and carried me inside. He stood in the foyer with me in his arms, each of us soaking wet and water streaming onto the floor. Mrs. Amber came running, but stopped in her tracks when she saw us. She stood with her mouth hanging open, and when she spoke, it was to me and her voice was full of anger.
“What have you done?” she asked.
“Call the doctor.” Lucas carried me to the sofa and placed me upon it.
“It was very strange,” I said. “Something spooked the horse.” But even as I said the words I doubted the truth of them. The shadow had made no sound and did not seem to have any substance. I could make no sense of it and I tried to ignore the nagging sensation that it was something that I wouldn’t want to understand.
Mrs. Amber and I went back and forth, and Mr. St. Claire watched me, listening to every word I spoke, although he said nothing in my defense. When Mrs. Amber went to the kitchen to get me a poultice, I tried to thank Mr. St. Claire.
“I am so happy you found me,” I said.
His face immediately turned twisted and angry, and I realized that I had said something very wrong. He turned and walked away, but I managed to tug at his trousers as he walked by.
“I’m trying to thank you. Please don’t just walk away.”
“Consider this a warning. I can just walk away, and I usually do.”
I thought of our previous night, and a sense of foreboding settled over me.
* * *
The doctor declared that my injury was minor, barely even a bruise. Mrs. Amber was relieved to hear that, and quickly put me to work again, although she made some accommodation and set me to polishing the silver.
I was stationed in the kitchen. The table in front of me was piled with platters and utensils that already seemed to gleam in the meager light, but I did as I was told, and polished them until they were so bright I could see my reflection in them. Just before dinner, Mrs. Amber came and helped me stack them away.
I felt Mrs. Amber’s eyes on me during dinner. I knew she was upset that I had drawn his attention to myself.
If she only knew the extent of his attention,
I thought to myself.
I remembered Maxie, the dog from the courtyard, and took pity on the animal. I hid some scraps of my meal in a napkin to feed her later that night. It wasn’t until I thought of Maxie and setting aside scraps that I realized my mind was already made up. Of course I would go.
The evening chore of kitchen cleanup went by quickly, and I felt like a child anticipating a new toy. When we were finished for the night, I bolted to my small room, seeing it not as the dismal chamber that I once had, but rather as a portal to the outside, to the house of glass.
Maxie arrived after midnight. I opened the window and called softly. She trotted over, her silver-white coat glowing in the darkness. I dropped the bits of meat, one by one, and she grabbed them from the air and wolfed them down in a most unladylike manner. She was what we called an island mutt, a mix of a hundred unknown breeds.
When she was finished, her tail thumped against the ground and she let out a small whine. “Shh,” I whispered to her, but my voice only excited her more. Her body burst into motion and she let out a yip. I realized that she was about to wake the entire household with her enthusiasm.
I quickly squirmed through the small window and dropped to the ground. The dog went crazy with happiness, licking my hands and face. Her stomach was stretched tight. I thought that it couldn’t be much longer. I coaxed her along the side of the house, along the path. When we reached the soft grass, I stopped and looked around. The whole world was in darkness and yet still bursting with life.
Far away, I could hear the sound of a buoy, clanging in time with the waves. The ocean was a dark and somber twin to the sky, which was a million points of light, cast in all directions, like a net. The palm trees rustled in the wind. I stepped onto the grass, which was cool and damp
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