Murder by Twilight by Blythe Baker

Author:Blythe Baker [Baker, Blythe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-29T22:00:00+00:00

When I woke up, I was shivering.

The fire in my hearth had waned to small embers, and the cool wind that had blown away the rain clouds, also blew open my window. The draft was icy, and I darted across the wood floor in bare feet, slammed the window shut, and then threw myself back beneath the covers to get warm.

I couldn’t hear any movement in the rest of the house, and that more than anything propelled me out of bed. I wanted to be sure my dream hadn’t come true.

The second I opened the door, I could hear Camellia’s singing voice, lulling Hazel back to sleep. I could also hear the confident click of Nurse Gray’s heeled shoes on the floor. Charles, I couldn’t hear, but I had every reason to believe he was down in his study as usual.

Confident the rest of the house hadn’t disappeared, I went back into my room, laced my walking boots on over my stockings, and slipped into my wool coat.

No one stopped me as I tromped through the house and through the back door. I didn’t expect they would. Catherine as the only exception, everyone seemed to want me to leave sooner rather than later.

I would not give them what they wanted, but I did require frequent outings to help keep my sanity. Part of me felt Catherine had begun to lose her wits because the house itself was so gloomy.

No one smiled or laughed or joked. It was nothing but glum people coexisting alongside one another without ever really interacting. Nothing like the home I knew Catherine wanted.

If there was any doubt that my dream had been nothing more than a dream, my first step out of the back door was proof enough. Almost immediately, my boots sunk two inches deep in mud.

The ground suctioned around my shoes, pulling at my feet in turn as I moved down the path, but I did not turn back.

I needed a break from the four walls of my room, and I could not spend another second next to my sister’s bedside or reading books in the sitting room downstairs, or trying to talk sense into my brother-in-law.

If I was to remain at Catherine’s home—a previously and mistakenly described ‘picturesque countryside escape’—I needed fresh air and time to think. I needed to remind myself of what was real and what was not.

Despite what Charles said, I knew my sister was not insane.

Camellia’s relationship with Hazel was not normal or healthy.

Nurse Gray over-medicated Catherine.

Margaret and Abigail Wilds might be the most normal people I had met during my time in the moors.

Aside from the strange moment we’d shared the last time I’d visited when the women refused to acknowledge the striking similarities between their sister and mine, they had been nothing but open and honest with me. That seemed much more normal than hiding away in dark rooms and not talking to anyone. It seemed a better option than avoiding difficult problems and hoping they went away on their own.

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