“I suggest you come back inside, Violet, unless you’d like Miss Donovan here to meet a rather messy end.”

He’d kill her anyway, eventually. She knew too much. But I wouldn’t be the catalyst.

I inched back along the ledge to the window. The walls behind them began to drip with water. No one noticed. When I was within arms’ reach, he shoved Caroline and yanked me inside.

“Where’s Mr. Travis?” I demanded.

“Bleeding on my best rug.”

Tabitha looked confused. “My heart’s racing.”

Her uncle ignored her. “The talented Miss Willoughby,” he said to me. Gone was the cheerful, portly man who’d snuck Elizabeth extra Christmas pudding. There was something disturbing to his smile. “You would have caused me far less trouble if you’d been more like your mother. I did try to warn you.”

“You did?” I blinked. “The urn.” I understood suddenly. “The chandelier. It was you.”

“That blasted Travis boy interfered. I ought to have killed him too, but Jasper kept him busy with lectures and séances. I hope you showed him proper gratitude.”

Actually, I’d considered it likely he was a murderer.

“But you were the one to save me from the chandelier.”

“Too many damned witnesses. And it kept you from wondering about me, didn’t it?”

“And you’ve been drugging Tabitha,” I said, horrified. “Why?”

“She’s been getting agitated. Wants to go to London, wants to get married and leave me a pauper. Not a spot of gratitude on the girl. Haven’t I taken care of her? And then she asked about that damned ring.”

Rowena loomed over her uncle suddenly, until he shivered in the chill.

“You really did kill Rowena.”

His gaze snapped onto me. “Clever girl. Too clever, by half.”

I lifted my chin stubbornly. “She’s here now.”

He jerked, looking over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

“She will always be with you,” I added, trying to disconcert him. “She will never leave you alone.”

“Shut up!” He kicked out at me, looking grim, wild. Water was beginning to pool on the carpet. “Never mind.” His smile was pleasant again and all the worse for it.

“You can’t keep us here.” My hip caught the edge of the desk, bruising painfully.

“Of course I can. A letter will be sent to Lord Jasper expressing your sincere apologies, but you simply had to return to London and your mother. No one will know you’ve disappeared; no one will think to look for you until it’s far, far too late.”

He was wrong.

Colin would know.

I made a dash toward the door, but his hand was a vice around my upper arm. A lamp tumbled to the ground. Caroline squeaked.

“Tsk, Miss Willoughby. I’m only offering you a chance to rest. A little laudanum,” he said pleasantly. “Won’t hurt a bit. You might even enjoy it.” I fought harder. “Drink it, Miss Willoughby. It would be easier on you if you slept. I can’t have you carrying tales, and I have to think what to do next.”

“No.” I pressed my lips fiercely together but he was stronger than I was. He forced the laudanum into me, pressed his hand over my mouth and nose until I couldn’t hold my breath anymore. A trickle went down my throat. The taste of the opium tincture was sweet and strong and medicinal. It was familiar. It was the same taste in Rowena’s mouth the night she drowned. My knees wobbled like jellied pudding. I took advantage of it and collapsed onto the rug. I rolled my head down, spitting out most of the laudanum so it soaked into the carpet. Enough had made it into my system that I felt floaty and odd, but I wasn’t likely to die as Sir Wentworth wanted.

Everything was too bright, too watery. I felt rather cheerful even as my thoughts went foggy, slippery. I struggled to turn my head.

“Don’t fight it,” Wentworth said. “You’ll only do yourself a harm.”

“Rowena,” I mumbled. “She’s behind you.”

“What are you playing at?” Wentworth roared. But I could see the hairs on his arms lifting. I met his uncertain glare.

“She’s everywhere,” I whispered.

The surface of the mirror rippled like water, showing Rowena’s cold face. Water began to drip from the curtains and run in rivulets across the floor. Sir Wentworth leaped away from it as if it were acid. It felt cool on my cheeks. When one of the pipes cracked loudly inside the walls, more water flooded into the room. I swallowed as much of the water as I could, knowing I’d need to flush the laudanum out.

“What is this?” He was furious, but scared too.

In every window, every gleaming surface—water jug, silver spoon, silver sequins on a cushion—Rowena’s face appeared. Winter filled the room. Where there wasn’t cold wind, there was water; cold rain slicked down the wall, puddled at our feet, beat against the windows. The sweet, cloying scent of white lilies was everywhere, touching everything. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if my dress had turned to ice.

Tabitha sat up.“Rowena?” she asked tentatively, hopefully.

Her uncle stumbled back. “This is a trick.”

Rowena’s hope chest opened and folded letters whipped out, slapping him in the face. The edges cut into his skin, drawing blood. He batted at them frantically. Saliva foamed at the corners of his mouth. Cold wind pushed at him also, until he tripped over his own feet in his haste to get out of the room. Rowena drifted through the door, chasing him with a ghostly laugh like shattering glass.