1 A Spirited Manor Read Online Free Page B

stopped him.  "I shall have Nan fetch my things.  You have
quite enough to do tidying up after my breakfast."
    "Very good, ma'am." 
    She found herself giving him
another smile.  It seemed rude not to return the goodwill that he bore towards
her.  She stepped into the foyer and called, "Nan!  Could you bring me my
hat and gloves?"
    The housemaid did not respond,
so Clara decided to go upstairs and get them herself.
    But as she walked down the
hallway, she was struck with a wash of cold.  It was as if someone had taken a
bucket of ice water and poured it over her head.  It reminded her of that cold
she felt the night before and instinctively, she looked for the girl in
purple.  Fear clenched her heart and filled her with foreboding.  She could
feel its beat pounding in her chest.  Her mind screamed at her to fly, to run
as far and as fast as she could without looking back, but all she could manage
was a single step.  And suddenly the cold was gone.  Her pulse returned to
normal.  The impending doom melted like sugar in water.  She turned back and
held out her hand into the space where she just stood and could feel the biting
cold of that one spot.  Clara walked swiftly to her room to fetch her things
and when she came back, edged her way around the area.
    Willard was carrying out the
breakfast tray when she reached the ground floor once again.
    "Willard?  Have you ever
found particularly cold places here in this house?"
    He nodded knowingly. 
"Indeed, ma'am.  There are some places in this house that are quite
drafty.  It seems as if it is winter in one or two corners.  Nothing to worry
yourself about, ma'am."
    "There was one spot in the
middle of the hallway," said Clara, pointing at where she had just been. 
She thought she saw a look of mild irritation cross Willard's face, not towards
her, but almost towards the location of the cold, the way one might look upon
finding a broken shingle on a roof or peeling paint upon a board.
    "This house," he
muttered.  "I shall make sure she moves."
    "I am sorry, Willard.  Did
you say 'she'?"
    The faraway look in his eyes
disappeared and he shook his head, "Apologies.  I was thinking of your
midnight visitor.  I meant that I shall make sure we see to the draft."
    He stepped down the hallway to
take the tray into the kitchen.  Clara watched him as he went, wondering if
there was perhaps more to her dream than met the eye, and that Willard meant
that 'she' more than he was letting on.

Chapter Seven
    C lara settled into her bed,
exhausted from so many nights of so little sleep. 
    The day had passed quietly with
no great excitement.  She strolled the neighborhood in the morning, pausing to
look into shop windows and admire the small garden in front of her house.  She
returned indoors in the afternoon to explore her new home and rearranged the
few things that she brought from her old place.  She attempted to nap and
failed.  And then she sat and waited for the hours to pass.
    Dinner was another lovely meal. 
Chicken glazed with a sweet orange sauce, dessert a small cake with fresh
cream.  She saw that Willard meant it quite literally when he said he would
ensure her dreams were sweet tonight.
    And then the blessed hour of
bedtime arrived and once again, she surrendered to the embrace of her pillows. 
She swaddled herself in her blankets and nestled in.  Her eyes closed as the
clock struck ten.
    "Clara..." whispered a
voice.
    She was aware of the chimes
ringing out midnight.  Slowly, sleepily, she lifted her lids.  The bedroom was
bathed in that same blue light and the girl stood in the corner reaching out to
her.  The cold returned, causing Clara's teeth to chatter, and perhaps it was
more fear than cold that caused her to shake.  But this time, she did not
scream.  Instead, she asked, "What do you want from me?"
    The girl waved at her to follow
as she passed through the door of the bedroom.  There was a part of Clara's
mind which wanted to pretend that