“Allow me, Mrs. Healy,” he said, extending an arm.
Glancing over, he saw Timmy extend his own to Selina, who was smiling down at him.
She looked up and their eyes met, and Philip felt the impact of her stare right down to his toes.
“Come on then, or we’ll starve to death.”
Mrs. Healy gave his arm a tug, breaking Selina’s spell over him, and Philip dutifully led them all to the dining room.
He’d meant to ignore whatever this was between Selina and him. Meant to put it from his mind and only concentrate on his son.
Yet, as he waited for the ladies to sit before taking his own seat, he couldn’t help but wonder how he was ever going to ignore the temptation that she was, now that he’d had a taste of the forbidden fruit.
Chapter 11
“Mama. No!”
Selina bolted upright from where she’d been resting in a chair by Timothy’s bed.
She’d been waiting for what felt like hours for something or someone to disrupt the child’s sleep.
Earlier at dinner, she’d sensed the presence. It wasn’t strong, but it was definitely there, and she’d known there would be a visitation tonight.
It wasn’t that Charlotte ever left, not really. There was always something hovering around the boy, yet as the days had progressed and Timothy had flourished into a chatty, impish, adventurous boy, the presence had eased. So much so that Selina sometimes forgot all about it.
But ever since her kiss with Philip, it had grown stronger. Stronger, but still attached to the boy.
As she watched, he sat up. Alert and filled with terror, his eyes staring at something that nobody else could see.
Just like in the nursery, a sudden and chilling wind swept through the room, and a mournful wail sounded in Selina’s head.
She rushed to light the herbs that she’d prepared by Timothy’s bedside, all the while whispering words of endearment to the scared boy.
She sat by Timothy’s side and placed a hand on each of his tear-stained cheeks, looking into his face, searching for another.
There.
Gooseflesh broke out along her arms as the boy’s face contorted with agony.
“Charlotte.”
Selina spoke firmly but kindly.
She watched closely, waiting, hoping that she’d be strong enough for this.
Inside her head, the crying became screeching, and she had to work not to lift her hands and cover her ears.
“You’re hurting him, Charlotte. You’re scaring him. You must let him go.”
She spoke quietly, willing her words to reach the poor, tortured soul.
“You must let him go.”
She repeated the words over and over and as she spoke, as she held on and stared into those eyes, she felt a calming in the room, a quietening inside her mind.
It was working. She was getting through.
“I know that you’re sad that you left him.” Selina spoke urgently now, not sure how much longer she could hold on.
Her limbs were growing heavy, and her head was pounding so much it felt as though it were trying to cleave itself in two.
“I know that you loved him and didn’t want to leave him. But you must leave him now. You must move on. Be at peace so that Timothy can be at peace, too.”
A tiny kernel of peace seemed to appear in Selina’s mind, and even Timothy was calming. Though his whole body was trembling beneath her touch, his sobs were losing volume.
There was something though. Something keeping Charlotte here. Something stopping her from truly letting go.
But Selina didn’t know what it could be.
“Why won’t you leave him?” she rasped.
The pain in her head was becoming unbearable, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on.
Suddenly, the door to Timmy’s bedchamber burst open, and Philip came charging into the room, his eyes blazing, Agnes hot on his heels.
“Timmy,” he shouted rushing toward the bed.
As soon as Philip entered the room, Timothy let out an inhuman scream, and the same scream sounded inside Selina’s head, along with such a feeling of sorrow and pain that she cried out in agony.
From far away she heard a cacophony of sounds – Philip’s shouts interspersed with Agnes’s urgent calls and mutterings from servants. But everything sounded as though she were underwater.
Selina didn’t look at any of them, however. Her eyelids were growing heavy, and her stomach roiled as the pain in her head made her nauseated.
But she kept staring into Timothy’s eyes. Timothy, whose screams weren’t abating.
And she knew.
It wasn’t just Timothy causing Charlotte’s pain, stopping her from moving on. It was Philip.
She couldn’t let either of them go. Or rather, Philip, at least, couldn’t