Little Doll (Blackmoth House #1)

Chapter 16

No one had ever told me that my father was supposed to marry someone else before he met my mother. And definitely no one ever told me it was widely believed among London society that he’d changed his mind about marrying the woman and killed her to avoid the wedding. It was a different side of Costel Westminster that I had never imagined could exist. I couldn’t believe these were the types of things my mother had heard about him, and that she’d married him all the same.

When I discovered the bones and began to scream, it brought my mother and father running. It was almost as terrifying as the night that I first tasted blood. But this time, instead of turning away and leaving angrily, Father peered down into the trunk and then dropped to his knees before it. He threw his head back and gave a pitiful, anguished cry.

With a gasp, I stumbled backwards. I gaped at him, crying on the floor with tears streaming down his cheeks. I’d never seen my father like this. Not even close.

I stole a glance at my mother. I could barely make her out where she stood cloaked in shadow. But it seemed like she had a dark expression of pure fury on her pretty face.

“Wilhelmina!” Father cried. “Oh no no no, my darling Wilhelmina!” He reached into the trunk and floundered the lacy dress and the brittle bones into his arms. He bunched the macabre bundle against his chest and sunk his face into the tattered folds of the wedding dress.

So shocked and taken in by the scene, I barely noticed Mother spinning on her heel and running from the attic.

There was a quick and quiet burial of the bones during the very next afternoon. I was sequestered to my stone room at the time, but Fane told me about it afterward. He said that it was pouring down rain and Mother didn’t attend. Only Costel, Cleo, himself and Draven stood alongside the open grave with the wooden box containing the bones lowered into the earth. And a gravedigger stood by at the ready.

Fane said Costel had explained to him and Draven that he’d once loved this woman, Wilhelmina Payne, but that on their wedding day, she had disappeared. He confessed that after the dust had settled, locals had gossiped that Costel himself had done something to dispose of her. As though she were an unwanted bride. There had been ugly speculations that she had been pregnant and that was the only reason he was marrying her. And that in the end, he hadn’t cared to go through with it and had ended her instead.

Fane reclined in my bed, chatting away as I dressed. “It was quite extraordinary, if I’m being honest,” Fane remarked with a short laugh.

“What was?” I asked.

“The fact that he just admits that everyone thinks he’s a murderer!”

“Do you think he is?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“Of course not, Little Doll,” Fane said, sitting up and sweeping his feet to the floor. He jumped up and hurried to envelop me in a hug. “Costel Westminster may be many things, but a murderer isn’t one of them. He hasn’t got it in him.”

I shrugged. “I guess,” I agreed. “It’s neither here nor there at this point. ”

“At any rate, he told us that the only good thing that did come of it was that was how he met our mother. And at her insistence, they laid the bones to rest and now she expects the whole sordid thing to just be forgotten.”

“I guess that’s for the best. Shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Fane smirked. “Not for us, maybe. Father, on the other hand, seems utterly destroyed. I suspect that somewhere deep down, he always thought she’d come back one day.”

I smiled darkly. “Well, now she has, hasn’t she?”

“Little Doll! Rather a wicked thing to say, isn’t it?”

I shrugged again. “How is Draven? Has he asked about me?”

Fane rolled his eyes. Our brother Draven was the sweetest, gentlest, kindest man the gods had ever made. For the life of me, I could never understand Fane’s disdain for him. “Of course, he has asked about you almost incessantly. We’re going to have to arrange a visit with you two so that we can shut him up.”

I slapped Fane’s arm playfully. “Fane, be nice.”

By the nighttime, the rain had cleared. Fane didn’t seem to be about, so Astrid and I meandered out to the garden by ourselves. Everything was luscious and green, still glistening with dew from the gloomy day.

Astrid stood by the trickling fountain tossing coins in and gazing up at the moon. I wondered what a little girl of nearly a thousand years would wish for. I draped lazily on a stone bench with my hair and skirt flowing off the side and dusting the ground. I held up a worn paper booklet from the Mysteries of London penny dreadful series, but all the words inside ran together. I sighed and let my arm fall and the book fluttered to the ground.

“Astrid? What would happen if we went into the sun?”

Astrid stopped and turned to me, giving me her odd stoic look. “We burn to death and die.”

I sat up on the stone bench. “If even for just a second? If the sunlight graces my skin for just one second, I’m cursed to burn to death and die?”

“Not for just one second, I suppose,” she admitted. “But it would cause you pain like you could never even imagine. Your flesh would bubble and fry, you would scream for thirty days straight at least, and you would have an ugly disfigurement for all eternity.” She shrugged. “ Hardly seems worth it to me.” She peered back up at the moon once again. “I love the night.”

I sighed and my shoulders drooped as I laid back down on the bench. “I miss the sun,” I murmured.

Astrid walked to where I lay and gazed down at me. She reached down and caressed my cheek, but the touch of her tiny hand was stilted and unsure, as though she were merely mimicking showing affection without actually feeling it. “Could you take me somewhere to play again soon, ? It was so fun at the circus. I feel hungry again.” Despite the childlike nature of her words, her voice was filled with a somber tone, devoid of any warmth or emotion.

“Hello? Oh, pardon me!” came a voice before I had a chance to put Astrid off.

I lurched up from my seat and Astrid took my hand, squeezing it painfully.

A woman had walked up to the garden gate.

She wore a sophisticated wool hunter green suit with a waistcoat and high-necked blouse. Her shimmering red hair was piled high atop her head and gathered beneath a stylish hat of green that matched her dress. A spattering of freckles sprinkled her nose and rosy cheeks. Her eyes crinkled with her wide, vibrant smile.

“Er, hello?” I replied, returning her friendly smile with a perplexed one. “Can we help you? ”

She stood right outside the gate, and we had crept toward it, but paused about three feet back. I slid my arm around Astrid’s shoulders. The beautiful woman continued to smile warmly. “My name is Ren Ripley,” she said, extending her hand through the black iron bars of the garden gate. I stared down at her gloved hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that I seem to have lost my way.”

In that fleeting moment, I hesitated, torn between her captivating eyes and the gesture of her outstretched hand. Ultimately, I resolved to cast aside my rudeness and shook it. I opened the gate and let her in.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Astrid asked suspiciously.

Ren giggled and pat Astrid on the head. I flinched, more than a little terrified that my small sister would rip her throat out. “It’s a bit embarrassing, really. I’m an amateur botanist and historian. I was exploring the local flora and some old sites, and I got so absorbed in my work that I didn’t realize how late it had become.”

“Botanist? What kind of plants are you studying?” I asked, my interest piqued by this unusual woman with her green dress and her red hair out here under the moon.

“Mostly nocturnal species. They have such fascinating properties. And the history of this area is rich, too. I saw the lights from your house and hoped someone might help me find my way back to the main road.”

“Hi. Do you have any interesting plants with you?” Astrid asked.

Ren Ripley reached into the pocket of her jacket and produced a few leaves and twigs. She presented a branch to Astrid covered in small blackish red leaves. “This is called Summer Wine Black Ninebark. This plant can help heal burns and illnesses of the lungs. And,” she said conspiratorially, “if it’s made into tea, it can help ladies have babies!”

Astrid cracked the tiniest of smiles and I giggled.

“And this one,” she said, displaying a leaf that looked like the tentacle of an octopus, “is a Mangave Black Widow. Its leaves store the energy of the sun and carry it to you in the night.”

I gasped, and Ren’s eyes darted to mine. “May I?” I asked, delicately reaching for the Mangave leaf.

Her hand drifted across the divide between us and offered me the leaf. “Of course!”

I took the tendril and held it to my face, hoping to feel the warmth of the sun from it. Of course I did not, but when I opened my eyes, I felt the warmth of Ren’s eyes on me. “Please,” she said. “Keep it. A gift to remember me by.”

Her sweet innocent smile brought me back to memories of afternoons with friends. Horseback riding, reading in the sun beneath a tree, swimming, going to the theater in the city. Looking into Ren’s lovely eyes made me realize those days were over. My friends were gone from my life like ghosts. My plans and my wishes evaporated.

I was so lonely.

“Let us help you find your way, and then… Would it be strange if I invited you to join our family here at Blackmoth House for dinner on the morrow?” I asked her earnestly.

Ren gasped and gave a little clap of her hands. “That would be simply marvelous,” she glowed. “As a traveler, I daresay it’s been ages since I’ve had a decent meal, how lovely of you to invite me!”

We ambled up the long curving driveway of Blackmoth House and I showed her out onto the road. I had already offered to summon a carriage to take her where she needed to go, in fear of her getting lost again. She insisted that wasn’t necessary; that her lodging was nearby. Then I offered to walk her the rest of the way, but again she declined.

“That’s so lovely of you, darling,” Ren said. “But it’s late. I’m sure you want to get little Astrid here to bed. And you shouldn’t be walking around the countryside at night. I am only doing it myself by accident! I can go the rest of the way alone.”

“Well, if you insist,” I replied with worry.

“I do, dear. I do insist. But what time shall I see you on the morrow?”

“How about seven P.M.?” I asked. I didn’t know how I would manage dinner with the family at that hour, when sunlight might still be in the sky. But I knew Fane would arrange it for me.

“Seven P.M. it is!” Ren agreed happily. She reached out and rubbed my arm. “It was lovely to meet you, . I’ll be seeing you soon.” She gave me a wink and turned and strode quickly away. She hurried off into the gathering fog down the road and soon she had all but disappeared into the nighttime dismals.

“! Where have you been?” my brother Draven cried. He swept me into his arms and pulled me against him in a warm, tight hug. My arms slid around him easily, glad to hug him back.

“I’ve just been here, brother. As always!” I said cheerfully, taking a deep breath of his scent. He always smelled like rosewood and sunshine. How I had missed him.

“I feel like I never see you anymore,” he said softly, his breath moving wisps of hair against my face.

When he released me, I stood back and held him at arm’s length so I could look at him. He towered over me, even taller than Fane. He was also bigger and more muscular. Also unlike Fane, his face was tan and healthy looking and although he wore his hair long like our brother, he was blonde like our mother. His smile, as always, was wide and silly, reminding me of a happy, sloppy golden dog. But, despite the silliness of it, it was also devastatingly handsome in the purest of ways. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief always.

I had missed him, too.

He made a big show of escorting me to my seat at the table as though I were a visiting queen. Fane was already seated at the table, and I noticed him rolling his eyes and bestowing the same glower that he always gave to Draven. I laughed as I took my seat and made just as big a deal out of thanking the kind gentleman.

The main Blackmoth House dining room had no windows, so it wasn’t too difficult for Fane to arrange a dinner there in honor of my new friend. My father seemed happy to hear I’d made a new friend. Mother was cross and suspicious. Cleo took her seat at the head of the table opposite Costel and observed us all quietly.

7 P.M. came and went, with no one coming to call.

At 7:30, I began to squirm in my seat. Fane watched me with a look of mild confusion.

At 8 P.M. Mother insisted we eat.

By 9 P.M. the members of our family besides Fane and I had all drifted away from the table and Ren never showed up.

He walked behind me and slid out my chair, taking my hand in his. Together we roamed the windowless corridors until we could be absolutely certain that all remaining glimmers of sun were absent from the sky and then we ambled out to the garden. As soon as I stepped out into the moonlight beneath the roses, I fingered the leaf in my pocket which Ren had given me and I began to cry.

“Oh, Little Doll,” Fane said, sweeping me into his arms. I fell into him and sobbed bitterly for a brief moment. He took my hand once again and led me to the bench by the fountain. The self-same place I’d been languishing when I first heard the voice of Ren Ripley the night before. It seemed like so very long ago.

“Why does it matter to you, so?” he asked as we took a seat side by side.

I tipped my head and rested it on his shoulder. “I don’t know,” I said, breathing a ragged sigh. “I suppose it doesn’t. I’m just so… Lonely.”

“, I’m so sorry!”