The Secrets of Roan Island

5. Ruby

5

Ruby

I wake to the sharp snap of curtain rings scratching against metal and the harsh light of late afternoon. A backlit shadow stands in the center of the window, and I blink, squinting, as I try to make it out.

When my eyes adjust, I recognize Mrs. Darning. She’s looking out over the grounds, her hands clasped behind her back. The woman glances over her shoulder, then turns. “Your presence is requested in the drawing room on the first floor.” She gives me an appraising look. “As with last night, you will be required to dress appropriately for the prestige of the house. I’ve selected suitable attire.” Her long fingers lift to indicate a sepia gown draped from a hanger balancing on the tip of the open armoire door. It looks like a ghost.

I yawn and stretch, trying to remember the details of the night before. Noah’s intense gaze is the only part of the evening I can solidly recall. My nipples pearl at the memory, all too obvious through my thin shift. I pull the covers higher over my chest.

Mrs. Darning narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. “You best hurry. The Roans don’t like to be kept waiting.”

I remain where I am, expecting the woman to leave, but instead she takes hold of the covers and yanks them down the bed. “Come on, girl. There’s no lady’s maid. I’m all you’ve got, and you’ll need help with the buttons. I’ve let you sleep long enough.”

“Forgive me.” I straighten my nightwear and swing my feet down to the plush black and gold rug. “I never oversleep like this. I guess the wine was stronger than I’m used to.”

The woman caws a laugh, one piercing syllable as she crosses the room. “I’m no fool, Miss Rose. Why are you really here?”

Taken aback by the bite in Mrs. Darning’s tone, I tilt my head, studying her with a new consideration. “Mr. Roan invited me.”

Mrs. Darning’s thin eyebrows lift.

“And to secure a donation for my research.”

It’s clear this woman is loyal to the family and influential in the household. Perhaps she can champion my case and appeal to Hammish Roan on my behalf. This grant will not only save my position and my work, it will help countless women. But I’ll need to win her over first. “Have you ever been to Essik College, Mrs. Darning?”

I slip into the bloomers laid out on the chaise at the end of the bed, then don the chemise.

Mrs. Darning unties the bustle. “Can’t say I have.” Then with a tight grip, she turns me and fastens the bustle around my waist. “Put on the petticoat.”

I do as directed, chattering about my job at the college as Mrs. Darning opens the buttons that trail from the high neck to the bustle. When she’s finished, she helps me into the dress, the soft fabric sliding deliciously over my skin. It’s nicer than the dresses I typically wear, made of a smooth, glossy satin.

While Mrs. Darning fastens the covered buttons up my back, I continue talking casually of the classes I teach and my friends. By the time I’m ready—my hair even piled and pinned into a style that has left beautiful tendrils draped around my neck—I’m hopeful that Mrs. Darning will prove to be an ally to my cause. I can only test it by digging a little.

“Has Hammish Roan ever given a donation to Essik College before? I know he’s been generous with The Essik Sanitorium, but it might be helpful to know what sort of projects appeal to him.”

“He gives to those he deems fit.” Mrs. Darning straightens my bustle.

“Do many people come here to appeal to him as I have? The man who brought me out to the island made it seem like he never brought people this way. And the grounds”–I let out a little laugh– “I thought the place was deserted.”

“How long do you plan to stay, Professor?” Her words are precise, practiced. The hairs on my neck stand on end, an intuitive warning.

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply carefully. It’s clear she doesn’t want my visit to last long, but I’m not sure why. “Mr. Roan invited me to stay through the Solstice holiday.” I step forward and turn to look at her, recognizing she avoided my original question. “How often do you have guests on the island?”

The woman’s expression stays pointedly neutral. “Mr. Roan likes to entertain occasionally.”

“I’m sure those are quite the events.” I force a little levity into my voice. “The dinner I had last night was exquisite. Do they ever host guests for longer periods of time? They certainly have room for it.”

“Occasionally,” Mrs. Darning says with tight lips. She turns away, clutching her skirts a little too tightly in one hand while opening the door with the other. “Mr. Roan is waiting.”

My stomach drops, uncertain of which Mr. Roan she’s referring to. Each of the Roans elicits a different reaction in me, but all of them make me feel a little on edge. Especially Hammish Roan. I do need to talk with him about the grant, but I’m not sure I’m ready to face him while still feeling off kilter from the wine last night. All his cordial charm and subtle barbs remind me of David. But there’s something about Hammish Roan that feels even more dangerous than my ex-husband. David wounded me severely, small cuts that added up to gaping wounds over time, but Hammish seems like the kind of man who could rip flesh with a smile.

A sense of foreboding settles over me as I follow Mrs. Darning into the too-dark corridor and down the opulent staircase.