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Because patients don’t live that long, Valerie thought with a shudder.
Ethel led the way in silence. Valerie staggered to the door, the doctor’s strained breath on her back, only to find a whimpering woman, cloaked in burgundy. The flurry of snow blurred the tall figure. Valerie put her arms around herself and retreated a few steps back. The road to the town was hidden from view and the wind was beating against the stone walls of Vertigo Peaks. An impassable wasteland, yet someone dared to brave it. All she saw was the fluttering cape like a rose bloomed too soon. First, the gleam in the woman’s eyes shot forward, then emerged her stricken face.
“Mrs. Vertigo,” she stammered. “Please, help me.”
For a moment, a jolt of recognition and excitement coursed through her veins. Valerie would recognize the voice even if she were half the world away, its cadence engraved in her mind without a reason or deliberation. She did not understand how it happened or why, but when she called her name, a familiar, sweet ache already claimed a place in her heart.
“Miss Karnstein,” she gasped.
11
“Good heavens! What areyou doing out in this weather?” Valerie mumbled, then quickly added, “Please come in.” The heavy oak door creaked open, and Miss Karnstein entered, hair wild, eyes full of tears, snowflakes at the tip of her lashes. “My carriage broke down and I haven’t heard from the coachman ever since. I—” She drew in a shaky breath and Valerie suspected she was about to burst into tears, but she composed herself. A wistful expression flickered across her face, one mingled with apprehension. The faint pallor of her cheeks twisted Valerie’s stomach as she said, “I cannot go home. All the roads are blocked. I really have no place to go.”
Seeing Valerie and Ethel completely still, the doctor stepped forward and offered his hand to Miss Karnstein and rammed the door shut. “Come in, miss. You’ll freeze out here. Ethel, bring something warm to drink.”
Ethel raised both her eyebrows to her hairline, her eyes darting from the doctor to Valerie, as he ushered them to the drawing room. Valerie was truly dumbfounded, continuing to stare at this unexpected guest as her skirts swept the hall and the glow of candles flickered on her face. The doctor led her towards the fire, yet she did not seem to shiver. Valerie could see the purple hue on her nails, her chapped lips, but her chest rose and fell in regular intervals. “Just caught the tail end of that blizzard, let’s hope,” the doctor said, his voice a welcome intrusion to the crackling fire and swirling snow.
Ethel returned, bearing warm towels and a steaming mug of spiced tea. Miss Karnstein accepted it with a grateful smile. As she sipped, Valerie watched her, taking in the details: the way her eyes narrowed when she raised the cup to her lips, the sparks that danced in her gaze, the familiar astonishment. She realized Miss Karnstein did not want to be here. It was the same grievous expression Valerie wore ever since her wedding night, the same stiffness betraying the calm air that hung around her. Something in her stomach clenched.
If there was one thing she had learned from her uncle’s wrath, it was survival. It did not take long for her as a child to learn that she had to mix herself in the patterns of her uncle who took away her supper because she failed to complete her chores, made her spend hours outside until the sun went down because she did not wake up before dawn. Want to deserve a hot bowl of soup? Do whatever the uncle says. Is it better to try to warm your fingers under the cold blanket instead of spending the night in the barn? Then don’t go against his word. Therefore, she quickly made a habit of staying out of her husband’s business and did what she was told when she got married.
Similarly, it did not take long to realize that this would not save her from animosity or violence. She had to adapt, morph herself once more, in order to survive. She cut out some of the parts that made people frown, bit the tip of her tongue that made her husband rasp. Granted, she did not do a great job, but Ethan was not a man of many desires. He burned with a single desire: to keep this barren town in line. In these trying times, having Miss Karnstein on his side would greatly benefit him. And her. Especially after the dinner party fiasco.
“Let me have a look, miss,” the doctor said. Miss Karnstein allowed him to take her pulse, check her temperature. Valerie’s fingers tightened around her ring. The doctor stepped back. “No fever, madam,” he finally said with cloudy eyes, his forehead creased in thought, pointing at Miss Karnstein. “Pulse is abnormally irregular. Just the shock, I suspect. A warm fire, a good night’s sleep, and Ethel’s chick soup tomorrow should suffice. You’ll be right as rain.”
“You are most welcome to stay,” Valerie said. She sounded like it was hard to find the right words. “This weather is not fit for travel.”
Miss Karnstein hesitated, and a nervousness washed over her face. “I wouldn’t want to impose, Mrs. Vertigo,” she replied, raising the cup to her lips again.
Valerie smiled. A thrill rushed through her body. She did not know the loneliness in her was thus enormous, rendering her this vulnerable and eager. “Nonsense. Think of it as reprieve from the snow, a chance to rest and gather your bearings. We have plenty of room in Vertigo Peaks.”
The truth was, Valerie craved her company. Not just for the entertainment of a new face, but for the glimpse Miss Karnstein offered into what Valerie thought long dead within her.
“Besides,” she added, her voice tinged with mischief and laughter, “who knows when the roads will be passable again? You are stuck here, at my mercy, as it were.”
Miss Karnstein’s lips curled into a beaming smile and Valerie saw there was a hint of amusement, perhaps even affection, written on her face. “Then I guess I have no choice but to accept your offer, my lady,” she replied.
In the most unexpected way, she was glad to admit that it was relief melting her fears, hearing Miss Karnstein’s warm voice. For the first time in months, she felt alive, not just with, but with the promise of something new. As Valerie led her upstairs, her hand brushing hers on the banister, a strange sense of calm settled within her. Miss Karnstein’s name hung between her lips, unspoken yet sweet, stirring something dormant within her.
12
Miss Karnstein’s chamber wasa cozy one, located in the same wing as her own. She had chosen this room because it was relatively fair and decent compared to the ones on the other wing; its windows overlooked the edge of the forest, and Miss Karnstein could easily send word if anything was disagreeable or troublesome. Yet, here, in this secluded part of the manor-house, even the air reeked of forgotten things—a blend of dust, damp parchments, and a faint undercurrent of something oily that clung the back of Valerie’s throat like cobwebs.
Linen sheets, once pristine and starched, now coiled in a tangled heap atop a cot. The candlelight, if it could be called such, dared not venture far past the threshold, which left them in the dark for several minutes before Ethel aired the room and placed new candles in an iron candelabrum, casting long shadows across the scene. Each flicker danced across the grimy walls, conjuring monstrous shapes from the damp and peeling wallpaper. There was a chilly, musty smell when they entered. The cramped bookshelves were full of old books, their warped spines and leather bindings bulging with arcane symbols that Valerie had never seen before.
She was filled with sudden dread and shame, for this was not a room fit for a guest, yet Valerie was not sure whether other rooms would be in better condition. She turned and hid the blush on her cheeks in the candlelight, speaking in a flat tone.
“My apologies for the state of the room. We were not really expecting a guest.”
“Nonsense. It’s much better than spending the night in the snow and risking freezing to death.”
Valerie watched her guest with keen eyes. The initial stiffness gone, Miss Karnstein resembled when she met her at the dinner party. Valerie could see her clearly now. She moved with the trained elasticity of a young woman; the softness in her voice and the lightness of her step strangely reminded Valerie of herself. Nevertheless, in some moments—the nature of which was always fleeting and elusive—Valerie thought she held herself back. Her eyes remained guarded, her words constrained, and Valerie found herself wanting to probe the reaches of her mind, lay it bare and strip its secretive nature for reflection.
“Tell me, Miss Karnstein, how did you manage to escape the blizzard unscathed? Not many souls brave the storm on foot.”
Miss Karnstein did not look away, but the ghost of a smile played at her lips. “I did not have to walk very far, Mrs. Vertigo. I don’t think I would have made it to your house if that was the case. A bit of wilderness wisdom sufficed.”
“Ah, I see. Tell me where does your family hail from? I’m afraid we skipped a formal introduction because of my…” Valerie’s voice trailed off.
