Dawn at Emberwilde (23 page)

“Thanks a lot,” muttered Colin, untying his neck cloth from his face and inhaling a deep breath of the fresh forest air.

“What'd you find?” Henry asked, taking the lantern from Colin.

Colin sat on a log and kicked his boot against the side to dislodge the mud clinging to it. “Goes back quite a way and then forks. One of them leads to the forest floor. The other leads to one of the garden sheds behind the foundling home.”

“What?” both McKinney and Henry exclaimed.

“It's falling apart in there. Dangerous, actually. I'm sure they're using it somehow. How else would they get the crates in here? And I found this.” Colin pulled the pocket watch from his pocket and clicked it open. By this light, he was able to examine the piece closer. It had a white face, and the chain had been broken. He extended it toward Henry.

Colin's cousin frowned as he took the piece, held it up, and popped it open. Then he held it to his ear. “Hmm. Nice timepiece. There doesn't appear to be a marking or inscription, though.”

Henry handed it back to Colin.

“I'll show it to Ellison. Perhaps he will know something.” Colin returned the watch to his pocket and rested his elbow on his knee, turning his face into the bit of breeze coming through the trees. “Been in this forest all my life, and I had no clue those tunnels were there.”

“That's why I don't come here.” McKinney shrugged, sitting on a nearby log. “There's something wrong with the place. Secrets and tunnels, mischief and magic, I'm sure of it.”

Henry ignored McKinney's statement and extinguished the lantern. “I've never heard of the tunnels either, but then again, I didn't spend as much time here as you did, Colin.”

“That tunnel appears to have been here for ages.” Colin used his sleeve to wipe the perspiration from his brow. “Someone has to know about it.”

“But who?” McKinney asked.

Colin wondered the exact same thing. His first thought was Bradford, since the tunnel emptied onto the school's property. But that seemed unlikely. Bradford wouldn't step foot in a shed, let alone go about exploring tunnels. Besides, he and Colin had played in these woods together as boys. If one of them knew about the tunnel, it only stood to reason that the other would.

Colin locked eyes with his cousin. Henry had a sharp mind, and his ability to read people was impeccable.

Henry handed Sampson's reins back over to Colin. “Ellison?”

Colin took the reins in his hands and stood. It was true—who else besides the property owner would know of such a tunnel? Him, or maybe someone who worked for him, like Harding. But if they were somehow involved, why would Ellison have reached out to him in the first place?

McKinney rubbed his hands together, a twinkle brightening his eye. “Told you there was something not right in this forest. It's evil, and evil things happen here. So what are you going to do about this?”

“Not sure yet. First things first, let's break down these crates and take the contents to the jail for safekeeping. Let's get everything out. Also, I need to share this news with Ellison.” Colin took a deep breath. “But things just got a lot more interesting.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
sabel's final gown was delivered just in time for the dinner at the Atwell house—her first true social event in Northrop.

She had never been a guest at such a dinner before. At Fellsworth, she had always taken dinner in the same manner, at the teachers' dining table in a room full of girls. Even since her arrival at Emberwilde, she had dined only with the family.

Tonight her nerves took flight within her, swarming her self-consciousness and fanning her apprehension.

Burns adjusted the lacing at the back of her dress, gently pulling the satin ribbon until it was flat against Isabel's ribs.

Isabel tried not to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Even more so than she had in the dress she wore to church and in the days thus far, she looked
different.

With new stays her entire shape evolved. Curves were more pronounced. The change of hue against her skin made every feature appear different. The cut of her bodice made her neck appear longer.

“Lovely, Isabel. Simply lovely.” Constance sat primly on the edge of the chaise lounge, her hands folded pristinely on her lap, her expression proud, as if she had just created a masterpiece. “That color is exquisite.”

Isabel had never worn a lavender gown, not that she could remember.

“You were right about it.”

Constance laughed. “Never doubt me when it comes to color, Cousin.”

Isabel sucked in a deep breath as she assessed herself. When Burns finished with the lace, Isabel lifted the intricate overlay, then let it fall back into place. The gown was cut lower on the bodice and wider on the shoulders than she was used to. She touched the bare skin with her hand, covering it. She pivoted so she could see the back of the dress.

“You are worried about the cut, are you not?” Constance stood and crossed the room to stand behind Isabel. She looked over Isabel's shoulder into the mirror. “I assure you, this gown is entirely appropriate for an event like the one we are attending. I would not let you make such a misstep. You look divine.”

Isabel nodded in silent agreement. She had told herself that this gown was an extravagance, a frivolous waste. There were so many other things to spend time and money on. But now that she was in it, now that she felt the fine silk underclothes against her skin and beheld the transformation in front of her, she silenced the battle within her.

She knew this was just a dinner, but to her, it was a brand-new experience—a welcome to a new world.

She turned to Lizzie, who was seated on the chair. Her sister was slumped, her elbow resting on the arm and her chin propped in her palm.

“And what do you think of your sister's dress, Lizzie?” asked Constance.

Isabel winced as she regarded her sister. Even in her new gown of pink striped muslin, she looked sad.

After a long pause, Lizzie sighed and lowered her hand. “It is pretty.”

“Just pretty?” Constance interjected, acting shocked at the child's lack of enthusiasm. “Child, this gown is stunning.”

But Isabel knew her sister. The dejected countenance was not about the gown.

She lifted her skirt, stepped over a hatbox, and knelt next to her sister. “What is wrong, dearest?”

Lizzie cut her eyes to Constance before fixing her attention on Isabel. Her lip popped out in a pretty pout. “I want to go. Why can't I go?”

“You know why.” Isabel rubbed her sister's arm. “Such dinners are for adults.”

Lizzie's frown confirmed her displeasure with this idea. She draped her arms over the side of the chair and let her head droop toward them.

“Besides, I fear you would find it terribly boring,” Isabel said. “There will be no children, and you would have to sit still. You will have much more fun here, you will see. Burns has promised to keep you company all evening.” Her lady's maid flashed a smile at the little girl. “You will like that, will you not?”

Logically, Isabel knew her sister would be fine. In fact, she could make the argument that Lizzie's constitution was stronger than her own. She was a fearless child almost to the point of recklessness. Still, a nagging guilt tugged at Isabel. “I promise you, I will come in and see you when I get home.”

“But I will still be alone at some point.” Lizzie's lip trembled. “What if a ghost comes and grabs me?”

Isabel frowned. “What would make you think that there would be a ghost here?”

“Burns told me so. She said there are ghosts in the Black Wood Forest.”

“Excuse me, miss,” Burns said, making a convenient exit from the room without looking at Isabel.

Isabel followed her sister's gaze out the window. A shiver traveled her spine as she recounted her own experience in the Emberwilde
Forest. Outside, the day was darker than it should be given the hour. A heavy rain pelted the earth, and tumultuous clouds pushed out the day's light. Thunder grumbled low, and an intermittent flash of light brightened the room. There, framed by the window, was the Black Wood Forest, swaying and bending to the storm's demands.

Isabel turned back to her sister. “It is called the Emberwilde Forest, not the Black Wood Forest, and there are no ghosts.”

She stood and kissed her sister's forehead just as her aunt appeared in the doorway.

“Burns tells me you are ready.” Eagerness heightened the woman's voice, but her smile faded when she saw the child. “Merciful heavens, what is wrong, Elizabeth? You are not ill, are you?”

Isabel tapped a warning on Lizzie's leg and the child sat up straight, but her smile did not return. “No, ma'am.”

“Well then, what is the matter?”

Everything her aunt said seemed to take the form of a demand. She was a woman obviously used to a model of behavior that Lizzie had not yet perfected.

Too many seconds passed before Lizzie responded, so Isabel quickly interjected, “She is quite well, Aunt.”

“No, she is not,” her aunt declared. “I can see that she is displeased about something. I do hope you are not prone to sulkiness, Elizabeth. That is a terrible trait to find in a young lady, and I will not encourage that sort of behavior in my own home.”

A little shocked at the bluntness of her aunt's delivery, and eager to prevent a dramatic display, Isabel wrapped her arm around Lizzie. “It is nothing, Aunt. I promise you.”

Her aunt turned her harsh gaze on Isabel. “You should not be so eager to defend her, Isabel. If she is to be a lady, the time to start such training is now.” She looked back to Lizzie. “Tell me, child, why are you in such a gloomy state?”

Isabel braced herself for her sister's response.

Lizzie, always brave, always forthright, spoke. “I do not wish to be left alone tonight.”

“Oh, is that all?” Aunt Margaret waved her hand in dismissive annoyance. “Oh, my dear, you are spoiled in such respects, I do believe. Do you not know that it is important for your sister to meet the people of Northrop? It is important for you to learn to be as content when you are alone as you are when surrounded by people. I would think that that school of yours would have impressed upon you as much.”

The candid interaction between her aunt and her sister weighed heavily on Isabel's heart.

Lizzie looked to Isabel. “May I be excused?”

Isabel nodded and moved back to the dressing table.

At Fellsworth, she could not have imagined leaving her sister for the evening. It was just not the way things were done.

But here, it was. They both had to adjust to the idea. It was the price they were paying for security. A small price.

Burns returned to the room, and Isabel sat still to have her hair dressed. The lady's maid took great care in brushing her hair, braiding it, and weaving silver strands through the end. It was curled. Pinned. Fresh flowers were tucked in the comb, and Isabel found the scent of the blooms sickeningly sweet.

At length, her hair was done. She was not recognizable.

Constance stepped behind her and hooked a delicate silver necklace around her neck. On the jewelry hung an amethyst pendant.

Isabel had never worn silver, much less a jewel.

When Burns was out of earshot, Constance leaned close to Isabel. “Mr. Bradford will not be able to keep his eyes off you tonight.”

Isabel knew the words were intended as a compliment, but they felt more like an omen.

Every care was taken to keep the ladies' gowns clean and dry
on the way to the Atwells'. The velvet cape draped upon Isabel's shoulders was far too heavy for such a warm evening, but she wore it at her aunt's insistence, lest her gown become soiled.

She felt almost ill as the carriage rumbled over the Benton Bridge and through the village. Uncle Charles had stayed behind at Emberwilde with a sore throat, leaving the ladies to attend the event without him. Isabel felt his absence, for her uncle had a calming effect on his wife. Without him, her behavior could be unpredictable.

The damp heat, combined with the motion and her nerves, made it hard to breathe. And she knew why. Mr. Bradford was to be at the dinner tonight. Her family's expectations were becoming increasingly clear. Part of her was excited to see him again, but another part of her was cautious. For even though Mr. Bradford was charming, she found that her thoughts had been turning to Mr. Galloway as of late. Their interaction in the forest had been pressed into her memory and burned more brightly than any encounter she had shared with Mr. Bradford. She did not know if it was the solemn blueness of his eyes or the safe feeling of being in his presence, but as much as she tried to deny the fact, it was Mr. Galloway who had begun to capture her imagination during the quiet times of the day. She wondered if he would be present at the Atwells' dinner.

She tried to shift her thoughts and focus on the scenery flashing past—the church. A graveyard. A small row of cottages.

Constance spoke, breaking the silence. “The Atwells are one of the most influential families in the area.”

Aunt Margaret added, “Their estate, Hetford Abbey, is not nearly as large as Emberwilde.”

“Indeed not,” agreed Constance. “But given the limited social opportunities for our situation, they will do, plus their daughter is a dear friend of mine. I am sure she will adore you, Isabel.”

Isabel nodded and lifted the cape's hood away from her neck to allow some air in.

“Heddeston Park, the estate where our grandfather lived while he was alive, neighbors Hetford Abbey to the west,” Constance said.

The reference to her grandfather piqued Isabel's attention. Only a few times during her stay at Emberwilde had she heard reference to her grandfather. She could not help but wonder what the members of her extended family had been like. Had they been fair-headed like she was, and had they been feisty like her mother? Or had they been more like Aunt Margaret, set in her traditional ways?