Free The Burning by Susan Squires Page B

call halt. You might remember that.”
    Ann sucked in a breath to steady her voice. “You will leave this house, sir.”
    He laid his finger aside his nose and cocked his head. “Brockweir invited me. And he’s in no condition, apparently, to tell me to go. So I’ll be staying. And I wouldn’t worry about the kitchen slut. Unless you want to take her place?”
    Ann was so deeply shocked she could hardly think what to say. “I’ll . . . I’ll have the servants—”
    “And I’ll have them clapped up in gaol for assault.” He took a step forward, looming over her. His breath made the room seem stifling. “And don’t think about the magistrate. Who would believe a word you say? You’re a loon. Everybody says so.”
    All at once the mask slipped back in place. He blinked, smiled. His shoulders relaxed. “So, I’ll be off. Back in time for dinner.” He turned and skipped down the stairs.
    Ann stood, shaking. It was worse, far worse than she had even imagined. And the most horrible part was that he wasright. She’d have to send Alice away from here. She glanced down the hall toward her uncle’s room. Her only option was to convince her uncle to throw him out. She strode toward the door. When she opened it and saw him lying there, her resolve faltered. His countenance looked remarkably gray. Only his eyes showed signs of life.
    She steadied herself and smiled at him. “You gave us quite a fright.”
    He smiled tenuously. “I’ll be up and about in no time.” Ann doubted that. His voice was a throaty shadow of itself. His face looked sunken, somehow, among the folds of flesh.
    “Whatever possessed you to come out after me last night?” she asked tenderly.
    “They came looking for you here when Molly was missing.”
    They would of course. The villagers blamed her for every calamity, from failed crops to stillborn calves.
    “You were not in your rooms. I was afraid . . .” He drew his brows together. Even that seemed an effort. “I know you like to roam about at night, but you must stay inside. You saw how dangerous it is.”
    He didn’t know how dangerous the house had become. “Of course,” she soothed.
    “I’ll have Jennings lock you in the nursery. Best for everyone.” He raised his hand off the counterpane an inch or two to stop her protest. “Now, that’s not too much to ask.”
    It was, but she couldn’t argue with him or worry him in his current state. She couldn’t tell him about Erich. She was alone in this.
    “They’ll all feel better about you . . . leave you alone,” he murmured. He began to drift. She could see it in his eyes. “Let Erich take care of you, since I can’t.”
    “Yes, Uncle.”
    “Nice boy . . .” And he drifted off to sleep.

    Ann took on Alice’s aunt, Mrs. Creevy, to watch Uncle Thaddeus when she couldn’t be there. The woman needed the money, so she accepted the position, though she made signs against the evil eye when she took her first payment, in advance.
    Then Ann went down to the kitchen to see Alice. She couldn’t let a dependent of hers be abused in her own house. She engaged the help of Mrs. Simpson and they caught Alice as she came in with a basket full of fresh-laid eggs.
    “Miss Van Helsing wants to talk to you, Alice,” Mrs. Simpson ventured.
    “Wot? I ain’t done nothin’, I swears.” The girl’s swollen eyes widened.
    Ann smiled. “Of course you haven’t done anything wrong, Alice. I’m afraid some wrong has been done you.”
    Her eyes went frightened for a single moment before she looked at the ground and shook her head. “No. Nothin’, nothin’ ain’t been done to me.”
    “Won’t you tell me about it?” Ann cajoled. “I can help, you know.”
    At the expression of sympathy, the girl’s eyes filled. “I can’t, miss. He’ll . . .”
    Ann took two steps toward her, before she met the invisible barrier she always placed between herself and others. She softened her voice again. “My cousin can’t do anything to you