The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Paranormal Romance

Twenty-Eight

Veronica ended class early. She needed to be alone, to not have to talk. Now that she her new fabric, it was time to get sewing.

Janet was in her room cleaning the other side, as she'd requested, so she had to find someplace else to work. Perhaps the main drawing room would serve; there was always a bright fire in there. But first, she needed her tea.

She picked up the bundle of red wool, put it in her sewing basket, and headed downstairs to the drawing room. Depositing the basket on a chair, she wondered where Mrs. Twig cut her patterns out. The dining room table was certainly long enough. She'd have to find out.

Veronica found Mrs. Twig, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, sitting in the small conservatory doing paperwork. The cakes Veronica had brought from the village waited on the sideboard with the tea things. There were two more hours before tea. Since it was early, just half one, Veronica thought she'd be alone, but it wasn't meant to be. She needed to ask Mrs. Twig about where to cut her fabric out, anyway.

Recalling the photographic plate of the housekeeper with a scroll of mist pouring out of her mouth, Veronica paused. Who was Mrs. Twig, really?

Mrs. Twig looked up and smiled.

"Good afternoon, Miss Everly."

"Good afternoon Mrs. Twig. I was wondering if I could have my tea now...."

"Of course. No use hovering about. Sit down."

"Yes, yes. Of course." Veronica pulled out her usual chair, perched on the edge of the seat, and put her elbows on the table.

"You've ended class early," said Mrs. Twig.

"Yes. I'm a bit out of sorts today, and Jack has a project to do."

"You seem unsettled. Is something wrong?"

"I know I shouldn't have, but I went into the room that adjoins my bedchamber. There was an Ouija board there, on a table, and some strange pictures." Veronica's mouth went dry. "Glass plates. Negatives."

Looking askance at the wilting Veronica, Mrs. Twig rang a bell. In a few moments, Janet came bustling into the room, wiping her hands on a cleaning towel.

"Boil the kettle for tea," said Mrs. Twig. "Miss Everly and I will have ours now."

Janet nodded and went toward the kitchen.

Unable to look at the housekeeper, Veronica stared at the tablecloth.

"I know you've had questions about many things," Mrs. Twig said. "At first I deluded myself into thinking you would not be driven to seek answers, that I could keep you from finding out how different this household is. But you are an intelligent, inquisitive girl. I realize now that it was inevitable you would see things that would arouse your curiosity, and would be, at least on the surface, worrying for you."

Veronica waited to see what Mrs. Twig would volunteer to bring up.

"The room adjoining yours was used for experiments in the psychical arts. Lady Sovay was raised in a family used to such goings on. She brought those interests with her. Sometimes her friends visited from France and that was how they spent their evenings. Mr. Rafe and I thought nothing of it. Neither should you, Miss Everly."

"Well... I'm sorry... but I was raised in a convent."

The teakettle arrived whistling hot. Janet put fresh tea into the china teapot and set it on the table, followed by a pair of teacups and silver tray of cream, sugar and two cakes.