“Did you just make a threat to Miss Caroline’s person in front of a police officer, Ms. Mordue?” Patrick asked.
She shrugged. “A warning.”
He stepped toward her, his expression cool, unyielding. “Funny, it sounded like a threat to me. That’ll be going in my report.”
He brushed past Roane to step into the house, and Roane gestured to us to follow. Caro let go of my hand, and I was so proud of her as she walked past her aunt, ignoring the way the woman stared at her as if she were the serpent in the Garden of Eden. As for me, my skin crawled as I moved past her. I’d forever associate the smell of rosewater with this woman. It was unnerving how normal she seemed for someone who had no soul. Of course, normal went out the window when she started threatening people with the devil. There was nothing I detested more than people who twisted religion to suit their agenda.
The front door led into a large hallway big enough to fit a reading area. There was a doorway on either side of us, and a doorway behind the reading nook.
“Take Caro to get her things.” Roane gestured to the door behind the reading nook.
I nodded to Caro to show me the way, concerned by her paleness. Despite her obvious distress, she kept her chin held high as she led me to the dark wooden door. “Watch your step,” she murmured as she opened it.
Three small stairs led down into a dark corridor. From the outside the cottage was cute, but inside . . . I shuddered. It was gloomy, dreary, and did not have a good vibe. That pang echoed in my chest again at the thought of Caro spending most of her life here. She turned right and led me to a door at the end of the hall.
Her room was surprisingly bright. A large wooden-framed window allowed a lot of light in despite the surrounding trees outside. The walls were covered in old-fashioned ivory wallpaper with little blue birds all over it. There was a white Shaker-style bedside cabinet to match the dresser, armoire, and single bed.
The floorboards were old and a little warped.
It was a pretty room in the summer, but I could only guess at how cold it was during the winter.
Caro opened a cupboard door on the wall opposite the window and pulled out an old leather suitcase.
“What can I do?” I asked.
She blinked rapidly as if she’d forgotten I was there. “I can manage. I’m not taking much.”
True to her word, she only packed underwear, socks, and an extra pair of shoes, and removed a mere two outfits from the armoire. “I . . .” She glanced up at me shyly. “Things are moving so quickly, and I know I shouldn’t try to do too much at once, but I think I’d like some new clothes.”
I gave her a small smile. “We could make a day or two of it. Maybe go to Newcastle to shop.”
Caro nodded and then picked up the picture frame sitting on her bedside cabinet. “My mother and father,” she whispered, placing it gently in her case.
According to Roane they hadn’t been much in the way of parents, but I’m sure they were a far sight better than her aunt Helena.
When Caro dropped to her knees by the floor at the window, I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Her small, elegant hands pried at the floorboards, and to my surprise two boards gave way. She reached into the hole in the floor and pulled out a large shoebox. I stepped forward and peered in as Caro removed the lid. Inside was what looked like a journal, a pile of comic books, and to my surprise, three historical romance paperbacks. They looked like they’d been read many, many times.
Caro smiled tremulously. “My contraband.”
I crouched beside her, incredibly sad that a twenty-two-year-old woman had to hide these things. My fingers brushed the cover of one of the books. “You’re a romance fan.”
Her cheeks flushed a lovely rosy color. “They’re wonderful escapism.”
“They are,” I agreed.
“One of the first things I’m going to do once I have access to my accounts is buy an e-reader and just stock it full of romance novels.”
She sounded so young in that moment, it broke my heart a little. Her aunt had kept her in a perpetual state of confusion—repression versus teenage rebellion. Caro hadn’t been given the chance yet to become an adult. I shrugged off my sadness because she was still so young, and it was happening now. Her life was about to change for the better. I’d called Penny in the early hours of the morning, knowing it was early evening for her in Melbourne, and asked permission to allow Caroline to stay in the second bedroom until we could find her a more permanent situation. Penny, unsurprisingly, had been all for it.