The seven o’clock dinner hour was fast approaching. Lilly hadn’t changed her dress, but she had unpacked her trunk. For the last half hour she’d been sitting in her new bedroom in front of the vanity mirror, wondering why she’d been so stupid. Taking this position was most assuredly the worst mistake of her life. She should have held out for another. She’d put out enough applications in town. She and Julie could get by for another month or so if they were careful, and if Jason’s creditors didn’t keep hounding them. She could beg the landlord for another month’s leeway, surely. She’d twisted and styled her long blond tresses as eloquently as she knew how. She wasn’t pretty, not by the standards of the day anyway, but she’d been told many times she was. She didn’t want to be pretty, not here—especially not here. Her cheekbones were high and her lips full. Her skin was clear and pale. Deep blue eyes stared back at her, reminding her once more that she wasn’t nearly sophisticated enough, let alone brave enough. She shoved her round, wire glasses onto the bridge of her nose. There was nothing wrong with her vision. The glasses were merely a crutch to hide behind, and they helped her look the part she was there to play. She wanted very badly to run away, down the drive, through the forest, all the way back to the haven of her sister’s townhouse. She didn’t want to look upon the warped, grotesque form of Gabriel Drayton. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to have anything to do with someone who repeatedly committed violent criminal acts, but who, due to precarious, extenuating circumstances, or failure of the justice system overall, had never been prosecuted as he deserved. Yet she couldn’t help thinking again of the little girl, Charlotte. Lilly’s own childhood had left much to be desired. Her father had died when she and Julie were very young. Their mother had raised them as well as she could by taking in washing and sewing, but they always struggled financially and never had much. Regardless of these difficulties, her mother was a gentle soul, supportive and kind to her daughters. One thing Lilly had never lacked as a girl was love. How awful for any child to have him for a father, if he even was her father. All the money in the world could never make up for what poor Charlotte was subjected to daily. Alex told her Charlotte tended to be shy at first. Lilly guessed Charlotte’s timidity wasn’t her natural demeanor. Rather it was caused by her predicament. Charlotte was starved for affection of any kind. Putting her own monetary troubles aside, Lilly wanted to help Charlotte. Her fear of him needed to be secondary. As a Christian it was her duty to aid the oppressed and show love where none existed. She would not only teach Charlotte to read and write, but give her the warmth and comfort of human companionship—something the child had never known. Softly Lilly repeated the Bible verse that had helped her through difficulties in the past. It gave her courage then and it would do so now: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” At precisely six fifty, she rose from the vanity stool, wishing as she did that she wasn’t so petite. Five feet three inches wasn’t much to stand up to a man who could, with one hand, haul a teenage boy up and into such a high carriage. Apprehension made her stomach quiver. And then she raised her chin a notch. As she stepped into the dark, crimson corridor, it suddenly dawned on her that in the last two hours she hadn’t heard a voice, a footstep or even the creak of a door. Quietly she passed his room and continued on until the carpet ended. The loud clack of her heels on the slate floor echoed. Taking her time she started down the staircase, treading as lightly as she could. She was about halfway when the front door was flung wide. It startled her so badly she had to clutch the railing to keep from tripping. A round, balding man carrying a long, thin torch barreled in. The door slammed closed behind him with a loud thunk. “Oh, excuse me, miss,” he said, bowing stiffly. “I completely lost track of time!” And then he ran about lighting the wall lamps throughout the hall. Lilly didn’t move until he started up the staircase. “Beg pardon, miss.” He bustled around her. “Ya must be Miss Hawthorne. Welcome ta Drayton Hall. I’m Finch. Excuse me, but ’tis important for me ta git this done. I’m late. Late again!” “I understand,” she said. Her eyes followed him as he scurried up the remaining stairs and disappeared into the red corridor. Only then did Lilly continue on to the dining room. Tentatively she touched one of the heavy iron latches and pushed. The room, like the entrance hall, was dark and dreary. With the exception of a dining table large enough to seat thirty or more, it was void of furnishings. Three place settings had already been set at the head of the table nearest the entrance. Not quite sure what she should do, she traversed the room to one of four narrow windows, where she could see the forest and the long drive. The sound of someone running down the stairs jerked her around. A second later Mr. Finch skittered in. With a nod to her, he proceeded to light the lamps. At first Lilly was glad for the lighting. She thought it would provide warmth to the otherwise frigid atmosphere. But then, one by one, shadows began to emerge. “Me wife will be bringin’ out the courses in a jiffy. Mista Drayton and Miss Charlotte will be here soon,” Mr. Finch said. He bowed and scurried out. As promised, Mrs. Finch appeared shortly, arms laden with dishes, which she set between the three place settings. She seemed of an age with her husband and just as round, although she wasn’t nearly as fidgety. Her hair was white and piled on top of her head in a thick roll. She introduced herself nervously. Before departing, she added, “Mista Drayton will join ya shortly.” Lilly chose the chair that provided a clear view of the dining room entrance. On top of everything else, because he was a duke—she’d never met a duke before—Julie had warned her she’d better address him as Lord Drayton. She’d heard a few people in town refer to him that way, albeit in a derisive, derogatory way. She’d practiced a few times, but felt foolish saying it. She was certain she would somehow flub it, and the repercussions would be… she didn’t want to think about what the repercussions would be. It was relieving to have heard both Mr. and Mrs. Finch refer to him simply as Mister Drayton. The fare Mrs. Finch brought looked as good as it smelled and reminded her she’d had nothing to eat since breakfast. As much as she dreaded the upcoming encounter, her hunger made her wish Mr. Drayton and Charlotte would arrive. Better to get the inevitable over with. She’d been sitting there, restlessly wringing her hands for more than ten minutes—so much for punctuality—when she heard the distant creak of a door hinge. She couldn’t see from where she sat, but she could hear clearly. …CLACK, click, TAP, click, SCCCRRRAAAPE, click... The slow, uneven sounds grew louder as they crossed the slate floor. She was able to discern that the light clicks interspersed between the heavier treads were the footsteps of a child. …SCCCCRRAAA… click… AAAPE, click… Lilly jumped when a deep voice growled, “Go, Charlotte!” Whatever, if anything, Charlotte said in reply Lilly couldn’t hear. They were moving closer. Lilly rose and scuttled around until she was standing behind the chair. Her heart was in her throat. “I said go!” the voice grated. “You act like she’s going to bite you!” Lilly grabbed the back of the chair. This time she heard Charlotte’s reply very clearly, “Please don’t make me!” “Go!” he barked. “Pleeease! Daddyyy!” Click, click. Lilly took a step backwards. …CLACK, TAP, SCCCRRRAAAPE… TAP, tap, tap, TAP… They were just outside the door. “Damn it, Charlotte!” Lilly was sure a raised, twisted claw was inches away from clocking the little girl. Movement in the shadows made her freeze. She took another hasty step backwards and had to cover her mouth to withhold a scream. In the darkened opening, outlined by the flickering lamplight, was an apparition, something she could have conjured up after listening to Julie’s childhood ghost stories. He was huge, an imposing wall of slowly moving black. TAP! Her eyes darted to the floor. The tip of a polished black cane appeared beside a foot clad in a soled, black leather shoe. It was a casual shoe, the kind one might slip into in the evening. SCRRRAAPE. His left foot, in a matching shoe, dragged from behind him until it stopped even with the right one. Inch by inch her eyes traveled up two black-covered legs to an uncovered hand—a normal looking hand?—hanging limply, then across to the right one which was clasped firmly around the rounded end of the cane. Up the tall, black silhouette from there, her perusal met with a narrow black leather belt. Tucked in was a black silk shirt. He wasn’t wearing a vest or coat. The tiny black buttons on the shirt glittered in the lamplight. She followed the line of them upward… diagonally. His torso was bent, the left shoulder sloped crookedly down from the higher right side. A thin, black silk scarf was wrapped around his neck and tied, like an eighteenth-century cravat, with the ends neatly tucked into his collar. He had been looking at her. She was sure of it, but when she dared to glimpse his face, he wasn’t looking at her. His head was to the side and angled downward toward something outside the entrance. All Lilly saw of him was more silk-swathed black. He turned. Lilly’s fingers curled in until her fingernails bit into her skin. He had a face, but not a whole face! The top of his head was hidden underneath more black—a kerchief of some sort. Between the kerchief and the scarf around his neck was a silk cloth, rising to cover the entire left side from his jaw, upward along his nose and across his forehead. A small hole cut into the cloth allowed him to see with his left eye. Long black hair draped out from under the kerchief to veil his distorted right shoulder. The dim light didn’t hide the faint shadow of whiskers along his right jaw line, the hollow beneath a pronounced cheekbone, the dark pink of a grimly set mouth, which stood out starkly in contrast to his eerily pale skin. He had a firm, straight nose and deeply set grey eyes that were narrowed in a scowl so harsh it caused creases to form between his brows. In the same gravelly, clipped tone he’d used on Charlotte, he said, “Welcome to Drayton Hall. I am Gabriel Drayton. Charlotte will join you for dinner.” His words were civil enough, but the bite in them told her he didn’t mean them politely. Bit by bit, the terror-laden little girl appeared from behind him. To avoid looking at him, Lilly concentrated on the child. Her first impression was that Charlotte was beautiful. Her eyes were a deep brown, opened wide, and her top lip was turned in, bitten nervously between her teeth. Two thin strands of hair, the same dark color as his, had been pulled from her temples into a pink ribbon at the top of her head. She wore a pink dress, fringed with lace. White stockings covered her legs from her calves downward to black, patent leather shoes. The expensive clothes were well made and fit her perfectly. “Excuse me,” Gabriel Drayton snapped. He moved, shifting his weight on the cane, making his body appear even more hunched. Even so, somehow in that moment, Lilly’s trepidation, although still present, was suddenly and oddly stirred. He wasn’t big at all. Tall, yes, but not big. If anything, he was actually quite slender. He was also younger than she’d thought he would be. Briefly, she caught his eye and was surprised when his diverted first. But, the hasty look-away wasn’t shyness, she realized belatedly. His attention had been drawn by Charlotte. “Noooo, Daddy! Don’t go!” the child was staring up at him beseechingly. “Charlotte!” Bristling from the harsh tone he used on the little girl, Lilly regarded him again. It wasn’t quite as daunting with his focus elsewhere. He was still looking at Charlotte. He didn’t say another word. Slowly, reluctantly, Charlotte turned around. Lilly took a deep breath and forced a smile for Charlotte’s sake. “I promise I won’t bite,” she said as gently as she could. …TAP, SCCCRRRAAAPE... Lilly’s focus flew to the doorway, but it was empty. The dark phantom was gone.
