1 a Spirited Manor
“Wesley ran forward and gathered her up into his arms. She felt herself unable to stop trembling as she buried her face into his strong chest, his thin nightshirt soft against her cheek, the lapels of his velvet night robe giving her something to clutch to as she tried to will away the memory of the dead man.
Horace raced into the library as he put on his glasses. She heard him exclaim, "Great scot!" The others passed by and peered into the room.
"Well, I'll be damned," said Marguerite. "I gu...ess that was one way to get him to shut up." Clifford came over to Clara, patting her back. "There, there," he said, as if trying to coax her away from Wesley's comfort and into his own arms. "What a terrible fright you have had." Horace came out and glowered angrily at Clara. "Tell me what happened. Tell me every detail down to the last." "I came downstairs," Clara gulped.
"Why? Why did you come downstairs?" demanded Horace. "We agreed everyone would stay locked in their room." Clara looked up at Wesley, knowing that he was the only one who might understand what really happened. Instead, she just said, "I heard a noise. I thought I heard someone walking down the hallway and so I got up to investigate. I thought I heard them going into the library, so I followed. Only, there was something heavy against the door. I pressed and pressed. I'm afraid that it was Norman." Wesley smoothed her hair, resting his cheek upon her forehead. "We'll get it all sorted. Don't you worry." She realized that at this point, Norman would have been the one to accuse her of murder, but he was not there to shout such accusations. So instead, the entire room looked around at one another, unsure of what to do next.MoreLess
Horace raced into the library as he put on his glasses. She heard him exclaim, "Great scot!" The others passed by and peered into the room.
"Well, I'll be damned," said Marguerite. "I gu...ess that was one way to get him to shut up." Clifford came over to Clara, patting her back. "There, there," he said, as if trying to coax her away from Wesley's comfort and into his own arms. "What a terrible fright you have had." Horace came out and glowered angrily at Clara. "Tell me what happened. Tell me every detail down to the last." "I came downstairs," Clara gulped.
"Why? Why did you come downstairs?" demanded Horace. "We agreed everyone would stay locked in their room." Clara looked up at Wesley, knowing that he was the only one who might understand what really happened. Instead, she just said, "I heard a noise. I thought I heard someone walking down the hallway and so I got up to investigate. I thought I heard them going into the library, so I followed. Only, there was something heavy against the door. I pressed and pressed. I'm afraid that it was Norman." Wesley smoothed her hair, resting his cheek upon her forehead. "We'll get it all sorted. Don't you worry." She realized that at this point, Norman would have been the one to accuse her of murder, but he was not there to shout such accusations. So instead, the entire room looked around at one another, unsure of what to do next.MoreLess
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