Darkness came early that evening and when the unseen boy began to play noisily amongst the leaves and rush through the open windows with his dreary cries, I knew my night should be a restless one. The rain created a muddy retreat beneath the front windows and the rattling shutters welcomed the stormy breeze that disrupted Uncle Jeff's papers and tugged at Aunt Winnie's fawn locks. 

"You're still afraid of storms, niece?"

I glanced up at my uncle who was watching me with one of his amused smiles.

"No, not scared. Simply thoughtful."

"Ah, yes... thoughtful," there was the shuffling of his newspaper. "If I am not mistaken, you were dreading the hour your aunt and I should turn in for the night, thereby leaving you alone with the wind and rain for company. And seeing how you've settled yourself near the fire and are hugging your knees as you did during a storm when you were little, I must assume you still dread them." He laughed. "Yes, I can perhaps see far more than you'd like me to."

Aunt Winnie held up the sock she was mending.

"Oh, stop it, Mr. Browton an' leave her be. She's only just returned an' I won't have you teasing her tonight." She withdrew another sock from the basket at her feet. "You may start that tomorrow," and they laughed with childish glee.

"I'll have you know Eres Dacklefoy's done enough to test my patience for the day. But I can tolerate you both far better than I can him, and I'd very much rather hear your jests than the sad duet outside and the awful banging of the shutters."

Uncle arose from his armchair "Eres Dacklefoy, eh?" and was about to toss his papers into the grate.

"Jeff, how many times must I remind you that the papers are to be saved for the wrappin' of porcelain? I received a fine old set from Mrs. Dunnbury earlier today an' mean to give it to my good friend Ada Birch. Last time we spoke she said her youngest boy broke the one her late uncle had given her after his final voyage, so she'll be needin' another."

Her husband smiled, then turned to me. "Lia, could you put these papers away for my charitable wife who is most given to being charitable?"

"Yes, Uncle."

He disappeared and I heard the latching of shutters.

"Did I mention," he said when he'd returned, "what a lovely scarf you're wearing, Lia?"

Without thinking, I ran my fingers over the smooth fabric and smiled to myself. I hadn't realized I still wore it and was about to say a simple thank you when Aunt Winnie said,

"Where'd you get it, love? You most certainly weren't wearin' it when you left me on the path."

I observed Uncle Jeff's raised brow.

"Umm, no I wasn't. It was a gift."

"Oh, how lovely," said my aunt and to her husband, "An' you remember what Mrs. Ivanhallow said the last time she came up for a visit? That Lia is the exact mould of her father; of sound spirit an' mind that whoever crosses their paths are bound to respect and remember them hand an' foot!"

Then what of Ms. Cotts and Ms. Petruny, I was tempted to ask. They clearly weren't too fond of me. Pheobe Fiatson once said it was because they wished to control every girl that stepped within Bedlaam's halls. And as I was neither poor nor orphaned and was very well known throughout Gordorf due to our respectable family name, my very presence choked the air out of everything they stood for. I had dismissed Phoebe's words and gave her the silk ribbons from my hair to occupy that much too active brain of hers. For such a small child, she was in the habit of knowing things and what was worse, speaking of all she knew.

"You have yet to answer your aunt's question," said Uncle. There was a laughing gleam in his eye.

"It was from Eres," and avoiding my uncle's gaze, I gave it to my aunt who held out her hand expectantly.

"So you ran into Dacklefoy, did you? And what mischief has he gotten you into this time?"

"If you're referring to the time when I'd fallen into the swamp, Uncle, that was entirely Eres' fault," I said, turning up my nose. "The very idea of seeing a legendary single footed Gordsman was something every child in Gordorf would have been willing to witness. And I had been foolish enough to believe that Eres, of all people, had actually seen one... Silly me."

My Uncle chuckled. "Well, that has certainly been a learning lesson for you, hasn't it?"

"Indeed it was."

I seated myself upon the sofa.

"It has taught me to avoid the hilly swamps in case I should fall again and to never merely accept anything Eres Dacklefoy says, especially on my birthday or other special occasions."

"You've gotten some of it right but I would add that you aren't quick to believe everything anyone says."

There was a pause.

"Now, how about that scarf of yours?"

I shrugged. "What about it?"

"Well, it is a very fine scarf, dear," said my aunt, carefully, "an' it isn't everyday a young man can afford silk—without a reason."

Having examined the scarf also, Uncle leaned back and removed his spectacles.

"I reckon, young Dacklefoy must be mighty fond of his little dame to trouble himself in getting a bit of silk."

"Well as sure as Gordorf breathes! It was just a gift you two, and there is nothing else to it!" I ignored their exchanged smiles, and gazed blankly into the blaze which warmed my toes, my heart beating fast. Was there nothing else to his gift, then? He always gave me something whenever I visited Gordorf, for as long as I can remember, from rare shells to a bag of jam drops. Did the scarf hold some meaning?

I cursed myself for my flighty feeling and brought up the curious girl at Bedlaam.

"You've met her then?" my uncle inquired politely. He and my aunt had resumed their earlier tasks, only now he held a book in hand instead of the morning newspaper.

"Yes, well, I'd met her the evening of her arrival, didn't I tell you? No? Oh, yes, that's right, I had bedded down there and went to Papa the next morning. Well, let us say I happened to have really gotten acquainted with her today. Unfortunately I missed when she first came since I'd been helping Aunt Winnie at Aunt Ada's."

"What is she like?" said Aunt Winnie. "Ada had been in the lower parts with her boys earlier this week an' says she has never met such a solemn girl in all her years."

"I can agree with Auntie Ada; though a sweet creature she's rather withdrawn, avoids social gatherings and apparently enjoys talking to herself—according to...sources," I added at last. "Her name's Quistelle, by the way."

Aunt Winnie glanced at me with a frown.

"That's a queer name in these parts."

"It's rumoured that she's from the mountains," said Uncle Jeff, turning a page from his book. "Has she confirmed it?"

"I didn't remember to ask. But she does appear to be... different."

"How so?"

"The most peculiar feature she has are her eyes! They're like pure gold—pretty once one gets used to them, I'm sure but unusual nonetheless. Quite like the eyes of some strange beast in those old fairy tales Papa used to read to me. And now that I think of it, her eyes were not gold at all earlier today..."

Uncle Jeff laughed. "Sounds like someone's been having strange dreams."

"Uncle, I'm serious." I thought for a minute. "But perhaps I was seeing things. After all, it was poorly lit that night. Fine, here's another one for you, she runs."

"Runs?" said my aunt. "Plenty of people run, dear, so I don't see anythin' strange about that."

"No, no, no this isn't your idea of running, Aunt Winnie, believe me. She runs unlike anything I've seen a girl capable of. She's fast. There's something... unnatural about it."

She laughed. "Lia, love, it's normal for children to run an' play an' shout an' tumble about–healthy even! So just leave her be."

"Goodness, she isn't as young as that! She can't be any younger than Marge or Miss Partridge, I'm sure!"

They both looked in my direction and I couldn't tell whether it was in surprise or disbelief. Aunt Winnie broke the silence.

"Remember what you said earlier today? About the children's treatment of her the day she came to Bedlaam? Do they treat her differently now that it's been two weeks? Surely they've gotten to know something of her."

"I don't know. I was in such a hurry to get back that I didn't wait to see how they'd behave. The girls had gone for their walk when I'd arrived and she was out doing... chores...," I frowned as the last word slid off my tongue.

Tats for rats! I should have known something was wrong. Why was she doing chores while they were out for their walk? Had they bothered to invite her at all? It would have been the polite thing to do since they all had gone. Or had they asked her to join them and she refused? After all, it was said that she preferred solitude, but she had appeared so pleased with my company, that I was compelled to believe otherwise.

"I think," my uncle was saying, "that we should very much like to meet your friend, Lia. You must invite her to tea sometime and she is to stay through dinner if she likes."

I smiled, but remembered what Eres had said earlier and battled with whether I should inform my hosts of this news. My uncle must have noticed the expressions that stormed over my features because he rapped his knuckles on the arm of his chair.

"Hullo, hullo, earth to Lia, where has my niece wandered to?"

"You're lookin' a little strained, dear."

Might as well be out with it.

"Have you heard the recent rumours circling the lower parts?"

"You mean the one where most shops are found open in the middle of the night?"

"So you've heard, then?"

"Of course I have. Not much happens in the lower country that goes by the upper, same in the reverse. And though we are, shall I say, not as gullible and naive as our lower cousin, we in upper Gordorf do share the concerns of our neighbor."

"Malia, please stop tuggin' on your dress an' lookin' so thoughtful, and tell us what's botherin' you. I hate to see you so distressed."

"I am not distressed."

"Simply thoughtful, eh?"

I shot him a reproachful look then sighed.

"People think she's responsible for the break-ins," I said quietly. "But I don't! No, not for a minute! If you had seen her for yourselves you wouldn't believe it. She doesn't have one indecent bone in her thin little body—I know it, I can just feel it! Oh, I'll prove it. Straight I will!"

Uncle Jeff nodded approvingly. "You don't believe everything  you're told, Lia Malstoyke, and of that I'm proud."

I returned his smile. Aunt Winnie had tidied her basket and came over to my chair.

"Now, I believe it's high time you went off to bed," she said, placing her warm lips on my forehead.

"You have plenty of work to do tomorrow."

*          *          *

The next few days I spent lingering about Bedlaam observing Quistelle while keeping a good distance between us lest she suspect me of spying. Strangely enough, she went about her day quickly and gracefully as if I were not even present; whenever she did notice me she'd simply stare with those lovely doe eyes, not giving as much as a wave or smile. She never made an attempt to engage me in conversation. I often wondered if she kept her distance out of respect for Marge who, for some reason, kept by my side during this time, often ignoring the remarks of her friends.

"Say, there's talk of the Brastins hosting an evening party at their home in a few days," she said one afternoon during one of our mushroom hunts.

I never truly participated in the search of the detestable fungus plants but had occasioned to go along to keep an eye on Quistelle whom Ms. Cotts made certain joined the group of ladies on their quest. Marge, like myself, never partook in the collecting of shrooms, only waving a pale white hand whenever she saw one that went unnoticed by her 'blind blinked companions'.

"They're so dimwitted at times I wonder how they shall ever find decent husbands."

I managed to take my eyes off of Quistelle for a minute. "Marge! What a naughty thing to say. Surely you don't mean it?"

She gave what I can only assume to be her grownup laugh.

"You're such an innocent sweet, aren't you?" She studied me, cocking her head so that her black braids dangled to one side. "Everyone has a right to their opinions, don't you think?"

"I most certainly agree, but not all need to be voiced. I believe most of them ought to be held back if possible and only those which can be helpful should have their light when the time is due."

She chuckled again in a pitying way.

"Your intellect is narrowed by your inability to be blunt and honest even when your words may be cruel to whom it is given, Malia."

She shrugged.

"However, you are firm in what you believe to be polite and courteous–a weakness of mine, I daresay–whereas I'm driven by what is most profitable to my own cause, even if it means allowing someone else to suffer. One mustn't always sacrifice their needs and desires for others, not even for those they love. Most times we must take rather than give or else we are left with the scraps of those who were brave enough to do their duty and take for themselves."

I detected a cold firmness to her tone. Her thin lips were set while her black eyes focused on the girl who was intent on filling her basket with some mushrooms she found near a fallen tree stump. I smiled. She studied each find with the air of a scientist who's made some outstanding discovery.

Marge shuddered and turned on her heels. Looking over at her group, she gave an exhale of impatience.

"What's the matter with you lot? Haven't any of you eyes or brain? Ammie, can you not see that one at your heel? And you Susan, you're passing a whole clump of them! Harriet, are you honestly telling me you couldn't see them?!"

She then turned to me, her face cool and composed.

"We were speaking of the Brastins, were we not?"

It always disturbed me how Marge Finnicktoff could shift her emotions so rapidly. Her temper wasn't one to be taken lightly.

"Have you intentions on going?" she said scanning the ground as we went. "I'd expect you to, a woman of your position ought to accept an invitation from people most consider 'highly respectable'." Her tone was a sneering one

"You forget I haven't received an invitation."

She pulled a slip of paper from her sleeve and handed it to me.

"They've invited all the girls of course, as they do every year," she said with an eye roll which made her look pretty for an instant.

"It is only right that you go," she went on.  "And I'm sure they will be delighted that you came even though their silly daughters forgot to send for you."

I glanced over the small note.

"Marge, this letter is addressed to you."

"Yes, yes, it is, but I never liked the Brastins, you see, and don't mean to attend their dull parties so that their proud-nosed girls can mock my simple ways and plain clothes. My father was a rich man once, and no one would have dared to snob a Finnicktoff."

This was the way of Marge and rumor had it that all the Finnicktoffs were proud and snobbish. I often wonder what a male version of her would have been like...

But no. I'd rather not know.

She suddenly smiled to herself, which didn't bode well with me. I'd seen that look before and knew she was already cooking mischief in that busy head of hers.

"Marge, don't for pity's sake!"

"Don't what?" she said, fixing me with an innocent stare.

"You're planning some mischief, I know it."

She looked at me for a moment then smiled in amusement.

"Ever the observer, Malstoyke. Ever the observer."

In Marge fashion, she dismissed me without a word and headed towards her group. Violet Partridge appeared  at my side.

"She's up to something isn't she?"

"Isn't she always?" I muttered as I tucked the slip of parchment into my glove. "Have you plans to go to Mr. and Mrs. Brastin's party?"

"It's for the twins," she said. "Arienne and Gwendalyn's birthday party. And I suppose I shall. They've asked me personally to be there... I just hope Ms. Petruny won't object."

"It would be wrong of her to do any such thing."

I hadn't meant to sound so harsh as I wasn't usually so, but recalling what Ms. Laggsby said some days before and Marge's words still fresh on my mind, I was compelled to be frank.

"If she should in any way prevent your going I shall come round and put in a word or two. Ms. Petruny hates it when I put in some words. Besides," I dusted my dress, "Mr. Henfield is going to be there so you simply must come." I didn't have to look at her to know her cheeks were red as radishes.

"He's a gentleman," she managed to say at last.

"Yes, and you are the daughter of a gentleman. And in that you both are the same."

"Why have you been following, Quistelle?" she asked suddenly. She smiled, "Don't be so surprised. I've noticed though no one else has. Do you suspect her of something?"

"No! No, I don't. I just want to know what she's like when she thinks no one's watching."

"So you do suspect her of something? Oww!" She yanked her arm away. "Lia! Why did you pinch me?"

"Keep your voice down! She's not to know what I'm doing."

I turned to face her. "Now, what do you know so far? Don't look so blankly at me, I know you've seen or heard something by how you questioned me a minute ago. Come on then, out with it!"

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and ran a pink tongue over her lips.

"Well,... there is something, but I doubt it's of any importance but I'll leave you to judge the strange occurrences for yourself."

"Yes, yes, go on," I said with a touch of impatience.

She took a deep breath.

"I have been restless these past few days and find it difficult to sleep at night."

I nodded.

"Well, five nights ago there was movement in the house and I thought nothing much of it until I heard it again a few minutes later. I slipped downstairs to take a look and can you guess what I found?"

I shook my head holding my breath.

"The side door opened! There was nothing else—no one else! I quietly shut the door and bolted it too, then out of curiosity, I searched the house for clues. You can imagine how shaken I was, especially with all this talk about some unseen stranger breaking into shops and homes! Well, I checked the girls' rooms first, saving Quistelle's for last because she sleeps alone at the very top. Nothing was out of place in the whole house. Eventually, I reached the topmost room and turned the handle. And what a fright I had when I saw her staring at me with eyes like gold! She was sitting up in her window bed just watching me, oh, Lia I have to admit that I was frightened of her! There is something... eerie about her, especially after dark."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"Not at first, she just looked at me. Then she said, and here's when I was really frightened: 'Have you come to chain me up again?' and she sounded so sad and ghostly, especially with the wind howling and the rain slashing at the panes."

"It was raining?"

She nodded.

Was I right to assume it was the very night Quistelle predicted rain? Curious....

"I apologised for entering before knocking," she continued, "and it wasn't until she said 'but I have been good, have I not?' that I realized she was sleeping! I went and took a good look at her but she didn't budge. I helped her settle down and it was during this that I heard the noise downstairs again. But when I went down, everything was as I left it."

"Have you told anyone?"

She shook her head.

"And have them create a riot under Mrs. Ivanhallow's roof? Not I! Didn't even tell Ms. Cotts or Ms. Petruny knowing they'd go over their heads."

"How long has this been going on?"

She hesitated before answering. "It started a week after she came, twice that week I've heard the noises within the house, yet each time I went to look, I found nothing. The most recent one was that which I've just mentioned. I thought you should know," she said after a pause.

"They're all going back to the house now," she said, breaking into my thoughts. "We should get going." She took up her basket.

"Yes, we should, I just—" and glancing about, I saw no sign of Quistelle.

"Phoebe!" I called as she skipped by. "Has Quistelle gone back to the house?"

Her handsome braids were coiled atop her head. She stared at me with those startling green eyes.

"It isn't likely that she did," she said, scratching her elbow. "She's always the last one in."

"Go on without me then. I'll find her."

Violet hesitated a minute then left me. Here's my chance, I thought as I began my trek in the woods. I must learn something and the only way to do that, is to catch her by unawares.