When told he would retain his room, Will had paced around and stood in his own doorway, struggling to explain himself. In the end, he could not. All he knew was he did not like it.
In the darkness, Angelika ran her fingers across her quilt. It was embroidered with thousands of little stars. For the first time, she thought about that unknown person who had labored over something she liked but also barely noticed. They were probably paid a pittance. Her thoughts then turned to the new chambermaid, Sarah, sleeping in a very cold and uncomfortable room at the boardinghouse. Angelika had no idea of how to ration coal.
She turned over, plumped up her goose-down pillow, and wondered at the randomness of wealth. It was her luck to be asleep in this ornate room, and her maid Sarah’s misfortune to have a gambling father. It was clear which woman worked harder, and who had the greater difficulties to overcome.
Will was another example of how, in an instant, everything could change. Angelika tried to imagine waking up tomorrow, with no name, belongings, home, wealth, or options. How would she survive? She’d have to work underneath a cantankerous old Mary in some grand house and would certainly be thrashed for her incompetence.
She was either dozing, or more awake than she’d ever been. The house hummed with a new energy. A quick succession of memories began: every time she thoughtlessly paid a lot of money for something unnecessary. Over and over in a loop, her hand dipped into her purse to buy figs, chestnuts, soap, tapestries, gloves, and garnets, and grapes, and geraniums, and garters, and grosgrain, and gold rings, and—
“Enough,” she told herself out loud. “I will be mindful from this moment on.”
The air had a peculiar tightness, and when she propped herself up on her elbows, she thought she heard a sound, perhaps downstairs. In the dark, she whispered, “Something’s happening in the house.”
After donning her robe and slippers （and noticing the fine quality of each item）， she went downstairs and saw Victor standing in the open doorway to their father’s study. He was shirtless and holding a candelabra, and there was an iron fire poker leaning on the wall beside him.
Victor had a tattoo on his shoulder, a letter L, almost certainly for Lizzie. When had he gotten it? Didn’t they tell each other everything? Angelika thought of her brother as reedy and slim, but she could see now that he was an adult man, his body the result of roughly ten thousand chin-ups in the laboratory.
Disgusting to admit it, but Lizzie must have been very impressed.
Angelika refocused on the iron poker. “Vic, don’t be rash.”
In a hushed voice, Victor replied, “Shhh. Look, it’s Will.”
He held up the candelabra and they could see Will at the shelves behind their father’s desk. The already-cluttered room looked as if it had been messily searched. There were drawers pulled out of the bureau, and a crate overspilling papers on the floor.
Victor indicated the fire poker. “I came downstairs ready to dash a thief’s brains in. I found him like this. I have been watching for ten minutes, at least.”
Angelika’s heart was beating uncomfortably. It looked very much like her beloved was a nighttime thief. “What is he doing? Why isn’t he turning around?”
“He’s sleepwalking. Is this common for him? Does he talk in his sleep?”
Angelika gave her brother a withering look. “I haven’t had the good fortune to find out. Does Lizzie?”
Victor rolled his shoulders in a stretch. “Lizzie is rendered utterly speechless for the rest of her life. Look, he’s really turning the room upside down.”
“I’ll get him—” Angelika started over, but her brother blocked her.
“If you stop him, you won’t find out what he’s doing. Use your head, Jelly. This is his subconscious mind at work. His true self.”
Angelika leaned on the doorframe. “Mary has complained about messes in various rooms, but I thought she was exaggerating.”
“Then an apology is owed.” Victor’s tone was dry. “Will asked me the other day when she will finish working for us. I honestly never thought about it. She is well beyond working age.”
Angelika winced. “We are lucky to never consider how we will live, or survive, or afford anything. We will never have to work until we are Mary’s age.”
Victor was open-mouthed. “I have never heard you speak like that. Usually, you are just at me for more, with your hand outstretched.”
“It’s Will. He’s opening my eyes, and he makes me want to be . . . better. I want him to be proud of me. And I want to be able to wake in the middle of the night and know I am as good as I can be.” She tensed, expecting teasing.