Chapter 4: A Guest Who Couldn't Leave

The old woman waited until I moved away from the chair.

"You needn't stand for me," she said.

"I wasn't going to sit."

"Sensible."

She wore a dark skirt, pearl buttons, and shoes polished for a journey.

I could see the edge of the fireplace through her sleeve.

My aunt made a small sound of recognition.

"Rosamund Berridge," she said.

"The portrait over the stair."

The old woman looked at her.

"You can turn it toward the window if you dislike it."

Elaine glanced toward the hall.

I stepped between her and the doorway.

"Nobody's taking another family piece," I said.

Rosamund looked at Rupert's empty hands with evident interest.

He put them in his pockets, then took them out again.

I wanted to laugh and couldn't quite manage it.

The old woman was standing where there'd been nothing a moment before.

She'd died long before my grandmother inherited the house.

I remembered the dates beneath her portrait now.

"You're dead," I said.

"Seventy-nine," she replied.

"A reasonable age, though I had other plans."

She touched a small travel bag at her side.

Its handle had been mended with cloth.

I looked at her shoes again and wondered how long she'd been ready to leave.

Behind me, Pippa shifted her overnight bag to her other hand.

It held her own slippers and the book she'd brought for a normal family visit.

I wanted those things to stay ordinary.

"You don't have to remain because I invited you," I told her.

She looked toward the hall, frightened but no longer waiting for my aunt's instructions.

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