A silent conversation.A shadowed understanding that curdled the air between them.
“Very well, my lord,” Mr.Pemberton said, bowing slightly.His voice was measured, his posture obedient.
But his eyes?—
His eyes never met mine.
I tightened my grip on the handle of my teacup, feeling its delicate edge dig into my palm—a small reminder that beneath the opulence, this place was nothing more than a gilded prison.And I, its unwilling captive, shrouded in the suffocating weight of what was to come.
An oppressive sense of impending doom clung to the air, thick and unshakable, draping over me like a funeral shroud within the decaying grandeur of Lord Winston’s estate.My gaze flicked to Mary.In her eyes, I found my horror reflected.
“We’ll look around, then leave,” she murmured behind Mr.Pemberton’s broad back, her voice barely more than a breath.“We don’t want to anger Lord Winston.”
“His home is a nightmare,” I whispered, each word raw and tight in my throat.“Gloomy.Musty.Death lingers in the walls.”I glanced at the faded tapestries, the crumbling edges of what had once been luxury.The air itself felt thick with the weight of unseen specters.
“It feels like ghosts are everywhere,” Mary agreed, unease threading through her words.
“Let’s talk a walk in the gardens.Surely, it is better than the house,” I suggested, pulling Mary with me to the terrace.I needed to escape.
And then—his voice, still ringing in my ears.Lord Winston’s coarse, dreadful words.Words I couldn’t bring myself to repeat.
I shut my eyes, drawing in a breath, feeling the sun on my skin, and for a fleeting moment, I thought of Lord Hassan.His warmth.His vibrance.A stark contrast to this tomb of a house.When I married, I longed for love, passion, and desire—a younger man who would set my soul alight—someone like Lord Hassan.A wistful sigh slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
“Lady Alexander.Miss Mary.”
Mr.Pemberton’s voice cut through my thoughts, his tone brooking no argument.
“I must ask you, Miss Mary, to accompany me inside.His lordship insists.”
Mary stiffened beside me.“Surely, I cannot leave Lady Alexander alone,” she protested, her voice firm despite the worry creasing her brow.
“Lord Winston’s orders are quite clear,” Mr.Pemberton said, his expression as impassive as the stone statues standing sentinel over the withering gardens.
Mary cast me a troubled look, hesitation flickering in her eyes before resignation settled over her features.She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered, “I’ll be back in five minutes.I promise.”
And with that reluctant assurance, she turned and followed Mr.Pemberton, vanishing into the dim maw of the house.
Left alone in the thorny embrace of the neglected gardens, I inhaled the heavy air, thick with decay, laced with the scent of rot and wilted blooms.Once vibrant, the roses drooped under the weight of neglect, their petals falling like silent eulogies to a long-forgotten past.
With each step through the overgrown garden, prickly brambles snagged at my skirts as if trying to ensnare me, to tether me to this place of slow, creeping ruin.The gnarled branches stretched toward me, skeletal fingers grasping at the empty air, their brittle thorns whispering of misery.
And then?—
A sound.
A scream.
Not the distant echo of wind through broken windows, nor the rustle of leaves, but something raw.Agonized.Human.
The cries sliced through the quiet, sudden and precise, shattering the hush settling over the garden.My pulse lurched, a cold sweat gathering at the nape of my neck.The wretched wails did not fade.They did not cease.
Drawn by a force I could not name, I stepped forward, my feet moving before my mind could protest.
Tucked away beyond the overgrown hedges was a small, dilapidated outbuilding, its crumbling walls barely holding themselves upright.The door hung ajar, revealing only darkness beyond its splintered frame—but I knew he was in there, waiting.
A foul stench seeped from within—iron, sweat, fear.It coiled through the damp night air, thick and suffocating, clinging to my lungs with every shallow breath.
I should have turned away.
