something very important to say. You can’t abandon him, Belle. He deserves to have his story told, too, as well as Arabella. There must have been a reason why he killed her. You’ll want to know that for your writing. The only interesting thing about her is that Vanejul loved her. Really he is the clue to her story.”
The strange and incomprehensible thing is that I half wanted to stay. I was in a cold sweat at the thought of confronting Vanejul again, but I did not want to abandon Arabella. I felt that if I did, I was condemning myself to a whole future life of cowardice, to chances not dared, roads not taken.
Mollie continued her persuasions. “Come now, where is your gumption?”
“But I’m afraid!” I howled.
“Oh, pooh! Anybody would be afraid the first time. It’s how you handle your fear that determines what sort of a person you are. I’ll stay with you, if you like.”
“Would you?”
“I’d love it. Don’t be frightened. The power you possess is in all of us, but stronger in some than others. You—and I—inhabit what is called the Enchanted Boundary, that area between the visible world and the world beyond, where such wonderful things happen.”
She led me to the table and filled my teacup, while talking in a calming way to soothe my fears. “I can’t tell you the marvelous experiences I’ve had. If you leave, you’ll always wonder what your life would have been if you had dared to stay. We need that touch of wonder in our lives, whether we call it religion or something else.”
“I wanted to write Arabella’s story,” I admitted, “but how can I find out the facts at this late date?”
She studied me with a small, complacent smile. “Why don’t you just write what you feel? Call it fiction. The writing will do you good, and who knows, Arabella might whisper a few truths in your ear as you write.”
“You’ll stay with me?”
“I have to work during the day, but it’s the night’s you’re afraid of, isn’t it? There’s always something about the dark.”
“Yes, so far he’s only come at night.”
“You’ll be fine. Wear Arabella’s locket. It’s good to have something of hers on you, a talisman.”
I put the gold chain around my neck and fastened it. I knew I was doing the right thing to stay. If any shred of common decency remained in Vanejul, he would not harm me when I was under Arabella’s protection.
“If Vanejul is the ghost,” I said, “then it wasn’t Arabella that came at the séance, but I feel she’s here, too.”
Mollie looked at the necklace. “Perhaps that’s what is putting you in touch with her,” she said. “If both Arabella and Vanejul are around, it should be interesting.”
What I was feeling was closer to terror, but from some deep well of strength within me, I summoned courage to carry on.
Chapter Nine
Novisitations or nightmares disturbed my sleep in the blue room that night. In the morning, a shaft of sunlight filtered through the filigree of leaves outside my window, dappling the counterpane and walls with a mosaic of sun spots, like a Monet painting. Mollie tapped at the door and appeared with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Mollie, you shouldn’t have done that. I’m supposed to be the hostess.”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right before I left, dear. I have to nip home and change. You won’t be gone when I return after work, will you?”
The idea seemed absurd. I was no longer afraid, but eager to get to work. I palmed the talisman around my throat. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m going to do as you suggested—just plunge in and start writing, and see what happens."
“You might be surprised,” she said, setting the cup down on the table. “There’s more coffee on the stove. Enjoy.”
She waved and left. I plumped up the pillows and enjoyed the luxury of coffee in bed, while pondering at what point in Arabella’s life I should begin her story. She would have lived a life of wealth and privilege