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“What happened to Seattle?” I ask.
“I have an early work meeting tomorrow morning, and the Wi-Fi at my aunt’s house is even worse than it is here. I figured I’d rather make the drive than putz around with an ancient router. Plus, I missed you.”
Joseph slings his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. I melt into his sturdy chest.
“I missed you, too,” I mumble.
Chapter 16
Joseph
WhenEleanorwakesupbeside me the next morning, she holds her body stiff as a board, clutching her stomach.
I try to distract her. I move her hair back and kiss the space between her neck and shoulders, ignoring the scratches that decorate her throat like a terrible necklace.
“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “You’re safe now.”
Although, I don’t know what would have happened last night if I hadn’t been there. What if I’d decided to stay in Seattle? Would Eleanor still be trapped up there?
“You don’t know that,” she whispers.
“What do you mean?”
“We never know what she’ll do next. Joseph, last night, I saw her. I saw her, and I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t sleepwalking. I was wide awake, and her hands were around my throat. She did it to you, too! She knows that the ladder is the only way out of the attic. And, oh God, Joseph. Last night, I-I-I found a letter she wrote to Martin before he died. It was a suicide note. She said she wanted his sons to know the sins of their father. Joseph, you’re—”
“Five or six times the great-grandson of an Edwardian womanizer? Eleanor, I know plenty about Martin’s indiscretions.”
“But Joseph, you don’t understand. Beatrix wanted Martin to pay for what he did. It’s not just a legend. We have written proof.”
The next day, my mother tsks when she sees Eleanor going downstairs. Eleanor has the morning off because we have another ultrasound this afternoon.
Despite Eleanor’s best efforts to relax this morning, she looks haggard. There are dark circles underneath her eyes. The scratches peek out beneath her turtleneck sweater. She jumps at the slightest noise, cradling her bump protectively.
“Whatever happened to you, darling? You look frightful.” Her suitcase is still waiting in the vestibule, but she rushes to Eleanor’s side.
Eleanor glances anxiously between myself and my mother before she says, “Beatrix.”
My mother’s face falls. “Oh dear, why don’t I get a kettle started, and you can tell me what happened?”
Eleanor nods mutely and follows Iphigenia into the kitchen.
My mother puts the kettle on and wordlessly hands each of us a muffin.
“I’m fine,” I grunt.
My mother rolls her eyes. “You both need breakfast, and you both look like shit. Now, tell me what happened.”
I balk. My mother never swears.
“She attacked me. She wants the babies.”
My mother pours each of us a steaming mug of tea.
“I tried to level with her, and she fucking trapped me in an attic. She’s impossible.”
“She was terrible during my pregnancy. The house was freezing. I was sick constantly, and I had the most peculiar craving for steaks so pink they were bloody.”
Eleanor shoots her a look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
