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“The pleasure is mine, madam. I do appreciate the rush of frigid air, as it keeps my senses awake.” He cleared his throat. Suddenly, his whole face grimaced. She found herself looking at the downward turn of his mouth, heart thumping and anxious. “I must ask you about the unfortunate—”
Ethel returned; her hands flat against the front of her apron. “Yes, ma’am?”
Valerie gave a jump, pushed her seat in sudden panic, and laced her hands against the front of her dress like a servant. At first, she was shocked, and distinctly embarrassed. Her face sank down and she glanced away. Her throat was dry, and she could not swallow. The doctor remained silent, his hands between his knees, and Ethel’s mouth was pinched into a tight line. She sensed that they resented her—she felt certain of that. For a moment, annoyance flashed in their faces. This was not what Mrs. Vertigo was intended to do. She sat down abruptly, creaking the seat back into its position. They were waiting for an answer though, much to her dismay.
The color flooded her face. She crushed into humiliation and sizzling shame she had not felt since her uncle once kicked her out of the house.
“Will you bring us the tea tray?” she muttered. Ethel gave a quick nod and scurried away. Her boots clicked on the hardwood floor, out the door, and down the hall.
They drank their tea, for the most part, in silence. Then the doctor spoke slowly, thoughtfully.
“Mrs. Vertigo, that incident was a vile attack on your person. And I’m filled with remorse and regret for having arrived too late. I should not have failed you so gravely.”
“Sir, please do not blame yourself. The fault lies not with you. In fact, I ought to apologize. I should have been more vigilant, more aware of the dangers. I should have behaved in a more decorous manner. It does not help that I have a little sense of propriety, grace, and intelligence. It does not help that he does everything naturally, with such poise.”
The haste of her passion left her breathless, and she was on the verge of tears. How could she open her heart to a man she barely knew, her husband’s best friend? In spite of herself, she raised her eyes, looking straight at him. Patches of blushes came all over her face. The doctor was staring back at her, steady and sharp.
“You must not say that,” he said.
“Why? It’s true.”
“It was neither a failure of decorum nor determination. Mrs. Vertigo, I should say that your husband is a great man. Indeed, he’s too gallant and too generous, maybe even more than his father. I consider him kin, my brother. But he is, if I may be so bold, rather imprudent.” Valerie’s arms hung motionless at her side. He continued, his eyes drooped and his voice a whisper. She felt a quiver of fear.
He looked very agitated. She feared she had upset him, and the realization of this saddened her. She regretted confessing her insecurities to a stranger, and made an attempt to regain her composure. A soft smile lingered on her lips. “Let us not dwell on the past anymore. Instead, let us focus on the present and ensure that—”
Yet, the doctor was fervent with his beliefs. His shallow breaths clouded his look; it was the only motion visible on his body. His head was thrown a little back, the loss of the spark in his eyes making his firmness more evident. She had detected the heavy shadow of his dark hair. She was startled, most of all, by the latent fervor, which unfolded under his calloused, trembling hands like a torrid, hasty storm. “Our paths are veiled with shadows, madam. They leave marks upon our characters, but we must learn to walk with them.”
He occupied himself with the saucer for half a minute or so, offering his silence as an expression of gratitude, then stood up abruptly. She did not speak. She did not move. She wondered whether he knew why Mrs. Harker taunted them. Was he another actor in the town’s schemes? Or was it all a discreet and amiable gesture? She would never dare ask, of course. She caught one more glance at his face before he left the room.
3
Something was wrong. Valeriecould not put her finger on it, but a harrowing sense seeped into her brain. Maybe it was the gust of frigid wind whistling down the manor’s chimneys and slapping her cheeks, or the orange light of guttering candles in the distance. The air around her looked strange, like it was filled with ash. The smell of grease smoke and soot hung low and dense, which blotted out the entire town from view.
She dragged the heel of her palm over her nose and made towards the drawing room, silently closing the door behind her. Nothing stirred. She was alone. Meanwhile, the moon shone bright, dancing silver and serene on her face, casting a gentle glow upon her stiff features. The snow was fast approaching. Her fingers toyed with the emerald green stone of her ring, while her mind wandered, a sense of unease lingering in the air. She thought of all the things Ethan and the doctor had said and how much easier it would be if she knew the truth. If her husband, as Mrs. Harker and all the livid townspeople had made him out to be, was at the mercy of a curse, why did he marry her and drag her into this? If that was the case, didn’t she have a right to know the truth? To demand answers?
Valerie’s head was spinning. No, that wasn’t fair. If it weren’t for the doctor and her husband, she wouldn’t have escaped the wrath of the crowd that day. She saw herself, gasping for breath and a pang of terror going through her chest, and the frozen look on her attackers’ faces, stricken down by despair and white-hot anger. With gnarled and bony hands, they had hooked their accusations onto her and Ethan. They were vile, ungrateful traitors, loyal only to themselves. In spite of his charity, they had attacked her husband. No, she should not take heed of their abomination, or wail at the sight of them, for their betrayal was a whisper in the breeze. Always changing, ever shifting with the weight of their corruption. She should ensure they did proper penance and forgive this lapse. She was the mistress of Vertigo Peaks. If there’s only one person who could do it, it was her. Then there would be tears no more. Only happiness.
As she sat there, growing weary of contemplating, a nagging pain in the small of her back, Valerie noticed the muted voices drifting in from the adjoining study. Curiosity piqued, she rose from her seat and approached the door. It stood ajar, and through the crack, Valerie could make out a dark figure—the silhouette of her husband. He did not suspect she was in the drawing room. He did not even bother to close the door.
As she approached, the voices became clearer, revealing familiar tones. One belonged to Ethan, low and urgent, while the other was too hushed to distinguish. Valerie’s heart skipped a beat. Who was this man? What were they discussing so clandestinely?
With caution, she pressed her ear against the door and strained to catch their words. The first few fragments were indecipherable, mere murmurs of hurried conversation. But then, a sentence floated through the air, catching Valerie’s attention and freezing her in place.
“They must cheer for me,” Ethan was saying. “I need them to welcome me with open arms when I next visit the town.” His voice came through, tinged with desperation and a hunger for validation, which troubled Valerie deeply. “I need the townspeople to truly believe I am still a man of influence and importance.”
The study was dimly lit by candles attached to each shelf so that it only made books visible. The thick smoke of cigars and the musty scent of books watered her eyes, but Valerie did not move. There, huddled by the desk, stood the taller figure. She noticed the body stiffen as her husband’s words sank in.If only he would move closer to the light, she thought. His face was buried too deep in the shadows.
“And how do you propose we achieve such a feat?” the tall figure whispered. Her husband regarded the other man with a sly expression.
“You know, my dear friend, that you hold a certain position in our little town. As the local physician, your words carry weight. I need you to use that influence to ensure that the people cheer for me when I make my grand entrance.”
“Bribery, Ethan? Is that the path you wish to take?”
The man came out, rather defiantly, and Valerie saw the doctor’s face, his trembling lip, and the set of his jaw clenched.
“Yes, bribery, if necessary,” replied her husband. “A few coins to help them forget their inhuman animosity and instead focus on what I brought to this town, the hardships I endured on their behalf, the calamities weighed upon me for their sake. So it is not too unreasonable of me to ask their loyalty, is it, doctor?”
Ethan did not take notice of his friend’s silence. He continued, quivering with excitement. His eyes fixed on the ceiling in anticipation, as if waiting for a sign of approval. “Doctor, I trust you can discreetly organize this. Ensure the people are properly compensated. I want this done before my next visit. Before I take Mrs. Vertigo to town again.”
