. . until he did not. He tired of Teddy, and Teddy did not tire of him. So William claimed that Teddy went for a walk alone in the moors and never returned. Then there was Eliza. At first, William thought her sufficiently dull and plodding, no threat to his freedom. He would marry her and live the life of a country lord with his horses and his mistresses and a dutiful wife to manage his household. But Eliza pursued William like a lovesick boy intent on winning a shy maiden. She stole what he values most—his privacy. Like Teddy, she would not leave him be. I tried to reason with her. The day she died, I took her walking in the moors to give him time without her, but we became separated—I’m convinced William had a hand in that. She was lost in the moors, just like Teddy. She was never found again, just like Teddy. William killed her, just like—”
Her gaze rises over my shoulder, and her blue eyes harden.
“No,” she spits. “No, you will not.”
She stamps one foot, glowering into the predawn moor. I turn, following her gaze, and there is Harold, the head groom. He stands ten feet away, spade gripped in both hands, gaze fixed on her.
“No!” She lunges at him, but stops short, as if afraid to go closer. “Have you not done enough?”
He doesn’t move. Just stands there, empty gaze fixed on Cordelia. Then he raises the spade and slams the pointed tip into the earth, and she screams.
She screams . . . and disappears.
I wheel on Harold. “She’s right. Haven’t you done enough?”
“No.” His voice comes like the rasp of a file on metal. “I have not.”
He lifts the spade from the earth and walks away, fading as he goes.
There’s no point in lingering. The ghosts are gone. I make note of my surroundings so I can find Cordelia’s body. Then I return to the house.
Once back, I gather the items Freya suggested for summoning ghosts. I work quickly—it’ll be dawn soon, and I’ll lose my chance if I tarry.
I sit cross legged on the floor outside the linen closet. I leave Enigma in my room—I don’t want her frightened if I succeed. When I succeed. I’m determined to do so.
For two hours, I attempt to summon the spirits of the woman and the boy. I even use Teddy’s name. It does no good.
I’m about to give up when I hear the softest sound of a boy crying. I throw open the linen closet door, but the noise seems to come through an open window. I hurry down the stairs and out the front door, following the soft crying around the side of the house, and there is the boy. He’s wearing the same outfit as his ghost—the baggy knickers and white shirt. He sits beside the house, his head on his knees.
I hurry over and bend in front of him.
“Teddy?”
He doesn’t lift his head. Doesn’t pause his quiet sobs.
“Teddy?” Another voice says behind me. It’s an older boy’s voice, high and musical.
I turn to see a fair-haired boy of about twelve jogging toward us. He bends beside Teddy and puts a hand on his knee. Teddy looks up, swiping away the tears, his face a mask of mortification.
“I—I wasn’t—” Teddy begins.
“It’s the hay, isn’t it?” the boy says. “It always makes my eyes water. I swear William knows it, and that’s why he works so much in that blasted barn, hoping if the hay bothers me enough, I’ll leave him alone.”
The older boy smiles, but Teddy only drops his head. “He doesn’t want you to leave. He likes you, August. You’re his friend.”
“So are you,” August says. “But William and I are of an age, and there are things we can do that you cannot. Like riding into Whitby for the day. William could have been kinder when he said you couldn’t join us. I’ve already told him that, and he feels badly.”
August lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Bad enough, I suspect, to bring you a treat.” He shifts on his haunches. “When William is brusque, do not take it to heart. If I did, our friendship would have died ages ago. He gets so caught up with his blasted horses that he snaps at any distraction—you, me, even Cordie.”
August pushes to his feet. “Speaking of little Cordelia . . .”
He shades his eyes, looking around.
“Harold!” August calls, and I see the groom rounding the back of the house. “Have you seen