I had dreams like the one in the bathtub from time to time.
Building up the fire in the hearth one morning, my eyes wandered to the window. There, I saw a circle of people dressed in green dancing on the round hill in the garden. Once, on the way to church, I was passing through the beech grove and a voice called my name from above. I looked up and saw a beautiful woman in a white dress sitting on a branch, smiling back at me. Each time I saw such things I thought, uh-oh, better do what Arthur told me and close my eyes, pretend I didn’t notice—else they might take my eye. But no sooner would the thought strike me than I’d wake from the dream. I may be mending a uniform, or perched on the bumpy wagon ride to town, or resting on my elbow in the servants’ hall…
Each was a strange experience, like a dream yet not like a dream. When I discussed them with Ainsel, she laughed and suggested the faeries liked me. Mary and Anna were both surprisingly curious about them, and any time they caught me drifting off they begged me to tell them what dreams I’d had.
This gave me an idea. On my way to pray at church, I stopped by the general store in Wald and bought a pen, ink, and paper. Of course, I had no one to write a letter to, but I began recording my dreams on paper before the memories faded so I could remember them clearly for Mary and Anna.
On my breaks, I’d sit at a desk in the servants’ hall, running my pen across the paper.
At my last job, I’d often seen colleagues writing to their homes or lovers. With both my parents gone, I’d never had anyone to write.
So even though these letters weren’t for anyone in particular, writing them made my heart dance.
In time, I began embellishing the events of the dreams, whether influenced by the rumors around us, or wanting to add new elements to the folklore. I made my dreams even stranger and more intriguing, all so the girls would delight in the telling of them. This wasn’t as easy as it seemed in the romance novels I often read.
“Writing a letter?” Miranda asked.
Hesitantly, I answered, “No. More of a story.”
“Oh? You want to be a writer?” Miranda said, not batting an eye.
The idea had never even occurred to me.
I laughed it off.
I’d been born a servant and would be one till I married.
✦ ✦ ✦
Three days had passed since Diana went missing.
Our daily duties were as packed as ever. Mrs. Banks and Mr. Lawrence remained rather agitated, but we continued our battle against ash and dust. We were strictly forbidden from discussing Diana, and we obeyed; I hadn’t even spoken to Ainsel about it. The servants were divided into two camps: those who genuinely believed the faerie had left us and those convinced Mrs. Banks had dreamed the whole thing. When Lord Lowfield received her telegram, he must have assumed the latter. He and his family remained guests of the marquess and were not due home for quite some time.
One night, I was at my work lighting fires in the bedrooms.
Before people turned in, we had to warm the entire building by lighting fires in as many unused rooms as possible. Wald Abbey would freeze this time of year otherwise. Naturally, once it was bedtime, the maids had to go around and put all the fires out. Fire and soot were a constant part of our work.
I was carrying coal from the basement to feed the fire when I felt someone looking at me.
Surprised, I put the bucket down and slowly turned…It was watching me from around the corner.
It was a tiny little creature, about the size of a human child, but furry and had a pointy nose and ears. It was hiding around the corner but stared intently at me. It seemed to want something.
My voice shook as I asked, “Are you Diana?”
The creature’s furry features shifted, possibly into a smile.
“That’s not my name,” it said.
“Are you a Brownie?”
“A Brownie? Then you’re a maid. Are you a maid? Do you like being addressed as ‘Maid’?”
“No, I’m Catherine. Sorry. Do you have a name?”
“I do. But that’s not important now, Catherine.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I whispered.
“There is. The one you call Diana is still here, so stop fussing. We prefer things as they’ve always been.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because you’re special. Only you can hear and see us,” it said.
“Why am I the only one?”
“Because you need us, just as we are.”
I needed them?
What did that mean?
I blinked, and in that instant—
Nothing was there. I ran around the corner and looked, but found no trace of him. Because he no longer needed me? Because he’d said what he had to say?
I stood in the hall until Miranda came along and poked me.
✦ ✦ ✦
When I’d finished my chores, I returned to the hall to find Mr. Lawrence clutching his head. The elderly butler was famous for carrying out his duties without so much as a raised eyebrow, but all trace of that stoicism had vanished.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He glanced at me but must have decided it was no use talking to a little girl. He just sighed.
“Our master seems to have run out of patience,” said Arthur, his breath already smelling of liquor. With no visitors to wait upon, the footmen had finished work already. Sipping a beer, he smiled at me. “The master cut his stay short and will return on the noon train tomorrow.”
“So?” I asked, not really understanding.
Arthur laughed again. Mr. Lawrence groaned aloud, forgetting to scold Arthur.
“An invitation from the marquess!” Arthur said. “They were to stay ten days, yet he suddenly packs up his bags and leaves? Why, because the house faerie ran away? I’ve no idea if the master told them that or not, but that marquess is famous for bearing grudges till his deathbed for the slightest provocation. Do you know what happens when those with power and wealth have it in for you?”
Only then did Mr. Lawrence finally bring himself to weakly scold Arthur for this uncouth gossip.
In other words, this could cause a rift between the marquess and Lord Lowfield. I wasn’t well-versed in high society, but I was sure connections between nobility were of the utmost importance. Power and wealth… A marquess would have no shortage of either. A close bond between households could very well help the earl’s family in their current financial crisis. But if this incident led to the destruction of that bond…
I now felt I understood the little neighbor’s message. I didn’t think the faeries really paid us that much attention. Perhaps I was reading too much into it.
“They’re coming back on the noon train tomorrow?” I asked.
“That’s what they said.”
“Then we’ll simply have to prove Diana hasn’t left.”
“Prove?” Mr. Lawrence said, looking up.
“If we can prove that by morning, we can send them a telegram. Reassured, they can relax and enjoy the rest of their stay.”
“But how? This woman vanished right before Mrs. Banks’s eyes! It could have only been Diana!”
“Well…”
I hung my head.
Diana was still in the manor.
The little neighbor had told me so.
If I believed his words, then the Diana Mrs. Banks had seen wasn’t the real Diana.
That wasn’t a neighbor, but a human.
But who, what for, and how?
How could we solve this strange mystery?
An idea struck me, and I ran off to find the wisest and most knowledgeable person I knew.
✦ ✦ ✦
Ainsel was reading a book by the faint light of a candle, as always. Parlor maids must have had lighter workloads than the rest of us, because she was nearly always in our room before me. She’d already changed into her nightclothes and let her hair down.
“I see. That is a mystery. Like Diana actually left us,” she said, quietly nodding. She leaned sideways against the back of her chair, facing me.
“But she didn’t leave. Diana is apparently still here! A faerie told me—”
“Cathy, why don’t you sit down?”
Right. I put a hand on my beating heart and collapsed onto my hard bed. Ainsel put a finger to her lips.
“The only way out was locked, and Mrs. Banks didn’t pass anyone by on her way… Fascinating.”
“Fascinating?”
I blinked. This wasn’t the expected response.
“I mean, it’s just like Rue Morgue or The Speckled Band. I wonder if there’s a word for those types of stories, where someone escapes from a place with no exits.”
I didn’t know what Ainsel meant, so I just blinked at her.
“This woman appeared before Mrs. Banks and was headed directly for the only exit. But that exit was locked tight, meaning she couldn’t possibly have left through it. Yet she vanished into thin air, like magic.”
“So there’s no way a human could have done it,” I said.
“A stage magician could have. Perhaps an alchemist. Or maybe a mage…”
Ainsel thought for a while. She closed her eyes and put her hands together like she was praying. I’d never seen anyone pray quite like this.
“Or maybe a faerie?” I said.
Ainsel opened her eyes and gave me a mischievous grin.
“No, that woman was no faerie. She was human.”