Whispers In The Waters by Sarah Chislon

Author:Sarah Chislon [Chislon, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub

I passed a restless night, my dreams broken by all manner of disturbing images: magnificent, malevolent rusalka tempting Lady Ackerley past the iron palings and into the river; Lord Ackerley looming over Isuel; the Dyott sinkhole growing to swallow the cottage and mill alike; and black-clad Vigilists pounding down our door to haul Nelda away.

At last, I woke with a gasp. A bird chirruped outside the window, and the great oak rose stolid and stately beyond the glass, unshaken by imagined terrors. Nelda had already left the bedchamber, and the murmur of her conversation with Aunt Caris drifted into the room. Since their excursion together, Aunt Caris had inclined further in her favor. Evidently, Nelda had remained quiet and troubled during their day of travel but comported herself with all propriety, sealing her in Aunt Caris’s mind as an unfortunate in need of aid.

In response to her kindness, Nelda had grown more comfortable as well, which removed one burden.

I dressed hurriedly. If Aunt Caris didn’t require my assistance, I’d seek to learn more from the townsfolk this morning, starting with the former gardener. A visit to the bakery to see if I could discover what Lord Ackerley had said to influence the baker might also prove illuminating.

At the dining table, I gratefully accepted the steaming cup of tea that Aunt Caris offered, in hopes it would lift the fog from my thoughts. But no sooner had I taken a sip than a sharp rap sounded at the door.

Nelda flinched. “May I go?”

Aunt Caris folded her hands. “I think that would be best. I can’t imagine who would call this early, but you should wait in the sitting room until we find out who’s here. No sense reminding them of your presence.”

After Nelda vanished, I opened the door. The stratesman waited on the other side, the white insignia on his shoulder a stark contrast to the otherwise earthen tones of his garments. The lines furrowing his forehead suggested advanced years, as did a beard the curling texture of forester moss, liberally sprinkled with gray. Still, he held himself tall and erect, altogether an imposing figure. My stomach twisted.

Had he come for Nelda after all?

“I’m Stratesman Bancroft. Forgive the disruption, but I’d like to speak with you.” While polite, his firm tone permitted no denial.

“With me?”

“And your aunt.”

He glanced past me, and I clung to the door as if it were a lifeline. I wanted to shut it in his face, but that would cause far greater trouble. So I stepped back. “Please come in.”

Aunt Caris forced a stiff smile. “How can we help you, Stratesman Bancroft?”

“It’s about the young woman, Nelda.” He straightened his cuffs. “I’m not certain you’re aware, but you’re housing the foremost suspect in the disturbing events at Dyott Mill.”

Aunt Caris shot me a glance which contained more than a hint of fear. Now that she’d concerned herself with Nelda, if the girl were taken away, it would cause Aunt Caris further distress.

I shrank inward and wrapped my arms around my chest.

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