Servant girl? Well, whoever he was, Mary wasn’t going to be called a servant. She marched into the bedroom, intending to give him a piece of her mind. There was a solid carved wooden bed with curtains draped at the back of it, two bedside tables, a reading stand, and a table and chairs. The boy lying in bed was wearing a vest and was propped up against some pillows. He looked just a little older than her. His brown hair fell across his forehead and his skin was very pale, as if he hadn’t seen sunlight for a long time. Mary’s attention was particularly caught by his dark eyes. They didn’t look like a child’s eyes—they were intense and wary.

“I’m no servant!” Mary exclaimed indignantly. “My name is Mary Lennox. My mother was twin sister to the mistress of this house and my uncle by marriage owns it still and you’ll do well to give me the respect I’m due!”

“I’ll give you none!” the boy declared just as haughtily. “I am Colin Craven. The uncle you speak of is my father, and if I were to live, this place would one day belong to me.”

Mary felt a rush of shock. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

“We’re . . . cousins?” she said, not quite able to believe it.

The boy’s eyes flicked back to hers. He studied her for a moment, and then a half smile pulled at his lips and he gave a brief nod.

“But I’ve never heard of you!” Mary said in astonishment.

“Nor I you,” said the boy.

Mary had a feeling her cousin was as surprised as she was, but he was trying to be grown up and hide it.

“You’re very thin,” he said judgmentally.

“You’re very white,” responded Mary.

“You smile with no teeth,” Colin challenged her.

“You don’t smile at all!” retorted Mary.

“Why are you here?” demanded Colin.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” said Mary defiantly.

Colin gave her a warning look. “I don’t want a friend.”

“Good. I’ve plenty already,” said Mary, shrugging.

She took a breath, and then a laugh burst out of her. She couldn’t help it. This new cousin might be rather strange and very prickly, but it felt miraculous to be talking properly to someone her own age! Colin’s lips twitched into a brief smile too, and she had a feeling he was enjoying their conversation as much as she was.

“So you’re the one who cries out at night,” said Mary, drawing closer. “I thought it was a ghost, that this house was cursed—”

“You think this house is cursed?” interrupted Colin.

Mary nodded. “Yes, by all the soldiers who died here.”