She smiled at him sadly. “I'm so happy that you have Emme. But be careful of Elise. She hates you both."
"I know. Is what she said possible, that she could harm Emme?” Melisande didn't speak, but the stare she leveled at him was answer enough. Yes. Elise could make good on her threats.
"I've missed you, Lis,” he said softly, using the shortened form of her name that she'd hated as a child.
She smiled back briefly, but was serious again when she spoke. “The footprints in the hallway are here because he is looking for something. You mustn't give up until you find it."
She was gone. In an instant, she simply ceased to be. He fell to his knees, his heart racing and his breath rasping heavily. Was it possible that he had just seen her, that his long-dead sister had just appeared after two decades? He raked his hands through his hair and pressed his fingers against his burning eyes. He hadn't wept for her. Though he'd been only a child, he had not wept when she died. He had borne his grief as stoically as his father had demanded.
The old hurt burned in him and a new one blossomed as he realized that she had known that. She had seen it. She'd been in the house watching what her death had done to them all and how they had all responded to it. He sighed heavily, and let his head drop forward. The weight of that realization was heavy to bear.
The sun emerged from behind the clouds and light streamed in through the window behind him and the carpet in front of him glittered. Rhys reached forward and brushed his hand over the rug until he felt it. The gold cravat pin had been nestled deep into the fringed hem of the carpet, perhaps crushed under someone's boot. It was a simple pin, like those he'd been given as a young man. He held it to the light and the small diamond winked in the light. Initials were engraved upon it, but they were so small he couldn't discern them. Was this what the killer had been looking for, he wondered? Had Melisande somehow led him to it?
He placed the pin in his pocket and rose from the floor, his heart and his mind heavy. He headed toward the sanctity of his study, where he could be alone with his thoughts and commune with spirits of an altogether different variety.
Emme found Rhys in the library only a short time later. He was sitting in a chair before the fireplace, staring into the flames, with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. An empty brandy snifter was on the floor beside him, a half-empty decanter set beside it.
Her eyebrows rose of their own accord as she sought out the clock above the mantel. They were still more than an hour away from noon. “Has the morning been that difficult?"
He didn't respond verbally, but he did reach down and lift the decanter. He refilled his glass as she watched. It wasn't the normal finger or two of brandy she'd seen him imbibe after dinner. He liberally filled the glass. “It has been eventful,” he said finally.
Both curious and alarmed, Emme crossed the room and seated herself on the ottoman in front of him. He started to raise the glass to his lips but she laid her hand over his.
He sighed. “I am not a drunkard, wife."
"I didn't say that you were, but I think you are troubled."
He placed the glass back on the floor and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees until their faces were only inches apart. “How old were you the first time you encountered a spirit?"
It was an odd question, especially from Rhys.
"I don't remember a time when I wasn't aware of them. They were like shadows, vague and indistinct, but always there. It wasn't until I was older that my nocturnal journeys began. Of course, having waking conversation with them has only started since I came here."
He stared at her for a moment, searching her face, her eyes. “If we have children, will they see them as well?"
Emme felt a shiver of apprehension at his questions. Was he having regrets? “It is impossible to say. Many people in my family have gifts, but there are many who do not.” The fear crept into her voice, when she asked, “Why are you asking these questions, Rhys? What has happened?"
He shook his head. “I think—no, I know. I know that I saw Melisande this morning."
It was not what Emme had anticipated that he would say. Rhys was so very adamant that such events could not occur. “You saw her? Did she speak to you?"
He nodded. “I went to the southern wing this morning. It had been the portion of the house that Elise preferred to use for entertaining, when she wasn't up in that bloody tower. Unfortunately, there have been other, very worldly, visitors to that wing. There were footprints, numerous sets, in the corridor. Apparently our villain is searching for something."
He pulled the cravat pin from the pocket of his waistcoat and held it out. “I think this may have been what he was looking for."