The morning light came into her room soft and filtered ; the night's storm had left behind a veil of fog. Morganne awoke early and, though she did not feel rested, dressed herself and went downstairs.

In the foyer she was greeted by another maid, a plump, matronly woman with the unfortunate name of Bess Grossman. She led Morganne into the kitchen and began fixing a breakfast for her.

"The family take their breakfast in the formal dining room at 8 o'clock," Bess informed Morganne. "It is up to you whether you prefer to dine with the family, or eat early as you are doing now and use the rest of the morning to plan your lessons." Bess set a plate of food in front of Morganne, then turned back to the stove to continue cooking breakfast for the family. "You may be a governess, Miss Casey, but I must warn you, you will probably be asked to take on other duties more befitting a housemaid."

"Oh? Is there so much work?" Morganne asked, then quickly added, "I don't mean to sound impudent. This is a very large house. But surely, between you and Miss McGregor-"

"Ah yes, Miss McGregor." Bess pursed her lips. "Suffice it to say that she does not make herself as useful as she should."

"I must admit she did not make the best impression on me when she brought me to my room last night."

"She is more interested in her fine surroundings, and perhaps the occasional handsome visitor, than in her duties. Oh, and of course parties. How she loves parties!" Bess shook her head.

"If you will forgive my directness, Mrs. Grossman, why has she not…" Morganne trailed off.

"Been dismissed?" Bess volunteered.

"Yes."

Bess seemed hesitant to reply. "Mr. Collins… Well, I am not privy to his thoughts. I'm sure he is frustrated with Lucy. But his reluctance to let her go is understandable. We have trouble finding and keeping help. I'm sure you've heard the ghost stories. Yes, you may hear odd noises or see strange figures. Many a girl has been hired on, only to flee the house months or even weeks later because she's been affrighted. Lucy is not to be scared off, I'll give her that."

"She told me she is an orphan," Morganne reflected. "I suppose if she were dismissed, she would have no money to live on. Perhaps Mr. Collins is also concerned for her welfare. She did say that he likes her."

"What did you say?" Bess said, so sharply that Morganne almost dropped the fork she'd been raising to her mouth.

"Last night - Lucy said that Mr. Collins likes her very much."

The maid's plump cheeks flushed crimson. "She ought not be so bold!"

Morganne was alarmed - she hadn't meant to stir up such emotion. "I didn't take it as boldness," she insisted. "It is good for him to like her."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Bess said, although she didn't sound like she supposed any such thing. "We needn't speak any further of Lucy," she added firmly. "In all likelihood you'll not see much of her - unless perhaps you pass by a mirror. That's her favorite thing to clean."

After breakfast Morganne went into the drawing room and settled onto a sofa with some books and papers, to work on her lesson plans. She wanted very much to concentrate on her work, but she found herself looking up from her books to observe her surroundings. Like her sleeping quarters, this room too was furnished with fine antiques. Some Collins ancestor frowned down at her from above the mantel. It seemed to Morganne that she could feel the room's history. How many generations of Collinses had sat in these chairs, warmed themselves at this fireplace, drafted letters at this writing table? It was easy for her to imagine them; if she put her mind to it, she could almost see them. How many of them had argued here? Had anyone - she tried to stop the thought before it materialized - had anyone died in this room?

"Miss Casey," a male voice called, and Morganne almost fell off the sofa before she realized that it was Jamison Collins. In the frenzy of her thoughts she hadn't noticed him enter.

"Ohh… Mr. Collins!" she exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest.

"Did I startle you?" he inquired, and she felt silly. Why had those strange thoughts come into her head? She was not usually given to morbidity.

"No," she lied. "I was just planning some lessons for Elizabeth."

"Very good. She is finishing her breakfast and will be in to see you shortly. Meanwhile there are many things I would like to go over with you. I'm sure you want to be informed of all the members of the household, so you shall not be startled upon meeting anyone. I believe you have met our housemaids Lucy and Bess. There is also a caretaker. He is responsible for maintenance and security and groundskeeping. He lives in a cottage on the grounds, just down the path. As for the family, you will of course get to know Elizabeth quite well. I also have a son, Roger. He is four and, for now, will not require tutoring from you.

"I'm afraid you will not be formally introduced to the lady of the house," he continued. "My wife, Rebecca, fell ill about a year ago and is confined to her bed. Bess tends to her. I should like you to assist her by bringing meals to Mrs. Collins' bedroom and other such errands."

"Of course," Morganne agreed.

"There is… one other resident of this house." He paused, and seemed reluctant to go on. "My sister," he said finally. "Nora. She has not married and thus remains at Collinwood." Morganne felt that he was weighing his words carefully. "Miss Casey, my sister is… forgetful. She may seem to say strange things. I ask you to pay her no heed."

"Yes, sir," Morganne replied.

"As for the grounds and the house itself, you are welcome to enter almost any part of it - with two exceptions. Firstly, there is a structure just beyond the caretaker's cottage, which you may encounter if you follow the path through the woods. This is the Old House - the original Collins residence. Having been in disuse since 1797, it is of course in disrepair and therefore may be hazardous. In addition, the West Wing of this house has been closed off for thirty years. So I would ask that you avoid these areas."

"Of course," Morganne repeated.

"Very good. That should be everything. I am leaving for the office, and Elizabeth shall be in shortly."

"Thank you, Mr. Collins."

Morganne's first day of lessons with Elizabeth was uneventful. The girl was bright and well-mannered, but reserved. Morganne did not try to seek the child's friendship ; she hoped that they would eventually become close, but she would not force it.

The following week Bess asked Morganne if she'd like to help bring Mrs. Collins her lunch, and Morganne accepted the invitation. Bess prepared a meal - consisting solely of a bowl of the thinnest, most unappealing broth that Morganne had ever seen - and they carried it upstairs on a tray.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Collins!" Bess called out as they entered the woman's bedroom. She set the tray on an endtable next to the bed.

Rebecca Collins had been an attractive woman not so long ago, but her illness had of course taken its toll. Her skin was chalky and she was skeletally thin.

"Mrs. Collins," Bess said as she propped up pillows and helped the sick woman into a sitting position, "this is Miss Morganne Casey, the new governess. She arrived Monday last."

Rebecca's eyes, dull and with dark circles under them, drifted to Morganne's face. "Welcome to Collinwood," she said in a voice little more than a whisper.

"Thank you, Mrs. Collins. You have a beautiful home and a very bright daughter."

Rebecca smiled in reply but was too tired for further conversation. Morganne and Bess helped her feed herself, and afterward Bess carried the used dishes downstairs while Morganne headed to her room. On the way, however, Morganne realized she was in an unfamiliar hallway. This visit to Mrs. Collins' room had been her first time in this part of the house, and Bess had been with her on the way there. Morganne had grown up in a two-bedroom cottage, and Collinwood was a vast maze of shadowy corridors and stairways. She looked for some familiar landmark as she made her way through the hallway. The walls were lined with portraits of unsmiling men in vintage finery - more Collins ancestors. She felt like they were staring at her disapprovingly.

She opened a door, hoping to come upon a familiar room and get her bearings. The room she entered was one she'd never been in before, and it was not empty. Lucy McGregor and a middle-aged woman were seated together at a small table. They looked up when Morganne opened the door.

"Forgive me," Morganne said. "I've lost my way - I was looking for my room."

"That's all right," the older woman said, in a singsong voice more befitting a child than a woman of her age. "Come join us."

Morganne came further into the room, hesitantly. The woman was pretty but had a slightly wild look about her, with her brown hair a little unkempt and a strange gleam in her very large dark eyes.

"This is Mr. Collins' sister, Nora," Lucy explained.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Collins," Morganne said.

Nora smiled dreamily. "Please sit down." She waved in the general direction of an empty chair. Uncertain, Morganne sat. Nora seemed to be holding an oversized deck of playing cards.

"Now," Nora said, turning back to Lucy. "This is the primary matter in your life." She took a card and placed it face-up on the table, and Morganne saw that it was not an ordinary playing card at all. The illustration on the card depicted a man holding something aloft.

"The Magician. He represents power, determination-"

"Yes, a man," Lucy murmured. "A powerful, compelling man."

Nora looked at Lucy. "There is a man like this? One who is central to your life?"

Lucy glanced at Morganne. "Perhaps," Lucy said noncommittally. Nora put down another card.

"This is what crosses you. This is your obstacle." The card depicted a woman in a flowing gown sitting on a cushion. "The Empress."

"Yes," Lucy muttered. "Yes, my obstacle is a woman. Look at her, seated on that cushion. That's all she does, she lies around and does nothing. Empress, indeed!"

Nora looked at Lucy a little strangely, but she turned over another card. "Here is the source of your problem." The card was upside down. Nora flipped it around so that it faced Lucy and Morganne. The card showed a couple, a man and a woman, standing nude beneath a winged creature. "The Lovers, but the card was inverted. This can indicate a perverse coupling, such as a… physical relationship that does not involve love."

Lucy frowned. "Go to the next card."

Nora looked at her curiously again. "You'll only have the benefit of a full reading if you take every card into consideration."

"Go to the next card," Lucy repeated.

Nora shrugged and put down another card. "This involves your past, perhaps a matter that was pertinent before but is losing importance. The five of Wands." It looked like a group of men fighting with staffs or large sticks. "Dissent, arguing. Competition."

Lucy nodded emphatically. "It means my rival has become less of a threat to me."

"Very well. And the last card. This is the final outcome." The card she turned over depicted a skeleton in black armor riding a white horse.

"Death."

Surprisingly, Lucy smiled. "Of course. Death is always the final outcome."

Morganne got to her feet. She had wanted to leave as soon as she realized what Lucy and Nora were doing, but didn't want to be impolite by interrupting the "reading". It wasn't that Morganne disapproved of tarot cards, exactly ; she simply didn't believe that a deck of cards could foretell the future. "I must be going," she apologized.

"Shall I do a reading for you, dear?" Nora inquired, shuffling the cards.

"No thank you," Morganne replied, and she left the room.

"She seemed like a nice girl," Nora remarked.

"I find her rather dull myself," Lucy said.

"I once had a governess called Rachel Drummond," Nora said in a lilting tone . "Rachel is very beautiful. She works at Reverend Trask's school."

Lucy picked up the deck of tarot cards and shuffled them idly. Nora spent a lot of time reminiscing about her childhood, sometimes lapsing into present tense as she did so.

"Tim Shaw teaches there too," Nora continued. "He used to be so nice, but lately he's been very strange. I think it has something to do with that funny wooden box. I wonder if Jamison remembers that box."

"Say, Nora," Lucy interjected. "Where are these tarot cards from?"

Nora had been absorbed in her reverie. "What?"

"The cards," Lucy repeated. "Did you purchase them?"

"Oh no," Nora said. "They are Quentin's. He left his things behind when he left Collinwood." She paused. "Uncle Quentin is very handsome, but he drinks too much brandy."

"Never mind that," Lucy said, exasperated. "What else did he leave behind? Other things like tarot cards - means of divination?"

"Yes - strange books, and other things. I don't remember everything there is. I only use the cards."

Lucy tried to sound nonchalant, though she was brimming with excitement. "Where are these things? May I look at them?"

Nora went to her wardrobe and pulled out a box, which she brought to Lucy. Lucy rifled through it as though unwrapping a Christmas present. Nora had settled back into her chair and was relating a story about a teacher saving her life in a fire. Lucy ignored her and explored the box, which was full of witchboards and I Ching wands and books of the occult with faded covers and gilt edges. She slipped a few of the smallest books into the pockets of her maid uniform. Nora prattled on, oblivious.