Chapter 4 - The Secret of the Sea
The morning after the storm, the mansion was quieter than usual. The rain had cleared, leaving a thick, pale fog that rolled off the ocean, swallowing the cliffs and the lower gardens in a silent, white shroud.
I stayed in bed, my body aching from the cold of the balcony, my mind spinning with the words Edmund had spoken before he fled.
I thought if I watched, I could keep it from happening again.
At ten o'clock, there was a soft, hesitant knock on my door.
"Come in," I said, sitting up and pulling the duvet around my shoulders.
The door opened slowly, and Clara, the young maid from the library, stepped inside. She was carrying a tray with hot tea and toast, but her hands were shaking so badly the porcelain cups were clicking together like teeth.
She closed the door behind her, but she didn't leave. Instead, she stood by the edge of the bed, her eyes darting to the corner where Edmund’s chair sat, before looking down at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated pity.
"Mrs. Moore," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the heating vents. "I... I shouldn't be here. Mrs. Gable told me she’d fire me if I spoke to you again. But I can't sleep. Not after last night."
I reached out, my hand covering her cold fingers, pulling her closer to the bed. "Clara, please. Tell me what is happening in this house. Why is Edmund watching me? What happened to Madeline?"
Clara swallowed hard, a single tear escaping her eye and rolling down her pale cheek. She looked toward the door once more before leaning in close, her breath smelling faintly of peppermint.
"It wasn't an accident, Mrs. Moore," she whispered. "What happened to the first Mrs. Moore. They told the papers she slipped on the wet stone during a storm. But that's not what happened."
"What happened?" I asked, my heart pausing in my chest.
"She was a sleepwalker," Clara said, her voice trembling. "Just like you. When she first came to this house, she seemed fine. But after a few weeks, she started getting up in the middle of the night. She’d walk the halls with her eyes wide open, but she was fast asleep. She wouldn't answer if you called her name. She’d just walk... straight toward the sea."
A chill, deeper than the ocean water, crept through my veins. "And Edmund?"
"Mr. Moore loved her," Clara said, her eyes welling with tears. "He loved her more than anything in this world. When he realized what was happening, he stayed awake every night to watch her. He’d sit in that very chair, Mrs. Moore. For months, he didn't sleep more than an hour a day. He thought if he kept his eyes on her, he could keep her safe."
"Then what changed?" I whispered.
"One night... he fell asleep," Clara said, her voice cracking. "It was a night just like last night. A massive storm. He had been working for forty-eight hours straight, and his eyes just closed for a few minutes. When he woke up... the balcony doors were open. He ran to the edge, but it was too late. She had already walked over."
I sat back against the pillows, the breath leaving my body in a long, shuddering gasp.
Edmund wasn't a monster. He wasn't a cold, controlling stranger who wanted to dominate my life.
He was a broken, guilt-ridden man who was trying to prevent a tragedy from repeating itself. He had bought a wife—not for pleasure, not for status—but because he believed his house was cursed, and he was determined to stand as the shield between me and the dark.
"But why me?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Why did he marry me?"
Clara looked at me, her eyes filled with a terrifying, ancient truth.
"Because you have her eyes, Mrs. Moore," she whispered. "And because... your father was dying of the exact same disease that took Madeline’s mother. He knew you were desperate. He knew you'd sign the contract. He thought... he thought if he could save your father, and if he could save you from the cliff, he could finally make amends for what he did to her."
Before I could answer, the door to the bedroom flew open.
Mrs. Gable stood in the doorway, her face pale with fury as she looked from Clara to me.
"Clara!" she barked, her voice like a whip. "Get out. Now."
Clara dropped the tray onto the nightstand, her face turning white as she scurried past the older woman and out into the hallway.
Mrs. Gable stepped into the room, her eyes fixed on me with a cold, warning intensity. "Do not listen to the stories of children, Mrs. Moore. This house has many echoes. But the only thing you need to know is that Mr. Moore has done everything in his power to keep you alive. I suggest you remember that before you start looking for secrets that do not belong to you."
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She turned and left, the heavy door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silent room with the realization that the man I had married was not my captor.
He was my savior. And he was slowly dying of the weight of his own vigil.
