The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Paranormal Romance

Twenty-Seven

The morning was so foggy that it seemed a continuation of the night. Veronica woke staring into the other chamber, wondering if she'd dreamt the whole thing about the photographic plates and the Ouija board. But in the misty morning, it didn't matter. What powers did such things have in the light of day? Though the dread Ouija board was basically in her room, nothing bad had happened. She'd slept well. The terrors of the night had flown with the sunrise.

As far as Rafe was concerned, even if there were another lady in the picture, at least he was communicating with her again. That was something to hold on to.

Veronica smiled to herself. Despite her perfumed letters, the other lady was far away in France while Veronica was here, in the house, with Rafe. The French lady was the one who should be worried.

Out of bed, the room was drafty, chilly. Veronica quickly washed, dressed and hurried downstairs for breakfast. The house was quiet and dusky, lighted candles and fires blazing in the gloom. Janet was there. She arranged a single set of dishes on the dining room table, and then walked away as if she were finished.

"Janet, you forgot a few," Veronica said, wafting over to the window to look out for the twins. She caught a whiff of the cologne she'd brought Janet from the village. She was happy the maid was pleased with her gift, her peace offering, happy that the dust appeared to have settled and they could be friends. Veronica realized, with a pang, that she had the need of an ally after what she'd found in her rooms.

"Where is everybody?" Veronica asked.

"Oh, didn't you know, Miss? Mr. Rafe set out for France before sunup."

Veronica sank down on a chair. "France? What is he doing there?"

"He got a letter. Somebody sent for him. Back at the chateau. He's got quite a circle of friends back there, he has. They can't seem to go on without him for long, the way they write and beg for him to come back all the time."

"What kind of people are they?"

"Oh, artists and society types. Not anyone the likes of us would associate with."

"Yes... of course."

Veronica stood up and paced back to the window. Where were the twins? And Mrs. Twig?

"Did the others see Mr. de Grimston off, or something?"

"Yes."

"What about class? It's a school day."

"They should be back before lessons start."

Veronica didn't want to sit alone in the dining room looking out at the foggy orchard and the moor, out there, where Rafe was going back to her.

"Janet, I'd like to have breakfast up in my room. I have to prepare for class."

"Of course."

"Thank you. And Janet... I hate to ask you... but could you clean out the sitting room attached to mine? It's gotten dusty. Maybe take away some of that old furniture... and other things? I'd like to make it more look more orderly."

Janet gave her a stunned look. "I'll have to ask Mrs. Twig about moving furniture. I can give it an extra good clean up, at least."

"That would help. If you would just fix my breakfast, please, I'll take the tray up."

"All right, Miss."

Supplied with a steaming breakfast tray, Veronica hurried back upstairs to her room. Her emotions were in such turmoil, she wouldn't be able to eat a thing. She could already taste the cardboard.