
He stepped toward me in the night-filled hall.
“Your life.”
Lord Grey turned again, heading for the stairs, but I reached out and grasped his arm. Me and my damn hands.
A jolt raced up my palm, numbing my fingers and wrist, making me jerk my hand back with a yelp.
“Not the wisest thing to do.”
I looked up into his face, afraid of what I’d find, but his eyes were as still and quiet as always. Nothing flickered behind their stare.
“Let me see.” He gathered an edge of his shirt and wrapped it around his hand so that no bare skin remained. He then extended the cloth-wrapped appendage toward me, but I pressed my injured hand with my left one and shook my head.
“I don’t think so, sir.”
With an impatient release of air, he yanked my hand toward him with a stronger grip than I would have imagined. I felt no new pain at his touch, but my palm’s numbness had begun to fade, leaving behind a trail of hot thorns.
“I did warn you, if you recall. It’s a minor burn, nothing to sob over, but I’m sure it hurts.”
I nodded.
“Come, I have something to help with the pain.” He released my hand and headed for the stairs.
Against all reason, I followed.
Lord Grey lit all the lights in his antechamber, giving the room a comforting glow, a square of light amid the pressing darkness. Then he glanced through one of his cabinets stocked full of jars with different colored pastes and powders.
“Here, put this on your hand.” He unscrewed the lid of a little round container and passed it to me. It smelled sweet, yet spicy, a hint of pepper tickling my nose.
“What is it, sir?”
“It’s a balm for burns.”
My face must have betrayed my skepticism, because he chuckled. “It’s not poison.”
I dipped a finger in the cool cream and spread it on my pulsing palm. I gasped as the salve seemed to gather the pain to it, erasing it from my hand.
“Yes, it’s quite good. My own
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