Page 21 of Euphoria
I was never afraid of the dark as a child and hadn’t batted a eyelid as an adult, so I slipped out of bed, opened the door without fear, and peered out into the hall.
The space beyond was empty, and not a soul disturbed the peace. Then what had been at my door? My imagination? No, I’d heard it clearly enough in my wakefulness—a scratching and a heavy breath. Someone had been at my door. It was unmistakable.
Deciding to explore further, I slipped into a pair of jeans and donned my boots, closing my bedroom door firmly behind me. As the mechanism clicked into place, a soft peal of laughter echoed down the hall. I recognized it immediately. It had the same aura of madness I’d heard on the first day I’d been in residence when Alice had shown me the upper floors of Thornfield.
I paused, listening to the silence as hard as I could, blood whooshing in my ears like static. The sound echoed again. I turned toward it and took a step forward. Then quick footsteps from someone unknown and another peal of laughter.
Feeling like I was being taunted, I followed the sound, determined to put an end to whatever game was being played upon me. I was quiet and little and kept to myself, which might be strange to some, but I was not easily made a fool of. I was strong willed enough and would not settle for bullying, if bullying this was.
“Hello?” I called out to the empty hall as I advanced, but no call was returned.
Rising to the third floor, I passed the door to the library and found it ajar. I didn’t dare peer inside, so I closed it and kept walking, investigating the far end of the hall.
I’d never been this far into the west wing before. Knowing Edward kept his rooms in this part of Thornfield, I had kept my distance, even though I’d been tempted to walk this way on occasion.
That was a different mystery than the one now luring me out into the darkness, so I pushed all thought of the man from my mind and concentrated on the silent hotel around me.
I enjoyed stories about phantoms and spirits, and I’d never really believed in them as such, but as the moon’s light played across the carpet in front of me, the old glass panes in the windows distorting the light, I almost began to think they were real. The lengthening shadows made everything feel otherworldly, like I’d stepped through my bedroom door into a dream world full of tricksters and nymphs, all of them delighting in leading me on a wild chase.
Turning the corner, I came upon a shadowy figure, and I stumbled, my heart racing. The person—for it was a human being—turned, and the light of the moon through the windows illuminated her face.
All at once, I recognized Grace Poole, the ghostly housekeeper who lingered in the dark corners of Thornfield, scarcely emerging from her hidey-hole to engage with the world. I wasn’t sure who I was expecting to find at the end of the trail of laughter, but it wasn’t her.
“Grace!” I exclaimed as she beheld me.
“Sorry to startle you, Miss,” she said, looking just as bewildered to find me as I was her.
“What are you doing out so late?”
“I may ask you the same,” she replied. “I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, I walk to clear my mind, but it’s too cold to go outside.”
My heart still beat furiously, my skin tingling with a sinister sensation. “I thought you were a ghost.”
“No, I’m no ghost, I assure you. The shadows are long, though. Sometimes, the halls give me a strange chill in the dark.”
“Were you laughing just now?” I asked, not sure I believed her explanation. I knew what I’d heard.
Grace’s eyebrows rose in surprise at my question. “Laughing, Miss? No.”
I couldn’t say more without revealing myself to be quite mad, so I edged away from the woman. “Well, goodnight then, Grace.”
“Goodnight,” she returned politely and walked away, her shoes shuffling along the carpet like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I watched her until she disappeared around the corner, and then I lingered for a long moment, listening to the silence. Whatever sound I had heard had long disappeared into the night, and I was left feeling like I had chased a dream through the halls.
Still, as I hastened back to my room, I had an otherworldly sense that eyes were watching my progress. Whose eyes, I didn’t know, but they were there.
When I returned to my room, I made sure my door was locked tightly.
Ihardly heardanything Alice had to say in the office when I went down the next morning.
I pondered Grace’s position at Thornfield and came to realize no one had explained what she did and why she seemed to be paid more than the other staff for whatever it was she was expert in. Her behavior seemed rather odd, too. Laughing to herself in the halls in the dead of night was in the realm of madness.
“Alice,” I said, not able to take it anymore.
“Yes?” the woman asked, glancing up from her work.
“What exactly does Grace Poole do at Thornfield?”
