CHAPTER EIGHT - A Distorted Reflection

Grant's announcement seemed to hang in the air.

“Your…fiancé?” Megan asked, dumbfounded.

“She’s here?” Jean’s eyes went wide and a little glazed, like a startled rabbit’s. “Ronnie? Now? Downstairs?”

“In the drawing room, sir. Yes.”

“Your FIANCE'?”

Jean turned to his sister. “Oh hell! Meg, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you – she’s really—I know you’ll—“

“Master Jean,” Grant firmly interjected. “I think you'd best come down quickly – the young lady seemed…most emphatic.”

“Right. Yes. Give me that, sister mine.” Jean grabbed the glass holding the remaining ‘cure’ and downed it with a grimace. “Come on. Ronnie’s really sweet when you get to know her, I swear.”


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Edmund Green was an ambitious man. Of that there was no doubt. He was also a deliberate one. He had laid down his plans years ago, when he was just a boy, half a day from either starvation or jail. He’d managed to swallow his pride long enough to beg for a job here at Halstead and convince them all that he could be trusted. That he could be given any job, no matter how filthy or illegal, and have it taken care of. He hated this damned place almost as much as he despised the inhabitants, but he would do anything, say anything to own it all someday, and pay them all back for what they’d done.

And if that meant making certain…sacrifices, so be it.

At least there were compensations, he mused, shooting a cuff to admire his sleek new Breguet. Nine o’clock already, Christ. He’d have to hurry to get back to his own rooms to clean up and change before starting his day.

“Time and tide, my lad. Time and tide,” he said in a mocking imitation of Mr. Grant.

Easing his way down the back passage from the east wing, he paused for a moment in front of the ornate convex mirror that’d been there as long as he could remember. As he smoothed back his hair and made sure his collar covered the livid scratch marks on his neck, something that might be termed a smile twisted his normally handsome features.

Not that he hadn’t put in a good bit of “overtime” already…

God, he thought, I’ll never be able to wash that bitch’s scent off me. His eyes glinted back coldly as he remembered some of the darker games that had been played late last night in “Milady’s chamber”. At least she’s got a few reminders of her own now, he mused, for the next time she feels like forgetting a promise.

Edmund was so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly missed the flash of…what? Something reddish gold. Just behind him, reflected and warped in the rounded surface of the mirror. A bright skirl of color, then it was gone.

“Who’s there?” He demanded, spinning around. There was nothing in the hallway except a ray of dust motes that danced in the patch of sunlight spilling through the mullioned window. “Annie? That you?” he called out, thinking that the pretty new maid he’d been flirting with to great success had been spying on him. He walked past the window and towards the darkened passageway. “I don’t have time for this, girl. Come out now.”

As he stepped into the gloom there came a sound that Edmund couldn’t quite identify. A moan? A low chuckle? When his eyes readjusted to the dark, he realized that the sound was coming from behind the door at the very end of the hallway. He stood quite still then, and felt an unaccustomed shiver. That door, Edmund knew, led all the way down to the basement room that was used for storing old furniture deemed too decrepit to use, yet too “precious” to throw away. It was also the place where he’d been hiding a few secrets of his own.

And the only key to the sturdy new lock was safely in his pocket.

LAG