His Haunted Heart by Lila Felix Page A

must’ve been illusion.
    “There is a matching corset as well.” Eliza noticed my attraction to the skirt and began flitting through the hangers, looking for its lover. “Here, it matches the black shirt and the cream-colored one. Which one would you like?”
    I was tired of wearing black and gray as if in perpetual funeral garb.
    “The cream, please.”
    “I…” Eliza stuttered, handing over my new clothes and now pulling my hair at the ends. “I could fix your hair. I’ve never had a daughter. It would give me such joy.”
    “I’ve never had someone who wanted to fix my hair, so we are even. Give me a moment to dress and then my hair is yours.”
    With a clap and a giggle, she exited the room. If Porter was to be gone often, I would need to make friends with the woman who shared a connection to him. It was imperative.
    Avoiding the mirror, I stepped back into the bathroom and put on the clothes. It didn’t skip my notice that I’d slept in the same clothes I’d arrived in which meant that I didn’t even remember putting myself to bed. I must’ve been exceptionally tired.
    My clothes were a little large, even after the tightening of the corset. I felt exposed without my threadbare shawl.
    “Is there a shawl or something to cover my shoulders?” The question was posed as I opened the door to my mother-in-law, now pacing in front of the doors.
    “Of course. There’s also a cloak. I thought maybe you’d like to take a walk around the property before breakfast. Be alone with your thoughts a bit. You seem like the kind of girl who appreciates a few breaths alone.”
    “I would appreciate that very much. Thank you.”
    “Now, sit at your vanity. Let me see what I’ve been missing with only a son.”
    I sat down on the pillow-seated chair but chose to look down at the trinkets that decorated the surface instead of the mirror. Eliza chose the brush with delicate ornamental paintings of ladies getting ready for the day brushed onto the head. Her strokes were kind and gentle, and I actually found it pleasant. The task of fixing my hair had always been in my own hands and it wasn’t until I was older that I procured a method to the madness, saving both my sanity and my scalp.
    “You’ve got some dry spots at the ends. Would you mind if I cut a few inches?”
    It wasn’t as if a few inches was the river between me and beautiful.
    “Of course. Do what you wish.”
    Minutes later, Eliza beckoned me to look. She’d rolled and braided my dense black curls into a work of art that almost took away from the ridged mark on my face.
    “Thank you.” I attempted to show her a decent amount of enthusiasm for her effort, but my tone fell flat in delivering.
    “Here.” She passed a burgundy cloak to me from the wardrobe. I took it, letting the fabric caress my shoulders and give me the protection I desired. It was more a matter of modesty than warmth. It offered me a sense of protection. Just for added warmth, I put on a black open cardigan underneath.
    “I won’t be long. I will be afraid of getting lost.”
    “Take your time. We will keep breakfast ready.”
    Words I’d never heard before.
    After a quick hello to the staff who were diligent for such an early hour, I snuck out the back door. For a moment, I was content with the scene before me. Long gone was the spooky pond that seemed to hold secrets of its own. In its place was a scene straight out of a Jane Austen novel. The still water now beckoned. The boats didn’t seem ghost-infested—simply lonely. Another look across the property revealed an expanse I wouldn’t have ever seen in the pitch black of night. Though the gardens were now bare, in my mind’s eye, I could imagine what they’d once looked like, fresh and alive with promise. Now they matched the rest of the estate, a self-telling tale of splendor that once was.
    No matter how dreary the place seemed, the birds didn’t care. The swamp sparrows could be heard singing their good mornings and