6
I hurried down the passage. Miss Livingstone’s door flung open and the woman herself stepped out. “Miss Bradfern! Where are you going at this hour?”
I didn’t even turn to acknowledge her presence, but fled down the stairs and into the foyer. All was dark and quiet but for the storm that raged outside. I sprinted down the shadowed corridor and to the French doors. A sudden gust of wind sprung up and hit the entrances, forcing them open before me as though the storm itself was inviting me to my fate.
The rain pelted my face and soaked my coat, but I felt nothing but the fast beating of my heart in my chest. There was terrible anticipation mixed with some urgency that I couldn’t quite understand. I felt like I was late for some pre-appointed meeting, and I would only have one cha
