All was quiet as Lucy climbed the stairs to his room. The state of his suit was past repair and so he shed this, putting on the clothes he’d arrived in. The trousers were blowsy at the knee, the stockings had gone thin, and the buttons on his coat were missing save for one. He pulled on his sheepskin cap and was, for better or worse, himself again. After packing his valise, he set out in search of the others, finding Agnes at the table in the servants’ quarters, a cup of tea in one hand, her chin rested in the other. Lucy greeted her and she swiveled to face him.
“I’m leaving the castle, ma’am,” he told her. “I thought you should know.”
“Leaving?” she said. “But I thought you’d left already.”
“I was gone, but I’ve returned.”
“Only to leave again?”
“That’s right.” Lucy sat opposite Agnes. “Where is everyone else?”
“The Baroness has run off once more, and so the Baron is hiding away in a sulk somewhere. I don’t know what’s the matter with Mr. Olderglough, but he’s gone sulky also.” There was a stiffness to Agnes’s movements, as though she were in pain; when Lucy asked her if she was feeling all right, she said, “I don’t believe I am all right, Lucy, no.”
“And will you tell me what’s the matter?”
In a tone of confidentiality, she told him, “It would seem to me, boy, that we are all of us getting smaller, here.”
“Smaller?”
“Less full, yes.”
“I’m not sure quite what you mean, ma’am.”
“We are—emptying. Becoming empty.” Brightening, she said, “We are draining. That’s it. We are all draining away, and soon we will be gone.” She took a sip of her tea, then studied her cup with a look of mistrust. “Cold.”
“Would you like me to boil you more water, ma’am?”
“Why bother? Indeed, it will only grow cold again.” She began muttering to herself, and now Lucy noticed the state of the larder: stacks of unwashed crockery teetered here and there; the table linen was blotched with stains; trampled ash decorated the floor.
“Well, ma’am,” he said, “I just wanted to say thank you for all your help.”
“Did I help you, though?” she asked absently.
“You did.”
“And how did I?”
“You were generous with me, and so I felt less alone here.”
She looked at him as though she thought he were being foxy. “Do you still have the coin I gave you?”
Lucy patted his pocket. “It is here, ma’am.”
“And now, will you use it?”
“I will.”
“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” She took another sip of the tea, and scowled.
“Goodbye, ma’am,” he said.
Lucy left the servants’ quarters; Agnes resumed her muttering.