Splinters of Scarlet by Emily Bain Murphy

Author:Emily Bain Murphy
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780358157366
Publisher: HMH Books
Published: 2020-07-20T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Three days before New Year’s, Jakob heads to the capital to meet with Dr. Holm. Liljan climbs into the carriage with him to run errands for Nina in town. Jakob raises his hand to me, the other holding the book of ideas I bound for him this morning. Liljan pauses when she looks over her shoulder and I feel a sort of shimmer in the air. I sense that something is about to change with what we are setting in motion.

And then they are both gone.

The house is emptying after the holiday—Philip leaves to return south, and though he’s due back one more time for the new year, I hope that soon we won’t see him again for months on end. It feels like letting out a stale breath, to watch his carriage pull away, snow sticking in the wheels. Ivy is the last to leave that morning. She borrows one of the Vestergaard horses, saddling it in the stables. She’ll return in a few days, to ring in the new year here. I tighten my apron, unable to shake this unsettled feeling that is forming like cobwebs in my chest.

Time to approach Helene about the red stones.

I advance toward her bedroom with Liljan’s sketches tucked into a leather folder. “It’s all about presentation and confidence,” Liljan said to me last night, pouring out red on the paper in splashes of scarlet and crimson.

“I wish you’d do it,” I told her. “You’re better at it than me.”

“You can do it, Marit,” she insisted.

I hesitate in front of Helene’s door, smooth my apron, and then raise my hand to knock. “Mrs. Vestergaard?” I ask softly.

There is nothing but silence in return.

Then the door opens abruptly, sending me jumping back.

“She went out,” Lara says, covered in soot from dusting out Helene’s grate. “Early this morning.” There’s a smudge on her cheek, and she’s holding a feather duster.

“Has Eve gone too?” I ask. I turn toward her room, my heart lifting at the thought of a few moments alone with her.

“I’m not sure,” Lara says, and then below us, the front door bursts open with a violent scrape.

Someone staggers in, the snow swirling into the room with their steps.

“Who’s there?” Lara calls, peering over the banister.

I can feel the cold seeping in from outside.

“Help me,” a woman’s voice says. “Help. In the road.” She takes in a jagged breath and it almost sounds like a sob. “I think they’re both dead.”

Lara drops her feather duster and screams.

Because Helene Vestergaard is standing in the foyer.

And the front of her coat is soaked through with dark red blood.

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