Aoife opened her mouth, but Mrs Harrow gently steered her down the corridor with a small tilt of her head.
“Go on now. Get to your room before anyone else sees you dripping on the floor.”
Aoife hesitated. “Why are you helping me?”
Mrs Harrow regarded her for a long moment, a decision forming behind the woman’s eyes.
“I think you could be good for him, for us, this house. I won’t ruin it because of one moment’s foolishness.”
Aoife wasn’t sure what to make of her answer.
***
The storm did not calm that night so much as sink deeper into the walls of the house. Rain hammered the shutters. The wind clawed at them like fingers. Aoife drifted uneasily in and out of sleep, blankets pulled to her chin.
Close by, a scream tore through the night.
For a heartbeat, she froze.
It wasn’t a banshee.
It was a man.
Aoife threw the covers off and pulled on her nightgown. The stone floor was icy beneath her bare feet as she hurried into the corridor, following the sound. Shadows flickered with each flash of lightning, her own shape jittering along the walls.
The cries led her to Halverton’s door.
She stopped.
Her hand hovered over the doorknob.
Should she go in?
Would he want her to? Or would he twist her concern into something she hadn’t meant?
The screaming intensified, stuttered, and became muffled as though trapped behind fabric.
Aoife’s fingers curled around the cold brass handle.
Before she could turn it, footsteps came fast down the corridor.
Alton rounded the corner at a near-run, coat half-buttoned in haste. Mrs Harrow followed, her expression tight but controlled.
Aoife took a step back automatically.
Alton didn’t even pause. He slipped past her and into the room, closing the door behind him.
Mrs Harrow placed a steadying hand on Aoife’s arm. “Don’t fret, miss.”
“What’s wrong?” Aoife whispered. “Is he hurt? I can help—if he’s hurt, I can—”
“It’s nothing of the sort,” Mrs Harrow said gently. “Only nightmares. They pass.”
Aoife swallowed. “He sounded—”
“Nightmares,” Mrs Harrow repeated, firmer now. “They aren’t your concern. Back to bed, miss.”
Aoife hesitated. Halverton’s hoarse, muffled, broken cry carried through the cracked door.
