Josie's shoes clacked on the marble floor as she hurried down the hallway into the foyer. Reaching the stairs, she paused and looked at the entry door. If she could get it to open and slip outside, perhaps she could flag down a passing carriage—

"You're getting warmer. It's to the right, past the stairs to the conservatory." Ezra grinned from the hallway.

The girl thrust her hands in her pockets and turned on her heels. "Yes, thank you."

What was his problem? They'd just met, and he was already treating her like someone to be ordered around. Don't touch this or follow that. And the familiar way he looked at her, smiling and winking. How ill mannered!

"You're getting warmer," Josie wrinkled her nose, mimicking the young man as she turned after the stairs toward the conservatory.

Conservatory. What a peculiar word. What were they conserving, anyhow? Wasn't the space for gardening? Josie scoffed. And why couldn't the gentry refer to it by any one of its less fancy names? Sunroom, greenhouse, or winter garden would all suffice.

A sweet fragrance hit her nose as she rounded the last corner. The air also became a few degrees warmer and more humid. When she stepped over the manor's threshold, Josie squinted from the sight.

There was no need for candles here. The three walls were made of clear, glass panes held up by a web of steel beams. Painted a light green, this intricate structure helped make the room bright even on such a cloudy day. The entire roof was glass, too, but instead of being colorless, the ceiling was comprised of a breathtaking rainbow of stained hues.

The ground level was no less vibrant.

Raised beds of roses – blooming in reds, pinks and whites – ran alongside a curving path made of effervescent mosaic tile. Orange and lemon trees – full of ripe fruit – grew out of large tubs also dotting the room. In the center, a bubbling fountain flowed into a lily pad filled pond.

Crouching at the water's edge, Josie touched the cold surface. Concentric circles rippled outward, and small, golden fish scattered about from below.

Ca-caw!

Josie wobbled at the harsh sound, nearly falling into the water. Instinctively hopping to her feet, she barely avoided colliding with the raven – like those at the Tower – flying across the room.

Waving her hands above her head, she ducked. "Shoo, shoo."

The bird, however, was unfazed, swooping so low Josie could feel the air disturbed by the flap of its wings. Following it upward with her eyes, she watched as it effortlessly slid through an opening in the glass and flew outside.

Straightening up again, the girl took a deep breath and smoothed out her cloak. Perhaps the animal was right. She should stop dallying and also be on her way. Finding the door to the garden directly underneath the bird's own little exit, Josie stepped out onto the gravel path.

The weather felt just as uninviting as it looked from inside. The air was heavy with a cold mist, reducing visibility to just a few dozen feet. The eerie, white haze enveloped everything beyond this immediate radius. Only the black trunks and branches of tall trees in the distance stood out, like huge skeletons emerging from the fog.

Josie pulled her cloak closer to her body and hastened her steps. The crunch of her shoes on the small, wet pebbles accompanied her every move. The echoes in the otherwise deathly quiet garden made it seem as if she were being followed.

Briefly considering whether to turn back, the girl continued to trudge on. It was just a morning walk, plain and simple. She'd have no qualms if it was the middle of summer and the sun was shining brightly. Why would it be any different now?

Ca-caw!

The raven's screech made her walk even faster past the neglected boxwoods and empty flowerbeds. As she focused straight ahead, movement in the nearby tree line caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Without slowing, she turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of something dark dart among the trees.

She could handle tiny fish and obnoxious birds, but Josie had an aversion to any animal bigger – and hairier – than an invisible cat. And whatever was in that forest, it was definitely more ominous than an imaginary feline.

Josie's heart began to beat faster and her breathing accelerated. The cool air burned her lungs, and her vision became blurry. Was it just a fox? A stray dog, perhaps? Did wolves live in this part of England, she wondered. Certain she'd soon lose consciousness, it was quite fortuitous she came upon Great Aunt Donatella at that exact moment.

The woman – once again dressed in head-to-toe black – stood at the fog's precipice with her back turned. In spite of no sun, she held a black parasol above her head in one hand. In the other, she cradled a bouquet of red roses.

"Good morning, my dear," she greeted the girl without facing her.

Josie furrowed her brows before coming to a realization. Her loud steps must have given her away.

"Good morning, Donatella." She huffed breathlessly, stopping ten paces behind her aunt and not knowing what else to say. She'd been so preoccupied with her surroundings while getting to this point, Josie didn't even think about a topic of conversation. Hoping Donatella would break the silence, the girl silently waited.

Her eyes widened with terror, however, when the woman took a step forward and dropped – literally – out of view.

Running to the spot where her aunt had stood, Josie extended her arms to steady herself as she came to an abrupt halt. Peering over the edge of the previously unseen cliff, she saw nothing but white fog down below.

What just happened? Where did she go? Josie's body began to shake as her mind replayed the ominous scene from a few seconds earlier.

"Donatella!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "Do-na-tel-la!" Josie drew out each syllable as she peered into oblivion, but there was just quiet. The seconds dragged, and only the wind whispered in response.

Biting her lip to keep from crying, Josie shuffled closer to the edge, hoping to see something that wasn't there before.

"Turn around, Josie." The calm voice willed her to retreat. Doing as told, the girl came face-to-face with the woman who, on all accounts, should have been lying dead at the bottom of the deep ravine. Instead, Great Aunt Donatella was standing a body length away – as perfect and beautiful as ever – but no longer holding her parasol or roses.

Opening her mouth, Josie screamed until the world went black.