The Solemn Bell (3 page)

There was a pause. “I don’t think so.”

He licked his lips, which were cracked and bloody. “What are you called, then?”

“Angelica Grey,” she said. “And you?”

“Captain Neill.”

Another pause. “Are you in the war?”

“The war?” he wheezed out a laugh. “The war has been over for years.”

Miss Grey went absolutely quiet. Brody thought, for an instant, that this was news to her. But, of course, everyone knew the war had ended. It was impossible to live for one minute without it haunting society…unless one were a shadowy recluse cut off from the world outside.

“Do you live here all alone?”

“Does it matter?” she said. “You’re welcome to stay here until the storm breaks. No one will give you any trouble.”

He waved her off. “I don’t care about that. I asked if you lived here alone. Do you?”

“…Yes.”

Brody wondered if Miss Grey let strange men into her house often, but he’d asked enough pointed questions. He could tell by the tremor of her voice that she was frightened of him. He didn’t want to cause her any grief. She’d been kind to him when most people would’ve left him to suffer alone. “Thank you for the apple. And the water, though I’m sorry I wasted it onto the floor.”

“It’s all right. I can bring you more water whenever you like, but I’m afraid I’m sorely lacking in apples.”

He shrugged. “I’m not that hungry anyway. But the water is appreciated.”

For the first time, Brody remembered that he was bruised, bloodied, and covered in his own vomit. He’d slung a vase full of it at her just a moment ago. Whoever this shadow-girl was, she was a saint to even stand there.

“I really must apologize…” He attempted to wick some of the vomit from his coat front, but then—to his horror—realized he was just making a worse mess all over her things. “Oh, God. Do forgive me, Miss Grey. You can send me the bill for…for everything. I’ll gladly pay for what I’ve ruined.”

She laughed from somewhere in the darkness. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t mind living like this?”

“I haven’t much of a choice. Most of the servants left for the war, and the Spanish flu took the rest. There isn’t anyone to do the cooking or cleaning.”

He stared at her shadowy form. “But, surely, you could pick up a broom or mop. There’s dust nearly a quarter inch thick, and cobwebs fat enough to snatch a man’s hat off his head.”

“Believe me, I would do more harm than good,” she said, tersely.
 

Damn, he’d opened his stupid mouth and offended her. He had no right to criticize her housekeeping—not when she’d been so kind to him. He really was an ass. It had been so long since he’d spoken with a lady, that he’d forgot how salty they were about such things. The prostitutes and fellow addicts he usually kept company with didn’t give a damn what he thought about their lodgings, or anything else.

“Miss Grey, please. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

But, just as quickly as she had appeared, the girl in the shadows was gone.

CHAPTER FIVE

Angelica listened from behind the wall. She’d slipped out of sight, but was not ready to leave the man. He had to be dying—there was no other explanation for the blood, the reeling nausea, or the smell of decay lingering over him. Yet, despite his suffering, Captain Neill seemed to be a very nice man. She no longer feared him, at least. She wanted to help him. She believed she could help him—in her own pathetic way—until he was in a position to help himself.

After a brief trip downstairs, she returned to the servants’ corridor with an old blanket and a pail once used for mop-water. Captain Neill was cold, and the blanket would help with the shivering. The pail was, of course, self-explanatory. She couldn’t have him ruining her mother’s favorite room with his sick.

Angelica pushed open the panel. “I’ve brought you some things.”

Captain Neill shifted on the sofa. “You’re back. I thought you’d gone forever.”

She handed the blanket out to him. When he took it, she offered him the pail. “Please don’t be embarrassed, but I…well, I thought you could use this, as well.”

He lifted it from her grasp. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else you require?”

“If I say no, will you leave me? Or would you be willing to stay for a little while?”

She hesitated before answering, “If you want me to sit with you, I will, but on one condition—you must not try to look at me.”

There was a smile in his voice as he replied, “Are you hideous?”

Angelica couldn’t help but smile, in spite of herself. “Oh, yes. Terribly.”

It was a lie. Though she had naturally been sheltered growing up, she knew other people weren’t repulsed by her appearance. Some of Freddie’s school friends had even thought her pretty, with eyes the color of the sky. The way one looked—for better or worse—was of no consequence to her, yet she understood the importance others placed on appearances. The reason for keeping her face hidden was not for vanity, but for self-preservation. Angelica did not want Captain Neill to know her weakness.

“Do we have a deal?” she asked, hugging the shadows.

“Very well, Miss Grey. Keep yourself hidden, if it pleases you.”

She sank to the floor, propping her back against the wall. Angelica was close enough to the panel that she could flee if necessary—she always needed to know precisely where the exit of any room lay. She hated fumbling and stumbling in a blind panic. To be trapped in an unfamiliar place was another great fear of hers.

The two of them sat in silence for a long time. Captain Neill was often too sick to speak, and Angelica didn’t really know what to say. She hadn’t met many strangers in her life, and years of solitude made conversation a chore. Also, the storm outside pounded the roof and rattled the windows, which played tricks on her hearing. It muffled sounds that should have been clearly audible—like his labored breathing, or the ticking of the clock on the mantel. From her position on the floor, Angelica was at a disadvantage.

If her unexpected visitor had not arrived, she would have still been huddled on her kitchen pallet, likely fast asleep. But, by some miracle, he was there with her tonight. Angelica would be a fool not to at least learn something of the outside world—this might be her only chance.
 

“Captain Neill.” She paused to clear her throat. “How long has the war been over?”

He sighed, and then shifted on the sofa. The topic clearly made him uncomfortable. “Seven years.”

“Did we…win?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“Lots of men died, though. Didn’t they?”

“Yes, many good men died. Have you really not had a newspaper or anything all this time? Surely, you have friends or family, at least, to bring you word. I find it hard to believe you know nothing of the greatest war in all human history.”

Now it was her turn to be awkward and uncomfortable. “Everyone I know is dead.”

“Lucky devils,” he scoffed.

“That’s not a very kind thing to say.”

Angelica frowned to herself in the darkness. If she had to meet one person in all these years, it was her rotten luck that he was contrary. Why couldn’t she meet a fellow who made conversation pleasant? Who made her feel not quite so freakish, or lost at sea.

She pressed on. “I live quietly, and am cut off from the world. Frankly, if it is as bad as you make it out to be, then I’m glad I know nothing of it. But I had a brother once, and a mother. We were separated during the war.” Angelica took a ragged breath. “I suppose I should have given up hope a long time ago, but, if the war has truly been over for seven years, I must accept that my family is not returning home.”

“Miss Grey, I am sorry…”

Her voice was surprisingly firm as she replied, “No, you’re not.”

“Is that why you never leave—because you’re waiting for them?”

“I stay because there is nowhere else for me to go,” she said. “Nothing for me out there.”

“Then I am sorry, indeed.”

She believed him that time. Her parents, her brother, and her servants were gone. She was alone in the world. Alone in her own dark prison. A man like Captain Neill did not need a heart to feel sorry for a girl like her—she was truly a creature of pity.

Angelica pined for her family, but she had slowly come to terms with their absence over the years. It was, however, a shocking blow to finally hear the words. Seven years. All the hope in her soul left her in that crushing moment. Her family would never come for her. Her family was dead.
 

She sat in numb silence, while Captain Neill got sick into his bucket. She’d made a grave error exposing herself to this man. He knew she was here. He knew she was alone. Soon, he would know her secret.
 

Even well-meaning people gossiped about a reclusive woman living alone. All it would take was for him to mention it in passing at the local pub, or even to his own family over dinner. She had been so careful—just as her mother had instructed. Now, word of her predicament would surely spread, and eventually the men would come. It was only a matter of time.

CHAPTER SIX

The clock on the mantel chimed ten times. Audibly counting the hours was the only way Angelica kept track of the day—otherwise, she grew confused, and her internal rhythm shifted until she could no longer tell morning from night. Normally, she would be asleep by now, but, for the first time in a very long time, she had a reason to keep her eyes open.

Captain Neill shivered beneath his blanket. She could smell the perspiration on his skin, even though the room was uncomfortably cold. He probably suffered from a fever.
 

Angelica remembered fever. She remembered the chills, the discomfort, and the creeping madness. Surely, this was a likely explanation for what plagued the man. It did not, however, explain the blood she practically tasted in the air.

“Captain Neill, are you awake?”

He sighed. “Always.”

“May I ask what brought you here tonight?”

“I crashed my car. Had to walk for miles, and only found your gate by chance.”

She heard him shift in the darkness. The poor man seemed in a constant state of discomfort. “Do you require a doctor?”

“My dear girl, I would love nothing more. Can you ring one?”

“I’m sorry. I have no telephone.”

Again, he sighed. “Figured as much. Hopefully, someone will find my car, and come looking for me. Either way, I’ll be out of your hair by morning.”

Angelica hadn’t counted on someone coming for him. She didn’t know anything about motorcars, but assumed coming upon the wreckage of one would be a curious and frightening sight—especially with the driver missing. It was, therefore, reasonable to assume that a good Samaritan or perhaps even the police might follow his trail to her door.

“You mustn’t tell them about me.”

He laughed. “Are you a trespasser too, Miss Grey?”

“No, this is my home.”

“Then why don’t you want—oh…is it because you’re a young lady living alone? Don’t worry about that. When they see the sorry state I’m in, they won’t believe we’ve got up to anything naughty.”

Growing up, she’d heard her brother Freddie scolded for being naughty, but he’d only been nicking sweets or skipping his lessons. Clearly, Captain Neill wasn’t talking about the childhood antics of an energetic boy. Likely, he meant something closer to what the passionate, panting lovers did in her house when they thought no one was listening.

But Angelica had been listening. And she had been curious.
 

She was, after all, a woman fully grown. The war had been over for seven years, making her twenty-three or twenty-four by now. Most women her age were married with children of their own. Angelica was not foolish enough to believe such a thing could ever happen to her, but she often wondered what it felt like to be kissed, and touched, and loved.

“Captain Neill…”

“What is it, Miss Grey?”

“Are you married?”

He wheezed out a laugh until he nearly choked. “God, no!”

Perhaps Captain Neill wondered what it felt like to be kissed, touched, and loved, as well. Not that she thought anything
naughty
would happen between them, but it was a small comfort to know other people in the world were lonely, too.

He was still coughing as he continued, “I’ve got nothing to offer a girl. I’m the second son of a perfectly common family—my father is quite well off, though—with no home of my own, and only a modest yearly allowance. You see, I’m something of a black sheep. No girl in her right mind would pick a chap like me.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “I’m something of a black sheep, myself.”

“Because you’re an eccentric recluse living in a tumble-down manor house?”

“No. Because I’m—”

Angelica’s confession was cut short by a crash of thunder. There must have been lightning too, because she felt electricity crackle through the stale, still air. The spark and the sound made her jump.

It must also have made Captain Neill jump. He sounded like he nearly fell off the sofa. “Christ!”

“Were we hit?” Angelica scrambled to her feet. Lightning strikes could set the house ablaze.

He blew out a breath. “I don’t think so. Sorry. My fault. I’m not good around flashes and bangs—reminds me of the war.”

She put a hand on her chest to steady her heart. “I don’t care much for loud sounds, either.”

“We make quite a paranoid pair then,” Captain Neill said, laughing nervously. “Really, I ought to thank you again for taking me in. I’d hate to be stuck out there in that racket.”

“I didn’t take you in. You broke in.”

“All the same, thanks for not tossing me out on my ear.”

She smiled in the shadows. “You’re welcome.”

Although he could be coarse and contrary, she was beginning to like having him around. In some small way, he reminded her of Freddie. Or, rather, one of her brother’s schoolmates when he was home on holiday. Freddie had never been ashamed of her, never tried to hide her away when his friends invaded their house between terms. As a result—to her face, at least—none of those young men treated her like a freak or an invalid. It had been fun, chatting and flirting over tea. Angelica missed having someone to talk to.