Page 34 of Ghostly

“Can’t you? She’s just picky, Harry. Spoiled. And she’s twenty-five. If you knew what was good for her, you’d choose a man and get her engaged.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit backward?”

“If it works for people richer than us…” Jacinda’s voice descended into a murmur. Harry said something, and then Jacinda again, “Or are you afraid they’ll find out?”

“I know how to circle around the issue. Yes, some people think Ida strange, but they wouldn’t say she’s not right in the head.”

“What, then? I’ll never be able to host a dinner or a party because Ida could do something strange?” Jacinda’s voice was near hissing. “Will you let us slip to the bottom of our social class because ofherproblems?”

Ida removed the glass and clutched it in her hand. She blinked, but tears still came rolling down her cheeks. Before Jacinda came, life wasn’t perfect, either, but at least her own existence didn’t make her nervous. Harry had been used to her eccentricities—not in a way where he accepted them, but he’d learned to mostly ignore them. Jacinda, however, was nervous around Ida, and in turn, Ida only felt worse around her sister-in-law.

She forced herself to put the glass back up, since Jacinda was still talking.

“There are other places that can help her.”

Ida shook her head. What did she miss?

“You cannot be serious,” Harry said.

“Think about it. She’s clearly uncomfortable here…”

Because of you!

“…and there are people trained to deal with problems such as she has.”

Only silence from Harry.

“She’s getting nervous, erratic. It’s turning into a full-blown hysteria. And… I don’t want to say such things, but she could be a danger to us and herself. The other day, I found her turning the stove on and off! Something could’ve happened!”

“She’s always done things like that.”

“And you never bothered to have it checked. She could’ve been well by now. Cured.” After a short pause, Jacinda continued, “I talked to a doctor at Plethbury’s.”

“That’s a mental hospital.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying. I didn’t tell him any names, only spoke, hypothetically, of the problem. They can help her. But as her brother, you’ll have to submit her.”

“We don’t need to go to such lengths.”

“Harry…” Jacinda’s voice had grown so quiet Ida could barely hear it. “We can’t live like this. If she’d gotten married, that would be a problem for her husband. But since she’s well on a path to spinsterhood, it’s our responsibility.Yours.” More silence.

“Fine,” Harry said. “I’ll go talk to him tomorrow.” A bit more murmuring, and then things in the adjacent bedchamber settled down.

Unlike Ida, who paced her room, from the nook to her bed, to the fireplace, over and over and over again. A mental hospital. Jacinda wanted to stick her into an asylum. Harry may object for now, but Jacinda held too much sway over him; eventually, she’d wear him down. Because as much as he tried to brush it off and pretend it was an “eccentricity”, deep down Harry, too, thought Ida wasn’t right in the head. He’d give in, and she’d end up in some dreary building with faded walls and bars on the windows. No, no windows, no sun, and her skin would get pale and translucent until they could see underneath it, every vein, every muscle—

Ida put a fist to her mouth and bit.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One,two, three.

She wouldn’t let them. Jacinda wouldn’t stick her someplace Ida couldn’t bother her, just because she was afraid of her. And she wouldn’t let anyone poke and prod her.

In a flash, the decision was made. Ida changed to a rusty brown walking dress, packed a few necessities into a small valise and scoured the drawer for her meager allowance. It was enough to get her out of the town, and fromthere, she’d figure things out as she went along. After all, she was a grown woman, not some hysterical mess, as Jacinda painted her to be.

If she’d stopped to reconsider, she’d maybe realize the middle of the night wasn’t the best time to make an escape, especially when said escape was through the window; Jacinda had begun locking her room a few weeks prior, being worried about Ida sleepwalking and causing an accident with her behavior.

But Ida hadn’t stopped; not when she tossed the valise out the window, not as she swung over the frame and felt for the trellis overgrowing that side of the house; not when she was a few feet down and the vines she was holding onto snapped, and she went hurling toward the ground.

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