Dawn at Emberwilde (15 page)

“Good morning,” exclaimed Isabel as she entered the room.

“My goodness, if you did not sleep late!” exclaimed Constance, looking up from her letter. “I believe some of our habits may be rubbing off on you. Do come and sit down. We've good news this morning. The seamstress has finished the first of your gowns, as well as one for Elizabeth, and she will be arriving later today for the fittings. Will that not be entertaining?”

“She certainly took long enough,” sniffed Aunt Margaret. “The gowns had better be pristine with this length of time! But, in consolation, I've not seen a finer seamstress than Mrs. Tindan, and at least you will finally have something appropriate to wear. We might attend church service this Sunday, not to mention the dinner at the Atwell house this coming week.”

A flutter danced within Isabel. She had to admit she was looking forward to church and the dinner. She had been here well over a week already and had only been to the foundling home.

Isabel was about to take her seat at the breakfast table when something out the window caught her eye.

Isabel's jaw dropped open at the sight.

She hurried to the glass and rested her hands on the ledge to get a better view, for there, sitting atop a brown pony, was Lizzie.

Panic surged through Isabel. “What is Lizzie doing?”

Her aunt turned to the window as if distracted. “Why, Elizabeth is taking her riding lesson, of course. I am on the hunt for a proper riding master, but the sooner we start, the better. We are so far
from London that I fear it might take awhile to find a suitable riding master, but there is a price for everything, is there not?”

Her aunt's matter-of-fact tone grated Isabel's nerves. “I know what she is doing, but who gave her permission to do so?”

“Why, I did, of course.”

“I wish you would have asked me first. She is frightened of horses. She is—”

“Nonsense. The child was beyond excited by the idea. Besides, we have lost precious time already. In order to raise a proper lady, one must start young. Best to steer her interests to proper feminine pursuits.”

With every word her aunt uttered, Isabel's defenses rose. Lizzie was her responsibility. She was the one to oversee her education and to provide permission for activities, regardless of their nature.

Isabel fought hard to keep her voice level. “I appreciate your generosity, Aunt, but truly, I think she does not need this. She—”

“Now, now, I know what is best.” Aunt Margaret waved a hand dismissively in the air. “I have raised four daughters of my own. I recognize that certain wildness of spirit, and it must be tamed. Riding is the perfect outlet for such energies.”

Alarm swelled within Isabel's chest, pressing against the confines of her rib cage and shortening her breath. First and foremost, Lizzie was not Aunt Margaret's daughter.
Isabel
was Lizzie's guardian. She should be making such decisions on her sister's behalf.

It was a battle that she had suspected to be brewing since the moment they arrived. Her aunt intended to raise Lizzie as she had raised her daughters, with the same values, goals, and hopes for the future.

Isabel's attention fell on the man leading the pony with a rope. “And who is that with her?”

“That is Carter. You can place great trust in the man. All of my daughters ride, and he has been instrumental in their achievements.”

Isabel's frustration was fuming into anger. Anger at herself for oversleeping and not seeing to Lizzie properly. Anger at her aunt for making such assumptions. And anger at the situation in general.

Isabel had a choice. She could storm out and demand Lizzie get off the pony, but the child was smiling and looked so happy. Fighting with her aunt would not be productive, for were they not guests in her home?

She shook off the frustration, then sat down next to her aunt. “Perhaps you are right, Aunt Margaret. It is time we pay more attention to Lizzie's education, especially now that we are settling into a routine.”

Aunt Margaret lifted her chin in righteous triumph and cut her eyes toward Constance.

Isabel drew a deep breath. If she was to get anywhere with her aunt, she had to modify her approach, regardless of how difficult it may be. She forced a smile. “Thank you for your advice on Lizzie's riding. I am sure she will enjoy it.”

“All children enjoy riding, Isabel.” Her aunt's words seemed almost condescending.

Isabel bit her lower lip before speaking again. If she gave in to some of her aunt's requests, perhaps she could make more headway with her own. She breathed deeply, taking a moment to quiet her nerves and regain her composure. “I am sure you are right. I have also been giving more consideration to Lizzie's education. I plan to resume her lessons this week to their normal intensity. She grows more accustomed to Emberwilde by the day, and I think it is time to reestablish expectations.”

The previous day they had paid yet another visit to the foundling home, and Isabel seized the opportunity to advance her case. Aunt Margaret had continued to object to the sisters spending time with the children, so Isabel spoke before Aunt Margaret could interject. “I have also been thinking a great deal about the Ellisons'
commitment to charitable causes, and I believe Lizzie and I should continue to become more involved. As you know, yesterday during our visit to the foundling home, Lizzie and I read with some of the younger girls while you spoke with Mr. Bradford. Such a lesson in charity and selflessness is important, do you not agree? It was a common practice at our school for older children to assist the younger, and seeing that you strive so to improve the foundling home, it would be a positive step.”

Isabel did not give her aunt a chance to respond. “The day is fine, is it not? I think I will go for a turn about the gardens before the sun grows any warmer.”

“But what about breakfast?” chimed Constance, lowering her fork to her plate. “You must eat.”

Isabel looked at the spread of breads and rolls, hot ham, and poached eggs. The thought of eating made her stomach turn.

“Perhaps later,” she said.

“Would you like some company?” Constance asked.

“No, thank you.” Isabel's reply was much sharper than she had intended. “I've no wish to take you away from your morning activities, and I will just be out a short time.”

“Very well.” Constance called after her, “Do not forget your bonnet!”

Isabel returned to her chamber, snatched her straw bonnet, then hastily donned it and tied the bow beneath her chin.

As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in her looking glass.

She stopped and turned, her breath slowing.

She looked like a lady.

This was the first day she had worn one of Constance's dresses, at her aunt's insistence. She had been in such a hurry to get to Lizzie that she had not paid much attention when Burns helped her dress.

Gone was the tight chignon at the base of her neck. A softer, more polished style replaced it, thanks to Burns's talents. Isabel's
hair was allowed to curl and was coiled softly against the crown of her head. The flowing gown of buttery yellow silk with a filmy white fichu at her neckline replaced the severe, high-necked black frock. The mere change of colors made her lips and cheeks appear pinker, her eyes brighter. She thought back to that morning when Mrs. Brathay summoned her to Mr. Langsby's study.

She was different on the outside. Was she changing on the inside too?

Deciding to push the thought to the back of her mind, she hurried from the great house and into the bright sunshine.

She found her sister on the other side of the front garden, still on the pony. Lizzie noticed her, for she waved wildly in Isabel's direction.

Isabel lifted her hand and returned the greeting. From where Isabel stood, Lizzie looked quite safe. And now that she had a little distance to think on it, perhaps this was a positive thing.

Isabel allowed her shoulders to slump slightly.

Her sister was smiling—genuinely smiling. It was a wonderful sight, for since their arrival, homesickness and loneliness had plagued Lizzie.

Now that she saw Lizzie enjoying herself, Isabel sighed. Perhaps letting go of some of her expectations would make it easier to adjust. Only time would tell.

As Colin turned the bend, he saw her.

Miss Creston.

He almost missed her, so lost in his thoughts was he.

He'd grown frustrated over the past couple of days. After writing twice to the excise officer about his suspicions of smuggling, he received word that they were too busy to investigate the
matter at this time. To make matters worse, he had revisited the cavern deep within the forest, only to find the contraband had been reorganized. Some sort of activity had taken place, and they were no further along in finding the answer than they had been that first day.

Now he was walking down the path adjacent to the forest, leading Sampson as he did so. It was the road he often took to speak with Mr. Ellison, for he had long since forgone entering Emberwilde through the main entrance, as he had when he was a boy. This path was the most direct route to the tradesmen's entrance and to Mr. Ellison's study, but today Miss Creston had found reason to take it. She was walking toward him.

At the sight of her, his interest piqued.

Something about her was different. It was her gown. Gone was the harsh black and shapeless dress. The one she wore adorned her slight figure attractively. The sleeves came to just below her elbows and flared out in lace trim. It displayed her arms. Her neck.

Her bonnet had slipped loose and hung down her back, leaving her blonde hair uncovered and glowing in the sun's bright light. The bonnet's white ribbons were still tied at her throat. She tugged at the bow and then wiped her face with her hand.

His steps slowed. She had not taken notice of him yet.

She seemed agitated. Her arms were now folded across her chest, and her steps were determined. Fast. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the dirt path in front of her.

She turned at the black iron gate and began walking directly toward him. The breeze caught her skirts and they billowed behind her, the soft yellow hue striking against the green background of the trees. Even from the distance her cheeks appeared flushed. He admittedly was not one to pick up on any lady's subtle moods, but something was wrong. In a matter of a few seconds she looked over her shoulder more than once. Following her gaze, he saw a small
child, presumably Miss Elizabeth, whom he had yet to properly meet, atop a pony.

At length she glanced up to look where she was going, and then she stopped short.

“Miss Creston,” he offered as a greeting, bowing his head.

“Oh, Mr. Galloway.” He had surprised her. A muscle in her jaw twitched, and she expelled her breath in a sharp swoop. “I . . . I didn't think anyone would be here. I hope I am not intruding.”

“How could you be intruding?” he asked. “This is your home, not mine.”

She did not respond. Instead, she looked past him to Sampson, then cast one more nervous glance over her shoulder.

He nodded toward the child. “Is that your sister?”

“Yes. It is. That is Elizabeth.”

“I see she has taken to riding.”

“Taken to riding?” she repeated, her eyes not leaving the girl. “I don't know for sure. My aunt has decided that my sister should learn to ride a pony, and, well, she seems to enjoy it.”

“Your aunt has decided? You do not agree?”

She looked back at him and gave a little shrug. “I don't know.”

It was the first time in their brief encounter that she made direct eye contact with him. He had been around beautiful women before, but never could he recall the sensation that overcame him at that moment. It was as if he'd been on the receiving end of a man's fist, but instead, it was only her, small and demure, and all she had done was to cast her glance in his direction.

He found his voice. “And why don't you know?”

“Horses are dangerous.”

He laughed at the simple response. “Dangerous? Oh, I don't know about that. If it is any consolation, your sister is in very safe hands. The pony she is riding is Caesar. He has to be approaching thirty years of age. And I know this because I rode that pony when
I was a boy. I do not think you need to worry that he will take off on a wild romp across the field.”

The pretty smile that ensued pleased him. She cast her eyes downward. “I suppose I am being foolish.”

He adjusted his stance. “Your sister is in very capable hands with Carter, there. He is the most adept horseman for miles. If anyone can teach her to be safe around horses, it is he.”

She sighed. “I suppose it is obvious that I have very little knowledge of horses or ponies. I've never ridden either.”

“When it comes to horses, the danger lies in not knowing how to handle them. In not understanding their power.”