Whitley is so large that I find I’m perpetually lost. Somehow, I find myself outside of Eleanor’s study today, and I hear her voice coming from within. Reaching out to grip the doorknobs, I pause because she doesn’t seem happy. With the door already cracked, I can hear the words loud and clear. “She’s not well, Eleanor,” Sabine says in her creaky voice. “She needs rest and solitude, I fear.” “Then she’ll get it here at Whitley,” Eleanor says impatiently. “I don’t see the reason for your concern.” “She’s lost everything,” Sabine offers. “And you don’t offer her anything but shelter. Perhaps if you would just tell her…” “Tell her what?” Eleanor snaps. “Remind her that…” “Haven’t you heard it’s impolite to eavesdrop?” Dare steps around me, studying me curiously. He’s handsome, he’s enigmatic, he’s in my personal space.
