Dawn at Emberwilde (27 page)

Instead of trying to understand it, she said, “But your aunt dislikes him so.”

“That is true. Do not mistake me, my mother can make a match to rival anyone, but she is so set on a good financial match that she might overlook a match of the heart. Only you can know that.” Constance stood from her ottoman and shook out her gown. She tilted her head to Isabel and smiled a sleepy smile. “As for me, I care only for your happiness and security. I must go to bed now. You should get some sleep too.”

Constance turned to leave, but then she paused. She stepped to the small table next to Isabel's chair and lifted Mary's needlework. “What is this? Did you make it?”

Isabel stood and closed the space between them. “My friend Mary gave that to me when I left Fellsworth.”

“What does it say?” Constance tucked her hair behind her ear and angled the linen toward the light to see. “What a beautiful little poem.”

“It's a psalm,” Isabel corrected, tracing the stitches with fondness.

Constance seemed satisfied with the answer and straightened. “Hmm. Very pretty. Well, I am exhausted. I am going to bed. Good night, dear Isabel.”

Isabel stood in her chamber and waited for the door to close behind Constance. Linen still in hand, she crossed the room to the window. Her fire was beginning to wane, and the room had become quite dark. She pulled aside the heavy velvet curtain and saw that more of the moon was evident now, its bright white light crisp. Mere hours ago an angry rain pummeled the earth, but soon dawn would arrive, fresh and clean.

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass. How she wished
the window would open. She could use some fresh air. Moonlight touched the edges of the Black Wood Forest.

Isabel read the second half of the psalm.
In the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up.

As if obeying, she lifted her eyes toward the sky. Dawn was still a few hours away, and the unsettling feeling that she was going to have to make more life-altering decisions in the not-so-distant future hung heavily on her heart. How she missed Mary and the advice she would give. Mary was always so confident and self-assured.

Of course, her aunt and cousin meant well, but they had a different way of seeing the world.

Isabel rubbed her finger over the smooth, perfect stitches once again, returned the needlework to the table, and climbed into bed in hopes of being swept away in sleep's solace.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

T
he night following the Atwell dinner, Colin and McKinney were returning from a nearby village. They'd met with a farmer who saw a child stealing a chicken from his yard.

It was a sad sign of the times, for such crimes were becoming all too common.

Darkness had fallen, and the men were taking the main road past Emberwilde on horseback. It was a chilly night, damp with gray fog. Silence surrounded them, and save for their horses' hooves on the soft road, all was quiet. Colin fixed his eyes on the woods as they rode past. The mist was shifting, and blackness shrouded all. It was easy to mistake the uneven shadows for moving people. His eyes were tired, but worse than that, his spirit was tired. Even Sampson seemed unusually slow and solemn.

“Long day,” exclaimed McKinney, stretching a large arm over his head to release the kinks in his back. “I told Martha to keep the stew hot until we returned.”

“Good thought,” Colin added, but his mind was far from his stomach.

“Feels like old times, doesn't it, out and about? Been awhile since we've had so many things to tend to.”

“You say that like it is a good thing.” Some men did not mind the business. It could be quite lucrative if one was willing to walk both sides of the law. But Colin was not one of those men, and it made his job all the more difficult.

Their path took them by the foundling home.

How he wanted to go investigate the shed he had seen earlier. He doubted it was being used, for it had been very dusty.

The stone house stood tall in the night air. No lights winked from its windows. No foggy smoke puffed from the chimneys.

But it was not the windows that caught his attention, nor the lack of chimney smoke.

Two men were walking along the school's fence, near the forest.

Colin slowed his horse's pace and reached out to tap McKinney's arm. Once he had McKinney's attention, he nodded toward the two men.

As they drew closer, one of the profiles was startlingly clear. He recognized the pair as those who had been with Bradford at the boxing match.

Colin jerked his head in their direction to get McKinney to follow him.

They approached cautiously. The lack of light made it almost impossible to tell if the men were armed, but it was wise not to make assumptions. At least he and McKinney were on horseback—a distinct advantage.

“Awfully late to be out in this part of the town, don't you think, gentlemen?”

“Oh look! It's the magistrate,” exclaimed Dent, almost amused.

McKinney leaned his arm on his leg and looked down at the men. “You two stayin' at my inn tonight?”

Dent looked to Stanway before answering. “Yeah. And?”

“Going to be locking up for the night shortly. I'd advise you to return before too much longer lest you be locked out. I'm not about to get out of my bed to let you in.”

“Can't fault a man for taking an evening stroll, can you now?” Stanway asked.

“We don't often see strangers here in town this time of night,”
Colin stated, not breaking eye contact with the man. “There's nothing down this road that would concern you.”

“Well now, that's not your place to say, is it?”

Stanway sniffed in amusement as his friend's cockiness, but then Dent lifted his hand. “Obviously these men are sensitive about something here. None of our business, is it, Stanway? Like I said, we're just two men out for a walk to get to know the village. We're here quite often now, so we might as well learn to make ourselves at home. Didn't think it was a problem for a man to go for a walk this time of night, but I guess you do things different here in Northrop.”

Colin bristled. It was almost as if a threat was hidden within Dent's words, a challenge.

Dent shifted, and then Colin noticed an unusual attribute about the man. He was missing his hand.

“Good night to you, gentlemen,” exclaimed Dent.

The two rough men resumed their walk toward the village, and Colin followed them with his eyes.

After the men were out of earshot, McKinney said, “I don't trust either one of 'em.”

Colin urged Sampson forward. “I don't either.”

The sky started to drizzle as they headed back to the inn, and Colin could not shake the sense that these men had a part to play in the odd events in Emberwilde Forest. But he still did not have any proof.

At that moment he thought of Miss Creston, and the fear in her eyes as she came running out of the forest a few days prior. Maybe she had seen something. Perhaps it was time to start broadening his search a bit more.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

W
here was Lizzie?

About a week after her visit to the dinner at the Atwells', a gentle breeze wafted through the open window, gently lifting the lacy curtains around the canopy bed and teasing wisps of hair around Isabel's face.

She had asked her uncle about having the nails removed. He had no qualms about it, and only yesterday a footman had been up to take them out. The window, although a bit stuck, now was open. She surveyed the manicured lawns, the lush forests, the vibrant sky, and the puffy clouds.

When they first arrived, Lizzie had visited Isabel in her room each morning. But as she had grown more accustomed to Emberwilde, she became more adventurous and would often venture out before Isabel was even awake.

This was one of those mornings.

Isabel had waited for Lizzie to join her, but when her sister did not come, Isabel rang for Burns, who rose early and would often help Lizzie dress. Within moments the lady's maid arrived, a tray of tea balanced on her arm. She set it on the table.

“Good morning, Burns,” Isabel said, stepping to the tray and helping herself to a cup of tea.

“Good morning, miss. I hope you slept well.”

Burns stopped short when she noticed the window.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room as Burns stared. At length, she spoke. “I see the window has been opened.”

“Yes, I asked my uncle and he had the nails removed.”

Burns stepped away from it, shaking her head as she did so. “Maybe you know what you are doing. But I've seen things, and I still don't think this is a good idea.”

Isabel ignored the tremor of uncertainty that coursed through her at the older woman's words. She did not believe in ghosts or omens or any of the sort.

She quickly changed the subject. “Have you seen my sister this morning?”

“Miss Elizabeth was up with the crows. She had her breakfast in her room and went down to see the horses. Do not fret, miss. If you don't mind my saying, it is good for the child to be out in the fresh air. There is nothing quite so lovely as dawn at Emberwilde. Everyone says so.”

Isabel could not disagree, for the delicious breeze dancing in the room and the vibrant garden out of the window called to her as true as any birdsong. If this was to be their home, it was only right that the child should be at ease. Isabel had not spoken to anyone about the Emberwilde Forest since her conversation with Mr. Galloway, but the topic ran wild in her mind. At first she thought to warn Lizzie to stay away from it, but she feared that would only pique her sister's curiosity. In all likelihood Lizzie was down at the stable. She'd become fast friends with Carter, adored Caesar, and was hard at work renaming every pony, horse, and cat.

Isabel swallowed the dread that rebuilt itself nearly every morning. Lizzie should move about freely and without fear. But one glance out of the windows and her heart clamped within her. The stranger's threat echoed in her mind.

Isabel grew restless as Burns helped her with her stays and took her time fastening the tedious buttons down the back of her gown. Each button seemed as if it were caging her in. She did not want to insult the maid, but her speed seemed impossibly slow, and by the
time she reached the final button, Isabel felt about ready to burst from the confines of the gauzy fabric.

Once free, she stepped away. “Thank you, Burns, I can finish from here.”

A frown pinned Burns's face. “But your hair, miss. I've not even touched it.”

From the corner of her eye Isabel could see her unruly, light curls. She had never been out of her chamber with her hair in such disarray. At Fellsworth, she would have been punished for such an oversight.

Here, she would be reprimanded as well.

Begrudgingly, she returned to the chair and allowed Burns to draw a comb through the curly strands, wincing as the woman caught on a tangle. They sat in silence, Burns focused on her work and Isabel with her eyes fixed on the window facing the Emberwilde Forest.

She hurried Burns along. She wanted to keep a sharp eye on her sister.

Colin slowed his steps to match Ellison's more labored ones. Ellison had missed the Atwell party due to an illness, and today was the first day he had been well enough to meet with Colin to discuss the progress of their investigation. Even now, Ellison seemed unwell.

They had just returned from a walk in Emberwilde Forest, where Colin had shown Ellison the tunnels. The contraband was still being removed, and Ellison had placed two of his hired men to watch the forest. The effort seemed to curtail activity for the time being.

“It seems everything is secure, but for how long?” mused Ellison. “The Emberwilde Forest is a large one. Who knows where else they have these tunnels.”

“We'll not give up. We will find them and stop it at the source. And I have been meaning to ask you, have you thought any more about the watch that we discovered?”

Ellison frowned as he lumbered down the cobbled path.

“This is where I leave you, unless you fancy a bit of a beverage.”

“No, thank you. I am taking your advice, you will be happy to know. Later today I am meeting with some of my tenants who have fallen behind on rent. My goal is to arrange for them to clear the main estate lands in lieu of back rent. Hopefully we can reach an agreement with them on the terms. Like you said, there is no time like the present.”

Ellison's face brightened at the news. “There now, that is good news indeed. Mark my words, you'll have that property up and running in no time.”

Colin watched as the older man headed up the stairs. He had thought he was far too mature for such feelings, but it felt good to know the older man was proud of him. Since Colin's uncle died, Ellison had taken him under his wing and offered him a great deal of guidance—some of which he took, and some that he let be. But he respected the man's experience, and even despite his financial trouble, Colin trusted his advice.