Josie's dreams were mostly forgettable except for a single, blood-curdling scream. It was vivid enough to wake her, but ethereal enough to not keep her from falling back asleep almost instantly.
Morning came quickly thereafter, obvious from the light struggling to break through the heavy drapery. Throwing off the warm covers, Josie slipped her bare feet onto the colorful, wool carpet and tiptoed to the windows. After freeing the panes of their obstacles, she was momentarily blinded by the sunshine and almost knocked over a tray with breakfast on a side table.
Josie rubbed her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the brightness, but the scene in front of her did not change. Someone had been in the room while she slept. She cringed at the thought of the old butler sneaking around without her knowing.
She took a deep breath, eyeing the fresh glass of milk. Perhaps it wasn't Wesley. A place this big had to have more than one servant. Surely a chambermaid or the cook herself delivered the food.
But why go to the trouble?
Josie gasped and ran toward the door, her heart beating feverishly. Did they lock her in again?
No, the handle turned easily.
Her breathing slowly normalized. Maybe she'd just overslept and missed the formal breakfast again. After a night like the previous one, Donatella must have known she'd need more rest.
Stretching her limbs to fully awaken, Josie pulled a chair up to the table. It was the same meal as the day before, but she didn't mind repetition. Especially when it was so delicious.
After spreading jam on the crunchy bread, she took a bite. It was still warm. How did they manage to make it taste like it had just come out from under the toasting iron?
She didn't ponder it any further. The wardrobe's door - definitely locked previously - was now slightly ajar. Throwing the rest of the toast back onto the plate, Josie got up to investigate.
She found a complete attire of fashionable women's clothes hung neatly within. Pulling out a tailored pink frock, she held it against her thin frame.
It was just her size!
After changing into the new dress - Donatella surely wouldn't mind - Josie brushed her hair and tied back the sides with a matching pink bow. She could definitely get used to wearing a new outfit every day.
Quickly finishing her breakfast, she left her room and ran down the grand staircase, pausing long enough to sidestep the fourth rung from the bottom. When she looked back at the always-troublesome spot, sure enough, the same white cat as before was there, casually grooming himself.
Josie smiled. She may not have understood the strange phenomenon, but at least she was figuring out how to live with it.
The foyer was quiet, which wasn't that unusual. After she'd searched all of the ground floor rooms - from the parlor and dining room to the kitchen and conservatory - and still hadn't seen a single soul, Josie finally became suspicious.
Where could they be?
The Mollicks probably didn't live in the manor, and most likely, neither did Mister Hyde. Donatella could have been holed-up in her top-level suite of rooms, but where were the other guests? Were Morrigan and Eliza accompanying the still-frail Margie on a stroll in the garden? And how about the staff? Wesley always made himself scarce, but he usually emerged when he was needed.
Finding herself back in the foyer, Josie stared at the large, wooden door. This was her chance. She could slip outside, scale the fence, and head down the dirt road toward the nearest town. From there, she could send word to Mother and Father to get her.
Her hand on the iron door handle, Josie hesitated. But what if they refused? What if they didn't want her back?
She bit her lip. No, Mother had said they'd meet again. Even Donatella had told her it was up to Josie when and how she left.
Opening the door, she stepped onto the portico.
The weather was spectacular. The fog was gone, dried up by the full sunshine, which gave the air spring-like warmth. Even the birds were chirping.
Descending the stone steps, she finally got a good look at the two gargoyles framing the entryway. The mythical beings were definitely less off-putting than on first glance. Although one wore a neutral expression, the other appeared to be smiling. Made of stone, they couldn't have looked any different before. The rain and darkness must have distorted their features.
Leaving the statues behind, Josie hurried down the path toward the massive iron gates. She didn't hear or see anyone along the way; not even a bothersome raven appeared.
Even from afar, Josie could see the thick chain and lock holding the gate's wings together. Unlike before, they didn't disappear by the time she reached the property's boundary.
The girl rubbed the soft fabric of her dress between her fingertips, unsure of how to proceed. Shaking her head, she knew she had to try something.
The lock was rusted and no amount of tugging could make it budge. Inspecting the endless fencing for the appropriate climbing place, Josie couldn't help but worry. The decorative spikes on the tip of each post were sharp enough to do serious damage if she slipped.
Movement down the road caught her eye. Sticking her face through the gap between the iron bars, she got a good view of the boy.
He looked to be about Josie's age. With his hands in the pockets of his smart suit jacket, he was walking along kicking rocks out of his way. When he got perpendicular to her without noticing the girl, Josie called out to him.
"Hey there!"
The boy jumped in surprise and turned his head.
"Yes, I'm talking to you." Josie affirmed when he continued to just stare at her in silence. "Would you mind coming here, please?"
Doing as asked, he stopped on the other side of the fence, allowing Josie to get a good look.
He had friendly, blue eyes, and his short, mousy brown hair was expertly parted in the middle. His skin was pale, but his smile looked genuine.
"Hello there." The boy spoke with a northern dialect.
Josie quickly got to the point. "Who are you?"
"Marcus Mayweather of Cheshire." He pretended to tip a hat he wasn't wearing.
Josie giggled. "May I simply call you Marcus?"
"You may." He politely nodded. "And what can I call you?"
"My name is Josephine Lyttleton-Bradley, but Josie will do." She theatrically curtsied.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Josie. Do you live there?" He nodded toward the building in the distance.
She shook her head. "I'm just visiting. And you? What are you doing out here in the country all by yourself?"
Marcus frowned. "I don't know."
"Well, where were you going?" She tilted her head in confusion.
He scratched his temple, an act usually reserved for adults attempting to recall something forgotten. After a few seconds, he raised a forefinger in triumph. "On holiday! I was going on holiday."
"Lovely! I do love a good holiday." Josie smiled before furrowing her brows. "I'm afraid this place probably wasn't what you had in mind, though." She indicated toward the farmlands surrounding the wooded estate.
"I don't know." Marcus shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't look that bad to me." He looked specifically at the manor.
The wind rustled the few remaining leaves on the tree overhead as an idea struck the girl. "Would you like to come in?"
"I don't know if I should." He took a cautious step backward.
"Oh please. It would make spending time here so much more enjoyable." Josie dramatically enlarged her eyes and pouted. "Or would you rather wander these roads aimlessly?"
He sighed. "I suppose not, but would the lord of the house agree to my presence?"
"There's no lord, just a lady. And she's my Great Aunt, so I don't see why she'd object."
Marcus smiled. "Very well. But how do I get in?"
"Are you good at climbing?" Josie glanced at the top of the fence.
The boy wrinkled his nose, no doubt at the sight of the spikes. "I suppose."
"Go on, then." Josie urged when he continued to stare at the obstacle.
Taking a deep breath, Marcus put one foot onto the stone base. After grabbing the bars with his hands, he pulled himself up. Now came the hard part. Sticking his scoffed, leather shoe onto one of the decorative patterns, the boy raised his hand above his head and gripped the narrow rod between two sharp embellishments.
He attempted to push himself up with one foot while swinging the other over the top, but Marcus' shoe slipped. Josie gasped when the pointed tip of the iron spike grazed the boy's throat when his body suddenly moved back down.
"That was a close one," Marcus laughed nervously as he regained his footing. His second attempt was more successful and once over the top, he jumped into a pile of leaves below.
"Come." Josie grabbed the boy's hand and pulled him after her. "I can't wait to show you-"
"Josephine Lyttleton-Bradley! What is the meaning of this?" Donatella hurried towards them, her lips pursed in anger.
The children skidded to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust and dried leaves around their feet. Before Josie could explain the situation, her Great Aunt continued.
"Why did you bring this boy here?" She pointed at the now trembling Marcus. "He doesn't belong with us. He cannot stay."
Josie stepped forward and squared her shoulders. "Please, Aunt Donatella. He's lost and alone . . ." She trailed off when the woman turned her back and began walking up the stairs.
Donatella wasn't interested in persuasion, and Josie's heart sank at the thought of losing her only potential friend. Even the gargoyles were against her, now appearing to be snarling from this viewpoint.
That was impossible, of course.
Arriving on the porch, Donatella turned and crossed her arms. "Very well. It's too late now, at any rate." She sighed. "You're safe until sundown, but afterwards, I don't know what to expect."
"Why? What happens after sundown?" Josie's shoulders drooped in anticipation of the no-doubt ominous revelation.
The wind blew Donatella's long, dark hair across her face as she spoke. "That's when the Mollick boys return. And they are not going to be happy."