But the one William would find in the corner of the nursery every once in a while, with his head pressed into his knees. The one who cried because his mother never had time for him. The one who confessed once that William should be grateful. “At least she notices you when she scolds you or punishes you. She doesn’t even remember I’m here,” he’d once cried.
The same pity William had possessed then formed back in the pit of his gut. He closed the door, raked air into his lungs, and wiped a hand down his tired face.
Tomorrow, he would face the woman who had hurt them both.
Morning chased away the horrors of pain and exhaustion. William washed, dressed, and wolfed down a hot breakfast, though Cook screamed and nearly fainted upon first sighting him.
On his way to the west wing, even Ruth was startled.
The girl fluttered both hands to her mouth, turned three shades whiter, and looked as if she might have slunk to the floor if William had not steadied her. “Oh … oh, but you be dead, sir. Mrs. Willoughby said you—”
“A mere miscommunication.” William winked. “Either that, or I have come back to haunt the place.” When the girl swooned again, William laughed and guided her to a hall chair. “Poor girl. Sit here and rest until you feel better. Do you not know ghosts cannot be touched?”
Wide-eyed, she glanced at his hand on her elbow. The thought seemed to comfort her, but she managed nothing more than an incoherent noise.
“Now, when you have your legs again, go and tell Miss Ettie that I am returned. Break the news to her gently, for I do not wish to catch everyone I encounter.” He hurried on to the west wing, and the nearer he drew to the bedchamber door, the more his breakfast roiled in his stomach.
He didn’t want to face her.
A thousand times he’d been forced into this bedchamber, where he’d been inflicted with words that had bruised him. Sometimes she’d slap him across the face, her rings snagging his skin and bringing blood. Other times she’d yell for a footman to drag him out and lock him in solitude.
But always, he left injured. Today he was injured before he even entered her presence.
He swept inside without knocking, and as he shut the door behind him, he tried to adjust his eyes to the dimness of the room. The closed draperies allowed in little light. Dust motes floated across the air, landing here and there across dusty furniture.
The bed creaked. “Go and fetch me another quilt. It is damp and cold in here. I told you that, stupid girl.”
Staring at the lump under the covers, William crept closer. Poor Ruth. No wonder the young maid was always timid and frightened.
“Girl!”
“I fear she is not well at the moment. She fell ill after seeing me.”
A gasp, then the lump rolled over until a sallow, stricken face stared back at him. Shadows hung under the eyes, and the wrinkled lips lacked even the small color they’d had before. “You.”
He bowed. “At your service, Aunt.”
“What are you doing? How are you here?”
“He was mistaken.”
“Who?”
“The man who told you I was dead.” William walked to the window, ripped back the draperies. A million more dust motes stirred in the morning light rays. “How long have you been plotting to have me killed?”
“You insolent fool. Shut that drapery. Come here this instant.”
“I am afraid not, Aunt. Things do not work as they used to. I am far too big for dark rooms.”
She scooted herself up, breathing fast and raspy, snot leaking from her red nose. “What happened? He assured me you were gunshot, that you toppled from a cliffside and your body washed into the sea.”
“Things are not always as they seem.”
“Do not speak riddles to me! I want to know. How did you escape?”
“Does it matter?”
A series of deep coughs rattled her chest. Then, leaning her head against the headboard in exhaustion, she rasped, “No. It does not matter, I suppose. I should have known a wretched lamplighter from the village could not do as I asked. I should have … but no, it does not matter. Even you being alive does not matter, because Rosenleigh still does not belong to you.” Her rheumy eyes settled on him. “You really do not know, do you?”
