Furthermore, what made it worse for Fanny was an unexpected discovery she made about Miss Crawford. Some time after tea, Miss Crawford had excused herself, and Fanny incidentally happened to follow her into a corridor leading to the way to the kitchen.

Here, Miss Crawford ran into a female servant who carried a small washbasin on her way to perform cleaning chores. Just a few steps behind, unnoticed by the maid, came a strange shambling fellow with a terrible windblown complexion—reminding Fanny so much of the dreadful man she herself boxed on the face, but this one was definitely not the same man, even though he walked with the same telltale stiffness and momentarily bumped into a wall. All three of them—Miss Crawford, maid, fellow—paused.

“Pardon me, Miss,” said the maid. And then she noticed the man behind her, and gave a small squeal of alarm, nearly dropping her basin.

The man raised one hand and reached for her. It was the same exact motion, Fanny realized, as the one she had fought off. The same strange peculiarity. And as the maid froze, mesmerized by him, there was the same menace. . . .

But in that instant an even greater oddity took place.

Miss Crawford went as still and lifeless as a wooden thing, and, unlike the maid, she did not freeze. Instead, Miss Crawford hissed.

And then—as Fanny could see from her semi-concealed location down the corridor—Miss Crawford bared her teeth in a terrifying grimace, and her face became different somehow, dark and menacing, and her teeth, why, they were not dainty but long and sharp and inhuman, while her eyes, oh, they suddenly glowed red—

The man-creature stopped trying to reach the maid and backed away, slowly—as though conceding defeat to a far more powerful adversary. He then turned away and disappeared back where he came from.

Miss Crawford meanwhile slowly approached the maid (who remained dazed and still petrified in the same stance), and she drew forward, raised her own delicate hand to move away the maid’s small muslin collar and expose the throat, and leaned in, and—as Fanny watched in abject disbelief—she opened her mouth wide, unhinged her jaw beyond any imaging, and bit the maid on the neck.

And then, for several long seconds Miss Crawford proceeded to feed.

When she was done, the maid swayed in weakness, still dazed, and her neck held a red stain, as fine scarlet rivulets went running down the front of her apron. The wound was tiny, however, and miraculously appeared to close up in seconds.

Miss Crawford’s lips were stained deep rose red, and she wiped them delicately with her tongue, her face growing normal again—her normal charming self. And then, straightening her own clothing as though nothing happened, she was on her way to the powder room.