The Face in the House

34

Teddy sat in Rose's room, atop the floral bedspread, Isabelle's diary in her hands. It was late—very late, but time hardly mattered anymore—and she wasn't the slightest bit tired. It had been days since the seance, and it was the first time she'd felt brave enough to sleep alone since.

The experience had shocked everyone in the house, and had inevitably reopened the discussion of who was leaving and who was staying. Despite the message, which was clear and, honestly, terrifying, Teddy was more adamant than ever that nobody should leave. If this force was her great-grandmother, the one who watched her for a weekend as a child, who cooked her mashed potatoes and crocheted silly bathroom signs, then there truly was nothing to worry about.

Still, in her heart she couldn't believe that. She grappled with it still; how could something so dark, so evil, so threatening, be her eccentric, sweet, little old grandma? Even for Thornewood, this logic was fried.

She needed a distraction. Teddy sighed and opened the diary.

***

Dear Diary,

I've yet to speak with Mr. Poole regarding the event in the cellar. It is impossible that he remains unaware of my presence there, as he was likely the one who discovered me. How else should I have made it back to my bedchamber? Though we have not spoken of it, I can feel his gaze on me, almost always. It could be my imagination, but I know better. The butler watches me like a guard might watch a prisoner. Or like a doctor might watch a patient in an asylum.

He has mentioned that his guest departed without ceremony sometime in the night or early morning. For that, I am grateful. I do not need another set of eyes on me.

I leave Thornewood tomorrow. Someday, this will all feel like a bad dream.

***

Dear Diary,

As I planned my exit, I was called into the kitchen by the mistress. The butler was there with her, already seated at the small table where they often dined together. I had expected to depart Thornewood House much like Mr. Allan had, quietly and without a fuss, so this meeting was an unpleasant surprise.

The mistress beckoned me to sit. She looked much healthier than she had in weeks, I noticed. She looked rested, rosy, even youthful. I hated her for it. As I lost my home and my post, she seemed quite unaffected. I stewed on this way until finally, the lady spoke, and her renewed vigor started to make sense.

"Isabelle, I'm so glad you could join us," she said, as if joining was not a direct order. "I was just telling Edward the good news, but I stopped myself. You should both be privy to this announcement."

I looked at the butler, but he did not meet my eye. It was as if his mind was elsewhere.

"I've taken another look at the books," she continued with cheerful energy, "And, with a few minor adjustments, I have found ample room to maintain the house and its lovely staff, indefinitely."

She smiled broadly, and seemed to hold her breath in wait of applause. I was dumbfounded. I had no words to describe the shock I felt.

I suppose, then, that I am staying on at Thornewood after all. My carriage was sent away with a note to my cousin. It's all been arranged.

I cannot help but recall the odd meeting between the mistress and the butler, just days ago. Did they work together, and uncover some great savings they had overlooked before? But how can one stumble upon enough money to cover two salaries in a matter of days?