"I was wondering if you might want anything for dinner," Delia said as she strode over to the lamp and adjusted its lavender shade idly. "I know you're probably very tired from your long day of travel, but I can have anything whipped up for you in the kitchen. Anything you'd like."
Are your kitchen staff familiar with moussaka? Viette scoffed fleetingly, then chided herself for being so harsh with her thoughts. Henry had implored her to be civil with Delia, so she ought to at least make the effort. "I'm not very hungry right now, but I'm sure I'll be ready for a big breakfast in the morning."
Delia smiled and reached out, wrapping her arm around Viette's shoulders and giving them a little squeeze. "It's a date, then," she said quietly, then withdrew almost too quickly and crossed her arms as she walked over to the fireplace. "I'm sorry it's so cold in here," she said with her back to Viette. "I'm sure you already really miss the warmth of Greece. I've been there before, you know. Henry and I went shortly before, ahh... you were born."
Viette watched her mother load a few logs into the fireplace and crouch on the floor, expertly striking a match and coaxing spirited flames to fill the hearth from the spark. Hmm, Viette thought with a bit of surprise. So Delia Doherty can do a few things for herself.
Rising from her crouched position, Delia turned and headed for the door. "It's not normally this cold in April," she assured Viette, her hand on the knob. "We've had a rainy spell the past few days. I promise, it'll get better."
But before Viette could assure her that she didn't mind the weather so much, Delia had slipped out the door and closed it behind her.
*****
Exhausted, Viette climbed into the big four poster bed in the center of the room. Sliding in between the thick, silky sheets, she thought of Henry and Grandpa Peter on the vineyard a few miles away, then of the few friends she'd had to say goodbye to in Kavala just yesterday. She couldn't help imagining her Aunt Carlotta, with her round face and sparkling eyes framed by a puff of auburn curls, lying on a table somewhere, her body unfamiliarly cold. Viette glanced thankfully across the room at the fire prancing in the hearth, and was almost instantly asleep.
*****
The door is heavy, but I'm strong enough to break the handle and rip out the lock. I'm glad I know the turns in this big old house, because it's pitch dark inside and I don't dare light the candle in my pocket unless I absolutely have to. The place seems deserted now, but the Dohertys are suspicious folk, and any bump in the night is bound to disturb their blissful, rich slumber.
No trouble finding the staircase, just around the corner where the stupid maid said I would. Now I just have to make it to the third floor. The third floor, and it's the second door on the right. You'll know it because it won't be locked like all the other guest rooms. The girl's only been in the country a few days, but it's been a few days too many, if you ask me.
I feel the heaviness of the revolver in my coat pocket. Loaded.
Second floor landing. This is the dangerous part. Hope none of the servants are doing rounds, tending fires. Hope the heavy heavy night has them all in their beds. The girl's in her bed now. The revolver's in my pocket.
I hear it in time. A door opening. Too late to go back up the stairs, just enough time to get back down. I put my hand on the revolver and slide back down the stairs, fluid-like, and they never hear me.
*****
Viette sat up too quickly in bed, and immediately noticed three things: the fire was out in the hearth, her stomach was growling, but the pounding of her heart overwhelmed the chill and her hunger.
She tried to cling to the last glimmering memories of her disconcerting nightmare, but they faded hastily to the back of her mind. All Viette could recall as she reached for the dressing gown hung by the bed was a feeling of terrible, brutal anger and the worry of being caught.
What a stupid nightmare, Viette thought with a sigh. What else can I expect, though, really? After the uprooting from Greece, the anxiety of Carlotta's looming funeral, and being in England again?
