Page 28 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
Chapter 11
Gabrielescortedherbackto Ravenfell.They didn’t speak much as they walked in the late morning sunshine.The words from the young man at the post burned through her still.
When they returned to the manor, she went up to her room.She removed her hat and gloves with practiced ease to keep her hands from shaking.To forget.But it was hard to forget.A sort of nervous energy pulsed through her.As she glanced around her room, seeing the dust and the cobwebs and the worn furniture, she couldn’t stay in this room for another minute.
If she sat still too long, she’d go mad.Her mind would wander into places it shouldn’t—cold drafts, crying children, ghostly whispers in the dark.She needed something to ground her.Something to keep her occupied while she waited for responses to come in from her advertisement she placed with the Tribune.
But when she went back down the stairs, Gabriel announced lunch was served in the dining room.Since she missed breakfast, her stomach was hollow, and she knew she needed to eat.All through luncheon, the boy’s words echoed through her mind.A woman’s wail.A child’s death.And Gabriel’s tone…sharp and icy.A crack in his iron mask for the briefest of moments.
Gabriel served her cold sliced chicken previously prepared with a bit of mustard sauce, sliced fresh fruit, and a pot of tea.The warm scent of the tea was a comfort and a reminder of the home she once had with her parents.
Once he’d served her, he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving her alone.
When she finished, she decided to spend some time in the garden.If her mother loved it, then perhaps she would as well.
Gabriel returned to clear away the dishes.
“I think I’ll dedicate some time to the garden this afternoon,” she announced.“Thank you for lunch.”
He gave a nod.“The sun is strong today, miss,” he said, not quite looking at her.“You’ll want a hat.”
Victoria paused there a long moment, waiting to see if he’d say anything else.He busied himself with the dishes, turning his back to her as he cleared them away and then headed to the kitchen.
He might not have been wrong about the hat, but she wasn’t about to go back upstairs to fetch one.Instead, she headed out the front door and took the same footpath she and her uncle took the day before.
Had it only been that morning when he bid her farewell to return to the city?It seemed as though eons had passed.
She followed the footpath through the vibrant colors of the flowers, enjoying the fragrant smell.Gabriel was right in that it was a hot afternoon and the sun was burning down upon the top of her head.
Surely there was an old garden shed she could rummage through to find a hat.
She continued down the path, past the lilacs that were in full bloom and the bench she and her uncle shared the morning before when he talked of her mother and how she won best in show at the flower festival.Past the hydrangeas with their delicate petals nodding as if in quiet greeting.
As she wandered deeper, the roses sweetened the air.She bent to one bloom, its color a striking pink, and breathed deep.The scent should have soothed her, but there was a stillness in the air that kept her on edge.Then she walked again toward an opening in the bushes.Here, the path opened into a maze of low hedges shaped to perfection.At its heart stood a stone fairy, wings outstretched, mid-flight and forgotten.Beyond the statue half-hidden in overgrowth, a small greenhouse that looked as though it had been neglected for years.Ivy curled over the glass walls, hiding its secrets within.
Perfect, she thought.If there was an old straw hat anywhere, it would be in there.
She headed toward it with purpose, her shoes nearly silent on the cobblestone walkway.At the door, she tried to pull it open.But the ivy kept it from budging.After a few yanks, she finally got the door open and stepped inside.
Light filtered through the dirt-smudged glass, spilling on the floor in slashes.Forgotten pots were scattered along the work table, still full of dirt.Some with dead plants that had tried to thrive without care and failed.On one end of the bench, gardening tools.A wide spade.A fork.
Something under the bench caught her eye.She bent to get a closer look.
Her breath caught as she picked it up.She turned it over in her hands.The blue dress was faded, the fabric brittle.The face was faded, too.Almost nonexistent.Wasn’t there once a smile?A memory tugged at the edges of her mind, but she couldn’t grasp it.Her fingers trembled.Why was it here?
The air shifted, dropping to a cold breeze that curled around her.With it came the scent of lilacs, potting soil, a whisper of memory so vivid it stole her breath.A memory of spending the day out here with her mother.Once.Long ago.
Her mother hummed a tune she didn’t know, while she sat on the low stool smoothing the doll’s hair.
And then a pot crashed to the ground, startling them both.Her mother sucked in a sharp breath and stripped off her garden gloves to investigate the fallen pot on the other end of the greenhouse.
As she did, the girl appeared.
“You said I could play with your doll,” the girl said, her voice flat.“You promised.”
“I didn’t promise.”Victoria clutched the doll to her chest, protective.
“You did.You did.You promised!”she wailed, her voice rising unnaturally high as she stomped her foot.
