They had a week left, and God help her, Blythe needed to make it count.
TWENTY-FIVE
FOXGLOVE MANOR SAT UPON THE EDGE OF A WEATHERWORN CLIFFSIDE.
No one who saw the sloping porch or shattered windows would call it a “proud” estate, nor was it the warm and welcoming seaside manor that Signa had once envisioned establishing a proper life in. As it stood, Foxglove was as dreary a gray as the skies behind it and the thrashing water below, and was shielded by overgrown ferns and dampened jasmine that clawed its way up the towering structure.
Signa had felt the land’s bitter chill before she’d even stepped out of the carriage, Gundry looping circles at her muddied heels. Elaine followed, clutching her bonnet tight as the wind gnashed against them. Her small face was pinched as she watched the storm circle like a starved predator, waiting to strike.
This close to the cliff’s edge, Signa couldn’t help but wonder whether such a storm might whisk them away and toss their bodies into the fervent sea. She peered down at the scuttling crabs that huddled on jagged rocks covered with sea-foam and frowned, for such curiosity did nothing to ease her troubled mind. She would have of course preferred for the home to have been readied and staffed prior to her arrival so that Foxglove at least wouldn’t look as precarious as it felt, but they’d have to make do. She and Elaine had come with only their belongings and enough supplies to get settled, which was fortunate. Considering the storm poised to strike at any moment, there was no saying when they’d be able to head into town.
Still, Foxglove couldn’t all be doom and gloom. Signa’s parents had lived here once, after all, and were rumored to have hosted dozens of extravagant soirees during their years. Perhaps the gloom was rare, then. Or, better yet, perhaps there was beauty in the midst of the gloom, and she needed only to squint to find it. She tried—very hard, in fact—until her temples pulsed and her eyes grew sore.
“It has potential.” Signa tried to sound hopeful, more for herself than for Elaine, who looked very much like a woman who regretted every decision she’d made in the past twenty-four hours. If the tiny white parasol she clutched was any indication, Elaine had been thoroughly ready to leave the dreariness of Thorn Grove behind in favor of seaside living. Seeing her dread, Signa almost felt guilty for asking the woman to accompany her.
Almost.
“All it needs is a little elbow grease,” Signa pressed on, determined not to let the woman turn back while she had the chance.
Elaine took one look at the slate-gray stones and exhaled. “I’m afraid I haven’t got that many elbows, miss.”
Only Gundry seemed to favor the estate. His paws were caked with mud and bits of grass, and his tail wagged as he sniffed at the heels of the carriage driver who clambered from his post, pressing one hand over his cap to keep the wind from snatching it as he carried the last of the luggage into the manor and then toddled back out. Signa had never seen someone in such haste, more eager to leave than even the horses, which were stomping and huffing their disapproval as the driver rushed back to his seat. He gave Signa no opportunity to invite him inside until the storm passed but instead snapped the reins and hurried off down the path.
A crow cawed down at them from the manor’s tallest spire, and Elaine whispered a prayer.
Signa couldn’t blame her. “I’ll put an ad in the paper,” she decided aloud, turning toward Elaine with the widest smile she could manage. “I’m certain we’ll have a full staff to assist us in no time.”
Elaine made a low noise in the back of her throat that was likely meant to be agreement but sounded more akin to agony. “Aye, miss.”
Signa decided that if Elaine stuck around, the woman could have whatever position in the house she’d like. It wasn’t as though there would be any shortage of them. Foxglove appeared every bit as large as Thorn Grove, though it was both taller and narrower, with towering gray spires she was certain the town probably found cheery and not at all unsettling. And while she hadn’t gotten close enough to see what condition they were in beneath all the thriving greenery, there were stables, too, which would require a groom and stablemen once she gathered some horses. It was going to be more work than she ever imagined.
“We should hurry inside,” Elaine said, following Signa’s gaze. “We’ll be caught in the rain if we wait any longer.”
She was right, though Signa knew it was the cold clawing its way into her bones that Elaine truly wanted to get away from. While Signa had grown accustomed to such a chill, even her mortal body had its limits, and eventually there was no choice but to freeze or cross the last few steps into her new home.