Page 14 of Marrying Bluebeard

“That’s right.”

I suppress the urge to smother him in hugs, settling for a smile instead. “Well, then. I hope you have enough to last for years to come.”

There’s a hint of longing in his gaze as he looks at me. “If only the cost weren’t so high, I’d wish the same.”

If the rumors are to be believed, he has more money than he can spend. It must be an awfully rare tonic to warrant such worry. A bell rings from downstairs, calling us back to the parlor. The game is over, but I don’t feel like a winner.

10

ADELAIDE

Ibarely sleep that night, haunted by visions of dying men with empty flasks slipping from their fingers. Whisper curls around my head as I toss and turn, attempting to soothe me. It’s a touching gesture, but I’m up at dawn all the same, black smudges marking the undersides of my eyes. I feel unbearably restless, and when my gaze lands on the shimmering ripples of the lake, I know what I need to do.

A swim will set me to rights.

I wear my lightest dress, a simple white sheath with cap sleeves, and throw a blanket around my shoulders to warm myself with afterward. The house is quiet after the previous evening’s revelries, several of the guests not returning to their rooms until well after midnight. They’ll likely sleep until lunch, which suits me fine. I’m in no mood for company.

What could he have that requires a steady consumption of tonic? It doesn’t seem to be anything contagious. If it were, he surely wouldn’t be attending house parties… would he?

What I know about rare diseases wouldn’t fill a paragraph, much less answer the questions that keep popping into my mind. Tristan claims an interest in medicine, although he’s slacked so much in his studies I’m beginning to doubt he’s serious about becoming a doctor. It’s more likely he’s using it as an excuse to avoid working with Julien full-time. Still, perhaps I can find a way to casually work it into conversation later, see if he’s heard of anything.

The water feels wonderful as I step into the shallows, having discarded my stockings and shoes in the grass. It’s been a hot, humid summer, and now the lake is as close to bath water as it’ll ever get. I wade out farther, letting it soak the hem of my dress all the way up to my waist before diving the rest of the way in.

I adore the feeling of being submersed, that momentary escape from the world above. When I was younger, I dreamed of sprouting gills and spending the rest of my days exploring the muted depths of the sea. Even now, the idea brings a smile to my lips.

I’d make a perfectly lovely mermaid.

I swim to the center and roll onto my back, floating atop the surface. Time slows as I idly drift, and I close my eyes as the morning sun warms my cheeks. Something cool brushes the tips of my fingers, and I peek one eye open as I turn my head.

It would seem I’m not as alone as I thought.

A little boy with black hair stares back at me. He’s immersed in the water from the nose down, his wide eyes only an inch above the surface, but I can hear his voice as clearly as if he were whispering directly into my ear. “Are you hiding from the bad man, too?”

I maneuver myself into an upright position, unease seeping through my bones. “Just out for a morning swim.”

He considers this for a moment, watching me tread water. “You’re a good swimmer.” I can see the hint of a frown beneath the surface. “Unlike me.”

I’m itching to swim ashore, wanting nothing more than to grab my things and flee from this apparition. All my life they’ve haunted me, and I’m tired. Tired of asking why, tired of caring. Tired of having nothing more to offer than kind words and a listening ear.

And yet, I stay.

“Is that how you died?” I ask gently. “Did you drown?”

His head bobs. “I was looking for Mama.”

The water cools, sending shivers through my body. “You were looking for her in the lake?”

Another bob. “She came here to hide from the bad man,” he whispers, casting a glance toward the house. “But I’m afraid the stones in her pockets were too heavy. She hasn’t come out. I… I have to find her.”

My heart breaks at the quiver that trembles through his voice. I wonder how long his ghost has lingered, searching for a mother who sought freedom in the rushes. “Your mother is at peace now.” I brush back his hair. “Don’t you think it’s time you found some too?”

His expression remains somber. “Mama is here, though.”

My teeth chatter as the water grows colder still. “She’s still hiding in the lake?”

“No. Not hiding,” he whispers, and I scream as a hand grasps my ankle, pulling me below the surface. Long, black hair swirls around a frighteningly beautiful face as the woman holds me under. I kick at it, struggling to free myself from her vice-like grip, but she only proceeds to claw her way up my body until we’re face-to-face. Clamping a hand over my mouth, she whispers, “Shush now. He’ll hear you.”

I dig my fingers into her icy flesh, fighting for all I’m worth. She may be able to touch me, but contact goes both ways. I wedge my foot against her stomach and push off, gasping for air as I come up. The relief is fleeting, however; the woman’s arms wrapping around me from behind as she pulls me back down, down, down, all the way to the bottom of the lake. Mud stirs beneath my feet, making murky whirlpools that obscure my vision. My lungs burn with the need to breathe.