Free Bird by Rita Murphy

bedchamber. Even though I had spent much time there during her illness, I felt uneasy about entering it without her permission. Still, I had to find some peace, and so I made my way there as soon as it was light.
    Nothing had changed since her departure. Bedsheets still lay rumpled and twisted, evidence of Wysteria’s tossing about in her feverish state. I inspected her nightstand and looked under the bed. Lastly, I opened her armoire and pulled aside the many black dresses. On the floor was a wooden box, the top of which was engraved with the initials W.B. It was unlocked and I opened it. Inside lay Wysteria’s keys. Relieved, I put them directly into my pocket and was about to close the box when I spied something at the bottom of it. Underneath a white handkerchief lay a series of small glass bottles turned on their sides. They were not unlike the ones that lined Wysteria’s nightstand, only these looked much older and were empty but for one, which distinctly had my name written upon it in Wysteria’s hand. I picked it up and examined it in the light. Below my name, there was a word scrawled upon the slender white label that I could not decipher but that looked very much like the writing on the few small bottles Dr. Mead had prescribed for Wysteria during her recent illness. I unscrewed the cap and sniffed, detecting only a slight fragrance of alcohol. Strange, I thought. Whatever could it be for? I replaced the cap and dropped the bottle in my pocket with the keys. I then examined each of the other bottles, but, as I had suspected, the labels all bore the same illegible scrawl. I explored the rest of the armoire. It was vast and deep, yet it held nothing but petticoats and old bed curtains, and so I closed it. I left Wysteria’s chamber, locking the door behind me.
    With keys in hand, I promptly locked every door and every cupboard as Wysteria did upon retiring for bed, and that night there were no noises or footsteps or lights. I locked myself into the captain’s study in the evening after I lit the lantern, staying there until dawn, and the door remained secure until I myself opened it.
    In my isolation, I had much time to ponder the nurse’s story, the things Dr. Mead had told me about the captain and Wysteria, and the small glass bottle with my name on it, but no matter how I tried, nothing fit together properly. Perhaps they had nothing to do with one another. Perhaps they were just too many people’s stories tangled about each other. How could I believe that Wysteria and the Manor would harm me? Wysteria had found me and taken me in. The Manor had sheltered me. Yet Miss Moreland’s words resounded in my ears: “Leave it as soon as you are able. . . . Do not wait for her return.” I had the distinct feeling that I would never unravel this mystery while confined within the walls of the Manor, and so I promised myself that I would wait until the first clear day. Surely in the open air it would all make sense to me.
    Just as I was to abandon all hope of ever leaving, the fog lifted, broken by a strong gale that raged against the glass and brought heavy rain that traveled in long, unbroken sheets across the lake. For two days, I could open the door only long enough to collect firewood from the box in the entranceway, but I preferred the rain to the fog, for now I had once again a view of the mountains.
    By early June, I was sleeping through the night again, all the doors securely locked and the house quiet. I had found it difficult in the days previous to keep my concentration with the nets and had accomplished little. As well, I had grown short-tempered with the Hounds, and they had left my peevish company to take their chances in the fog. The day the weather finally cleared, the shaggy beasts came back humble and hungry, and with them they brought Farley.

10
    “U p here! I’m up here!” Farley stood at the top of the elm above my window with a ribbon in his hand. “I came back, like I said I would.