But it was coming from inside the house. Somewhere along these very halls. That realization had the hairs at her nape prickling.
Olivia raced across the room and tore open the door. The sound was louder now, a long thin wail that went on and on until she was forced to cover her ears.
Without giving thought to what she was doing, she scurried along the hall until she came to the door of the man she had seen huddled in a chair.
The door was open, and Olivia could see Lord Stamford and a woman, her nightclothes in disarray, standing on either side of a bed. At the foot of the bed was a young, red-haired servant.
Lord Stamford bent down and gathered the blanketed figure of his brother in his arms while the woman held a cup to his lips.
“Do as Mistress Thornton bids you, Bennett.” The voice coming from Lord Stamford’s mouth was unlike the one Olivia had heard earlier. Gone was the haughty tone of arrogance. Now the words were soft, soothing, as a mother might croon to her infant.
The wailing abruptly ceased. The cup was drained. And then there was only a childlike sobbing that went on for several more minutes before silence prevailed.
“He will sleep now, m’lord,” the woman said.
“Thank you, Mistress Thornton.” Quenton looked to the foot of the bed. “And thank you, Minerva. I’m grateful that you got to him so quickly.”
“You’re welcome, my lord.” The young servant smoothed the covers. “Have no fear. I’ll stay with him now and see that he sleeps.”
As Quenton turned away, he caught sight of Olivia standing in the open doorway. Without a word he crossed the space between them and swept her roughly into the hallway, pulling the door shut after him.
“Forgive me, Lord Stamford. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“But that is exactly what you were doing.”
“I... heard the scream and had to investigate. I didn’t know what I was hearing. I thought...” She bit her lip, unwilling to finish what she’d been about to say.
“It does take some time to get used to, Miss St. John.” With his hand beneath her elbow he steered her along the hall toward her room. He seemed in a great hurry to be done with her. “My brother is very ill. He is haunted by old memories. Memories that manifest themselves in the night and cause him great anguish.”
“Can nothing be done for him?”
Quenton shook his head. “The physicians who have examined him have assured me that they know of nothing that can help him.”
She paused outside her doorway and for the first time looked up into his dark eyes. There was such pain there. Such misery. It touched her heart. “I’m sorry, Lord Stamford.”
She could see the flicker of annoyance. It was obvious that he didn’t want her pity.
He started to turn away, then thought better of it and turned back to her. “The next time you hear my brother’s cries, Miss St. John, I advise you to remain in your room.” He gave a curt nod of his head. “I bid you good-night.”
She watched as he made his way down the hall. Then she entered her room and closed the door, leaning wearily against it.
“Well,” she whispered. “Welcome to Blackthorne, my girl.”
Chapter Four
Scant hours later Olivia was up and preparing for her first day as nursemaid. Dressed in her simple gray gown, she had just finished tying back her hair into a neat knot at her nape when there was a knock on her door.
“Come.”
Edlyn entered carrying a tray. If anything, her frown was even more pronounced. “Mistress Thornton said I was to bring you tea and biscuits.”
“Thank you, Edlyn. That was kind of Mistress Thornton. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the tray with me and have my breakfast with Liat.”
The servant turned away with a scowl. “I’ll fetch it there myself or Mistress Thornton will have my head.”
“There’s no need.” Olivia wanted to be alone when she met the lad for the first time. She wanted no distractions that might cause him to put up his guard. “I won’t say anything to the housekeeper. I’m sure you have more than enough chores to see to.”
“Aye. Especially when Mistress Thornton is in one of her moods.” The woman rolled her eyes. “You’ve never been insulted until you’ve had your ears blistered by the old biddy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Olivia waited until the servant had left before carrying the tray through the door to the boy’s chambers. The connecting sitting room was much like hers, with a cheery fire blazing on the hearth, and several comfortable chairs and a chaise. There was a small table as well, which Olivia decided would make an excellent writing table for her young charge.
She knocked on his bedroom door, then opened it.
“Hello, Liat. My name is Olivia St. John.” She paused in the doorway and watched as the little boy turned. He was perched on a trunk which he’d dragged over to an alcove. His feet were bare, and he was wearing short pants and a shirt made of some sort of colorful fabric. She made a mental note that the boy needed warmer clothing for the brisk English weather. “What are you looking at?”
The boy shrugged and held his silence.
Olivia crossed the room and paused beside him. “Ah. I see. The gardens. You have a very good view from here. My, they look very small when viewed from so high.” She smiled at him. “Would you like to walk in the gardens?”
He shrank back.
“You mean you wouldn’t like to go outside? Why, I should think a boy like you would enjoy running between the hedges, and chasing butterflies.”
At that he perked up. “Butterflies?”
Ah, so she had managed to snag his attention. “You didn’t think there were any butterflies in England?”
He shook his head.
She gave him a friendly smile. “Well, there are. And deer and rabbits and squirrels. Wouldn’t you like to see them?”
He nodded.
“Good. Then we’ll stroll the garden as soon as we’ve broken our fast.”
He shook his head again. “I’m afraid.” His voice was little more than a whisper.
“Afraid of what?”
“Of the monsters.”
“What monsters?”
“The ones—” he glanced around fearfully “—that sweep in without warning and blot out the sun.”
Puzzled, Olivia was about to ask more questions when he suddenly pointed. “Here comes one now.”
She turned her gaze to the window and watched as a bank of stormclouds covered the sun, shrouding the land in darkness. “It’s just a little rainstorm, Liat. Surely you saw such storms before you came to England.”
He vehemently shook his head. “On my island the sun was always shining. And it was always warm.” He shivered. “There are monsters here that snatch away the sun and warmth. Just the way they snatched away my mama.”
Olivia’s heart went out to the frightened little boy. If there was one thing she understood, it was the confusion that came from having loved ones