“Hello, Baxter.”
The quiet, slightly husky voice was as familiar to him as his own name. Startled, he swerved about and gaped.
“I was waiting for Coolidge to go on holiday,” the apparition continued. “I couldn’t take any chances of being recognized.” She loosened the hood of her mantle, dropping it to her shoulders. Reveling in the freedom from confinement, she shook out her luxurious red hair. “I never realized how difficult it was to be dead.”
“Vanessa.” He crossed the room in three strides and enveloped her in his arms. “Lord, I’m glad to see you! What the hell are you doing here?”
Vanessa gave a rich, throaty laugh and embraced her brother. “A mixed welcome, to say the least. Did you honestly think I’d stay away once I received your telegram? I left France the moment I could. I’ve been staying at an inn outside London.”
Baxter blinked, still shocked by the reality that Vanessa was actually here. “The telegram. Yes. Thank heavens I saved that address you sent me. Given the circumstances, I thought you had a right to know what had happened. I never expected you’d actually return to England—” He interrupted himself. “An inn? Why didn’t you come here? How long have you been in Sussex?”
“A little over a week. And, as I said, I couldn’t risk coming to Winsham, not until you were alone. Besides”—she caressed his cheek absently—“I wanted to do a little snooping on my own. Being dead has its advantages.”
“What are you talking about?” Baxter caught Vanessa’s hands in his.
“I’ve missed England,” she murmured, an odd light coming into her eyes. “I should have returned long ago.”
“You couldn’t. The consequences would have been dire.”
With a hollow laugh, Vanessa pulled away, strolling idly about the room. “The consequences could not have been more dire than what I’ve endured.”
Baxter squinted, looking—really looking—at Vanessa for the first time. “You look peaked, Ness.”
“Peaked?” She spun about, tugging open her mantle and spreading her arms wide. “Look at me, Baxter. I’m old. My face is pale, I’m gaunt, my eyes are lifeless.”
“You’re a young woman, for heaven’s sake!”
“In years, perhaps. In fact,” she said, smiling wearily, “I’m a very old woman. The fates have seen to that. I’m here because this could be the last chance I have.”
“What did your husband do to you?” Baxter demanded.
“Henri? Exactly what he promised he’d do when I ran off with him … except that he did it alone: lived hard and fast, spent money recklessly, traveled all over the world. What he also neglected to mention was that it was my money he would be gambling with, traveling with, frittering away … since he had not a penny to his name.”
“What about the great wealth he boasted?”
“The joke was on me, Baxter. I married Henri, went with him to France, for all he could offer me: a title, money, prominence. What I soon discovered was that those were the very things he planned to take from me.”
“He had nothing?”
“Oh, he had a title, for whatever good that did me. But he was penniless and powerless. And soon, so was I.”
“Your letters said nothing of this.”
“My letters were written under my husband’s watchful eye. I didn’t dare tell you the truth, or …” She shuddered, that hollow look coming back into her eyes.
“What has he done to you, Ness?” Baxter whispered, frightened by the change in his vivacious sister.
Wordlessly, Vanessa unbuttoned the top of her gown, yanking down a sleeve to bare one severely bruised, scarred shoulder to her brother’s horrified eyes. “This is just a sample of what the past six years have held for me.” She rebuttoned the gown. “Trust me, you don’t want to see the rest.”
“Dear God.” All the color drained from Baxter’s face. “Why did you stay?”
“He told me he would kill me if I left; that even if I managed to escape him, he would find me, and torture me.”
“Then how did you get away?”
“I stopped caring. Even death would be preferable to the hell that was my life. Your telegram was the motivation I needed. And here I am.”
“Ness …” He held out his arms.