Page 119 of Red Masquerade

“What are you doing?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Had she heard it? Did she know what was within? The dead from long ago, or—

“You must get inside,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the house. It stood tall against the riotous sky, the usually clean exterior looking stained black with the rain.

She wore a blue raincoat and hat, already soaked with water, and she pulled me away quickly, her grip strong.

“The sky is about to open up and you’re outside,” she said, more to herself than to me, shaking her head.

“I needed to clear my head,” I said.

Séra scoffed as the iron gate of the garden clanged shut behind us. “You’ll get a chill,” she said. “And if you’re sick, who’s going to keep Vince occupied?”

“He seems occupied enough as it is.”

She glanced at me. “What do you mean?”

“He disappears. If he’s not with me, he’s doing… whatever it is that he does.”

“You can always find me,” she said as though it were obvious. We stepped under the covering of the veranda, just as the rain came down in sheets. My dress was soaked through, the slippers ruined.

“I don’t know where you are half the time,” I said. I didn’t say how much I wished to invite Flora over. How much I wished to go to the city again—to get out of this house. It was grand and beautiful, but I was tiring of seeing the same walls, days on end. Of feeling like I was being watched, some specter spying on me for Vince—just as Séra had, just as Sinclair had.

“Then that’s something we’ll remedy,” she said with a soft smile.

A servant appeared at the front door with two towels. Séra wrapped one around my shoulders, pushing my wet hair from my face.

Where were they before? Where had everyone gone? And what made them come back so suddenly?

“You’re not my keeper, Séra.”

She just shrugged, and I followed her back inside the house, into the foyer. I could hear the squall outside through the pelting of the roof, the creaking of the windows.

“I want you to like it here,” she said simply. “Whatever I can do—”

“Where were you?”

She paused just before the ballroom, shucking off her raincoat into the hands of the dead-eyed, silent servant. “We just went out. Vince was called into the city.”

“And you left me here?”

She shrugged again. “He didn’t want to wake you.”

I crossed my arms, ignoring the way my clothing clung to my skin, cold now with all the water that soaked through. “Where is he?”

It was too odd—their swift return, the sudden sense of life once more in the manor. As though I’d awoken in a dream-world and I was its sole inhabitant, until somehow, that veil had been lifted. And he hadn’t found me, Séra had. The slight frown to her lips, the forced smiles…

“He’s gone to his study. Working,” she said, and motioned to one of the many waiting servants, all standing in a line against the wall, hands clasped, like automatons waiting for instruction. “Let’s get you a bath.”

“I’m fine.” I just needed out of these clothes.

“I insist,” she said, grabbing my hand once more. The feeling of her cold skin, in conjunction with the drops of water on her fingers, was a peculiar sensation. We started up the stairs, my slippers squeaking against the polished floor, a servant following, presumably to run the bath.

She said nothing else as we made it to the hall of our bedroom. The servant went ahead of us, and as we approached Vince and I’s bedroom door, which stood ajar, the sound of running water coming from inside. “Would you like me to help?”

“You are not my maid anymore, Séra,” I said, shucking off the towel. And I just wanted to be alone.