Free Lady of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle Page B

suspicious movements, until she arrived at the last door leading into the bedchamber of her youngest sister, Mary.
    A flurry of anxious, hushed voices met her ears.
    Caroline threw open the door, hoping for an element of surprise and whisked into the shadow-ridden bedchamber.
    Candles flickered in response to her entrance, shifting light and shadows across the length of the hardwood floor and the bed.
    Anne, Elizabeth and Victoria, who were gathered at the foot of Mary’s bed, all in nightgowns and ruffled nightcaps, froze and turned in unison to gawk at Caroline.
    Their similar green-blue eyes appeared dark against the dull light of the candle. Guilt was deeply etched into every single one of those freckled faces.
    Caroline set her hands on her hips. “Out with it. Where is it? Who has it?”
    Anne, who was newly thirteen and a bit too proud of it, snapped an accusatory forefinger toward Mary.
    Caroline lifted an inquisitive brow. “Mary? Did you take my coin?”
    Mary lay regally outstretched atop her bombazine coverlet. She didn’t respond.
    It appeared another funeral was in progress. One of only several dozen to have taken place since the passing of their father.
    Those slender arms had been serenely crossed at the wrists over her chest, her eyes peacefully shut in complete submission. Mary didn’t even appear to be breathing, but then again, Mary had practiced the art of dying far too often for Caroline to be concerned.
    “Little Miss Morbid has it,” Anne retorted, dropping her hand back to her side. “She claims it’s the only way to summon Charon. Whoever that is.”
    “Charon?” Caroline glanced toward Mary in exasperation. “As in the Greek deity who escorts dead souls into the pits of Hades on a boat?”
    Mary sat up from her burial position, shoving her golden chestnut braid back over the shoulder of her bombazine gown and spit something soundly into her hand. The gold sovereign Caroline had been looking for promptly appeared in Mary’s cupped hand, glistening with an unsavory amount of wetness.
    Caroline wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I hope you at least washed it.”
    Mary glared at them from beneath thin, furrowed brows. “Why is everyone always congregating in my room? There are ten other bedchambers in this house. No wonder Charon never visits! Because it’s not like any of you are dead. You have to be dead or have a coin in your mouth so you can pay him and get on the boat. Or he won’t come. Don’t you know anything about Greek mythology? Get a coin or leave.”
    Anne slowly shook her head, wobbling her floppy-rimmed nightcap. “I’m beginning to think she is deranged. Is there an asylum we can drop her off at?”
    Caroline glared at Anne. Anne seemed to forget it was Mary who had found their dead father. And it was Mary who had clung to that dead body until one of the footmen had dashed outside to follow her screams. “Stop teasing her. It’s all you ever do.”
    Mary regally set her small chin. “Yes. Stop teasing me. Because I will have you know, Anne , that Charon is real. If God can exist in our realm, why can’t Charon exist in our realm?” She notably quieted her voice. “It’s the only way I’ll ever get a chance to see Papa again without actually dying. So if you think that is deranged, I’m more than fine with it.” Mary quietly wedged the sovereign back into her mouth and settled herself back onto the bed. Crossing her arms once again, at the center of her chest, she closed her eyes.
    Anne lowered her gaze, as if finally knowing she had overstepped her bounds and murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m going to bed.” She turned, walking out the open door with bare feet.
    Victoria and Elizabeth quietly turned and also left the room.
    There were so many times Caroline still missed Bath. She missed her long walks with her grandfather, which had always been so beautifully quiet and peaceful. Unlike her life now. With a sigh, she made her way toward Mary. It was achingly