Susan tried to move, tried to smile and say she must’ve lost her way (dear Lord, whyhadn’tshe lost her bloody way?), tried to squeeze through the half-inch of space not filled up by the giant and escape Moonseed Manor forever. But her limbs were frozen in place.
“There you are, Miss Stanton,” drawled the giant’s deep voice, as if he and the scarecrow had spent the entire morning looking for her.
Perhaps they had. The scarecrow’s tiny eyes glittered at her above his evil smile.
The giant moved farther into the room. “I see you’ve met my wife.”
His—Once again, Susan’s lungs failed her. She turned to gape at the frail, hunchbacked creature chained to the wall. How could this be Lady Beaune? The woman whimpered, put both gnarled hands to her face, and cowered into the corner.
“Y-you keep my cousin chained up in the cellar?” Susan’s voice was faint, tinny, a dim echo of herself.
“Got to,” rasped the scarecrow, tapping the pole of the shovel into his free palm. “Else she’ll run away from us again.” His button eyes shifted their black gaze to the far corner. “Won’t you, milady?”
Susan’s horrified focus snapped back to the giant, who simply inclined his head in silent acknowledgment that yes, that’s precisely how things were.
Is Lady Beaune at home? Always.
“I-I don’t suppose you might unchain her,” Susan ventured, determined not to flee (or faint dead away) without at least attempting to save her hostess from whatever these two blackguards had planned.
“I don’t suppose I would.” The giant strode over to where his wife trembled, face to the wall. “She’s been a bit of a bad girl, and hidden something that I need. Haven’t you, love?” His deep voice hardened. “Where did you put it? Show me. Now.”
Lady Beaune whimpered, dropped to the dirt floor, curled into a ball.
A growl came from deep within the giant’s barrel chest.
The scarecrow stood in the doorway, slapping the shovel into his palm, grinning and grinning.
Disgusted, the giant turned from his wife and loomed over Susan. His shadow cast her into darkness, making his expression impossible to read. “What are you doing down here, Miss Stanton?”
Somehow, she conjured the ability to speak. “I... got lost on the way to my bedchamber.”
“Is that right?” He patently didn’t believe her. Not that she blamed him. Shameful as her sense of orientation was, at a minimum she knew the difference betweendownandup.He turned toward the scarecrow. “Would you mind accompanying Miss Stanton to her... current... lodgings?”
The shovel dropped into the scarecrow’s palm and stayed there. His straw-thin fingers flexed their grip around the hard wooden handle.
“My pleasure,” came his scratchy reply.
“You know,” Susan blurted, the words darting out so fast even she wasn’t quite sure what she was saying, “now that I think of it, I was meant to go to the dress shop this morning and here it is afternoon already. Miss Devonshire is certainly wondering what on earth has become of that slugabed Susan Stanton, and I truly cannot have her and Miss Grey worried about my well-being. I’ll just call over there now, whilst the errand is still fresh in mind, and do that fitting they promised me for the trousseau I ordered yesterday. I can find my way outside, no problem, although I thank you kindly for the offer of assistance.” She cast her wild gaze toward the stairs. “Very well... I’ll be off, then, I suppose. Er, now-ish.”
The giant and the scarecrow met eyes above her head, reaching an unknown agreement in wordless communication. To her surprise, the scarecrow stepped aside, apparently instructed to let her pass, although he did so with unhidden ill humor.
Susan did not wait for her pardon to be rescinded, but tore up the steps as if the hounds of hell nipped at her heels. She doubted the comparison was very far off. Just ask Lady Beaune.
“Miss Stanton?”
At the giant’s deep voice bouncing up the stairs behind her, Susan’s joints froze up so suddenly that she nearly tumbled all the way back down from the top. She flailed for a nonexistent handrail and managed to right herself at the last second with each palm flattened against opposite stone walls.
“Yes?”
“It might be best for you not to become ‘lost’ in this area again.”
“Er, right,” she responded when she found her voice. “I can see where that could be sound advice.”
“So long as we understand each other,” was the giant’s only reply. A chain rattled somewhere in the shadows.
“Yes, I... I’m certain we do.”
The scarecrow poked his head around the corner, the slash across his face splitting his visage far wider than any human grin ever should.
