Vigil sneaked back across the wide yard toward the manor. She was surprised to see the sun peeking out from the horizon, and hurried to get back in bed. She slipped through the front door and nearly screamed when a dark figure appeared next to her.

"You can't stay out this late," Margaret hissed. "The Viscount will be up in an hour."

Vigil hardly heard her. "Why didn't you tell me about the new gardener?"

"Mr. Lancaster?" The maid asked. "I didn't think you would care."

"You know me," She said, then grinned mischeviously. "And I'm sure you've seen him before."

"He isn't the most unsightly man in London," Margaret giggled, then her eyes widened. "Wait, how do you know what he looks like?"

"Later," Vigil said. "Now I need to get to bed—"

I won't stop until you give up. The voice rattled inside her brain, and she suddenly found herself on the floor, doubled over. I won't stop until you give up. Jump.

Margaret rushed down to help her up, and Vigil gritted her teeth against a scream.

"Let's get you back to your room," She heard her saying. "We don't want you caught in your party dress."

I won't stop until you jump. The voice started chanting.

Vigil stumbled up the carpeted staircase, Margaret supporting her. They stepped inside her bedroom and she helped her out of the dress. The voices had quieted a little, had faded.

"Can you find a time for me to sneak downstairs to meet him?" Vigil said as she brushed out the hairspray.

"Mr. Lancaster actually isn't living in the servants' hall." Margaret said, pulling her nightgown from the wardrobe.

"Then where?" Vigil asked innocently.

She shook her head and pulled the gown over her head. "I don't know, only that he doesn't live here."

Vigil sighed in disappointment and crawled under her sheets. "Tell him I look forward to seeing him again."

Margaret didn't answer, only switched off the lights. "Try to get some sleep, Vigil."

~~~~~

Vigil's glass of punch was nearly empty after seven refills. She was still scanning the gardens during her mother's brunch party, looking for the new gardener.

A great aunt was busy telling Vigil about a new hat she received, and she didn't bother attempting to look interested. She gulped down the rest of the punch and nodded overly politely at the old woman.

She craned her neck at the house, when she suddenly spotted a mop of sandy brown hair in the study window.

"Excuse me, Aunt Marge. I think I need the loo." Vigil said vaguely, wandering over to the window.

She tossed the punch glass over her shoulder and knelt under the open window, listening. Her father was there, too, and they were talking.

"... care for a drink?" Albert said, and she heard glass clinking.

"That's very kind, but I probably shouldn't." James' voice now.

"How are you faring since you arrived?" Albert said.

"Perfectly," James said. There seemed to be a slight edge to his voice, like he felt guilty of something. "I'm getting along perfectly with the staff."

"You do know you're entirely welcome to stay downstairs with everyone else. There is food and and a bed and all the necessities."

"Thank you, but I prefer to stay on my boat. Besides, I don't want to move now."

"Are you not keeping this job?"

"No, actually," James' tone had an edge of pride. "I'm hoping to get a job as a jazz singer soon."

"I like a young man that wants to make something of himself," The Viscount said admirably. "I have a feeling I'll like you, Lancaster."

"Thank you, sir."

After a long pause, her father dropped his voice. "I have something to tell you, something you mustn't tell anyone if you are to work here."

"Anything, sir," James didn't seem uneasy in the least.

"It's about my daughter. She... isn't well."

Vigil pursed her lips, listening.

"Your daughter, sir?" According to his tone, nothing could have happened last night.

"Just know that she is... a bit comical. If you see her acting strangely, you must get her to her bedroom immediately and not tell anyone but Eleanor and I of it. Understand?"