by Jane Charles
Eliza anchored her fists on her hips. “That’s never been done before January, as you are well aware.”
For that, Sophia had no answer.
“It has something to do with Westbrook and the fence.”
“I’m positive the three are not connected.” Sophia shook her head. Leave it to Eliza to invent impossible scenarios when she doesn’t have all the answers and where connections do not exist.
“Why is Westbrook here anyway?” Eliza asked. “I don’t believe it’s simply for his sisters. They’ve been at the school for almost two years, and we’d not seen him in nearly a year.”
“We didn’t see him last year,” Rosemary offered.
“That’s only because we were away with Miss Morris visiting Sophia’s home, but we learned about it when we returned.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Eliza did have a point.
“This village offers absolutely no entertainment for one of the Devils of Dalston. What of his mistresses, the gaming hells, Gentleman Jackson’s, all of those places he’s known to haunt?”
Sophia quickly glanced around to make sure they were alone. The last time a teacher had come across them discussing such improper topics, they’d received a blistering lecture on what ladies did and did not discuss, even in privacy.
“It is the winter. Perhaps he only partakes in those activities during the Season,” Rosemary suggested.
“Further, why did they suddenly build a fence?” Eliza ignored Rosemary and whirled on Sophia.
“Besides the obvious that Mr. and Mrs. Kazakov wish some privacy? It is certainly for our safety.”
Eliza snorted and Rosemary frowned.
“We’ve nearly drowned twice,” Sophia reminded them. “Once when we got stuck at the back of the cave and the second time when we were wading in the ocean.” Sophia looked from Eliza to Rosemary and back again. “Had Mr. Kazakov not been there both times, we would be dead.” Her father hadn’t told her the real reason she needed to keep her friends from the cave and the beach, but the fence was an excellent idea. It was one place she’d not need to worry about any longer. “And, I won’t be picking the lock either. I saw that look in your eyes, Eliza, and I will not help you.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stuck out her chin. She may have to follow to keep her friends out of trouble, but she wasn’t going to open the door for them.
Eliza threw up her hands and turned. “It’s not the only way to the beach. A path leads from Harrington Manor.”
“You cannot trespass on Mr. Westbrook’s land to go to a place we’ve been warned to stay away from.”
“Exactly. Why are they warning us away?” Eliza demanded.
“Because we almost died, twice, and the Kazakovs would like some privacy,” Sophia nearly yelled. They’ve gone over this. More than once.
Their eyes locked. Sophia was not about to back down.
“Very well, for now,” Eliza finally said. “Besides, we came out here to find out what Miss Morris has been doing.”
Sophia blew out a labored breath. “I’m certain she is preparing for the new classes she is taking on.”
“She’s been coming out here daily for almost a week.”
“I heard her tell another teacher that it needed to be cleaned and organized,” Rosemary said. “That some plants had died from lack of attention, and she needed to study the teaching materials.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “How difficult can it be to put seedlings in dirt? We’ve done it for three years now.”
All three of them knew much more was involved, from seedlings to transplanting as they grew, proper sunlight and water, and finally planting them in the ground. However, searching through the belvedere was far better than any other scheme Eliza might hatch, and safer too, so Sophia decided not to argue any further. “What are we looking for?”
Eliza shrugged. “I’m not certain, but I’ll know when I find it,” she said as she walked toward the back of the room to the large potting table their former teacher always used. Beside it was a broom and small crates and baskets. Some held dead plants, broken pots, and dirt. Those Eliza ignored, but picked up the one that had an old rag doll on top. “Let’s see what’s in here.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Clearly these items are to be disposed of since Miss Morris has been cleaning the space.”
“Why would an old rag doll be here?”
“A student probably left it behind,” Rosemary said, already growing bored with this outing.
“Perhaps.” Eliza set it aside and withdrew older candles, some stones, and crystals. Beneath were more plants and by the aroma, even though they were dead, Sophia recognized the herbal scent. Not that she could distinguish which herbs since they were all mixed together.
Eliza sighed as if disappointed and turned slowly, looking about the room.
Sophia knew it was too much to hope that her friends would give up so easily.
“In there,” Rosemary pointed to an open doorway.
“We are not allowed to go in there except to wash our hands after class,” Sophia reminded them.
“Nobody will ever know,” Rosemary said and stepped inside the room.
Sophia wasn’t concerned they’d find something they shouldn’t, but it was her job to be difficult. If she suddenly agreed to go along with their plans, her friends may become suspicious of her, and Eliza already had far too many intrigues rattling around in her brain.
“I had no idea there were so many books about plants,” Eliza said with disgust and Sophia was rather surprised as well.
Eliza ran her fingers along the spines, reading the titles, as if they were really of interest, which they weren’t, but she hadn’t given up on the idea of finding a real reason for Miss Morris to be spending her evenings here for the last five days.
“There are even too many for the shelves,” exclaimed Rosemary from behind the desk. She bent down and lifted a stack of books. “Maybe she’s been reading these.” Rosemary put them in the center of the desk and then gasped. “Look what I found!”
Eliza and Sophia rushed forward. In her hands, Rosemary held the books that had disappeared from the library in the house.
“This is where they’ve been hidden,” Sophia exclaimed. Of course it was the perfect place. If one didn’t look too closely, they would have assumed they were more botany books.
“Some of these we never got a chance to read.” Eliza glanced around as if waiting to be caught. “We need to figure out how we can get them to our room.”
“We can’t take them,” Sophia cried. As much as she did wish to read them, Eliza needed no further inspiration for her already vivid imagination.
“They will never know,” Eliza argued as she took the books from Rosemary and sorted what they’d read and what they hadn’t. “What are these?” She set everything else aside and held three books that were on top of a second stack. “Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger , Deamonologie, by King James, and Selected Cases of Confidences, the Discovery of Witches by Matthew Hopkins.”
Eliza glanced up, her eyes wide. She hurried from the room and stopped at the large counter and set the books down beside the items they’d found in the crate. “I know what Miss Morris has been doing.”
“What?” Sophia asked slowly.
“Isn’t it clear?” She turned to her friends. “Westbrook practices the black arts. It was reported on in the newssheet.”
“Gossip,” Sophia reminded them.
“Black arts is basically the same thing as witchcraft,” Eliza said, ignoring Sophia. “I bet Miss Morris figured out he was a witch.”
“Aren’t male witches warlocks?” Rosemary frowned.
“How could Miss Morris learn that he was a witch?” As far as Sophia knew, her teacher had only spoken with Mr. Westbrook once, when she accompanied Olivia and Victoria to Harrington Manor.
“She reads the same newssheets as we do, and she’s been to his home. She probably found something that made her suspiciou
s” Eliza said with excitement. “I bet he’s here for nefarious reasons and she is looking for ways to stop him.”
It was all Sophia could do not to laugh. Mr. Westbrook was no more a witch or warlock than she was, but that wouldn’t stop Eliza from investigating, which would lead to them being in trouble once again. But at least it took Eliza’s attention off the beach, cave, and Creighton Manor, which was of the utmost importance at the moment.
“Though I fear it may be too late.”
“For what?” Rosemary asked.
“For Miss Morris.” She picked up the doll. “This could be a poppet. They are used in incantations and spells, just like everything else in this crate.”
“How do you know so much about witchcraft?” Sophia demanded and then narrowed her eyes on Eliza. “Unless you are one yourself.”
“Don’t be silly,” Eliza dismissed. “I haven’t time for that nonsense.”
But she has time to look for witches where there were none. Sophia sighed and sank down on a stool.
“However, I have read enough, as you well know,” Eliza answered with authority.
“Fiction,” Sophia reminded her.
“All fiction is based on some truth,” Eliza huffed.
Sophia laughed, unable to help herself. “You believe Miss Morris is a witch?”
“She may not have been before, but what if he got to her?”
“I would be more apt to believe that Miss Morris is trying to figure out how to defeat a witch than become one herself.” Sophia picked at a thread on her gown and shook her head. As with the vampire and ghost hunt, those two would now embark on a witch hunt, and there was only one thing she could do to stop them..
“Rosemary, put the books back the exact way you found them,” Eliza ordered. “We will take these three back to our rooms so we can read them and determine a way to save Miss Morris and defeat Westbrook.”
“You do realize in a matter of moments you went from believing Miss Morris was trying to defeat a witch to deciding she now is one.”
Eliza blinked at her. “The evidence is right before us.” She spread out her arms, revealing the doll, stones, candles and dried herbs. “These are used in witchcraft, as you well know.”
“I know no such thing,” Sophia defended. “And I think you’re finally ready for Bedlam, if you must know.”
Eliza’s eyes grew round as she sucked in a breath. “You will see that I’m right, Sophia Trent.”
“Aren’t you afraid Miss Morris might notice that they’re missing?” Concern marred Rosemary’s brow.
Eliza stood and bit the corner of her lip. “Perhaps or perhaps not.” Then she lifted her head with determination. “We’ve got to take them. He’s led her to the dark side, we must determine how to get her back.”
“We don’t even know she’s been taken to the dark side,” Sophia said as some of her patience began to run thin.
“Of course she has.” She gestured to the items on the counter again. “He already has her in his thrall.”
Sophia was done arguing. Besides, this would keep Eliza occupied, and it was far less dangerous than anything else she could be doing. She put the items in the box and set it back where they’d found it. In doing so, she knocked over the broom.
“Don’t touch that,” Rosemary nearly screamed.
“Why?”
“What if it’s enchanted or something?”
Sophia grabbed the broom and leaned it back against the counter. “I’m sure we would have noticed anyone flying about on a broom.”
“That’s only because she probably hasn’t figured out how to do so yet,” muttered Eliza.
Gabe paced through his chamber and wished he could relax and sleep, but the longer the days stretched, the harder it became to do either.
Five days since he’d seen Miss Morris. Five days since he’d kissed and held her in his arms. Five days with no word of shipments. Five days with no word from Mr. Marseau, who happened to be Miss Morris’ father, which turned Gabe’s mind to thinking about Miss Morris and their kiss.
Claudia Morris, born Claudette Marseau, daughter of aristocracy, born in Nantes, and her only living relatives a father, baron turned smuggler, and two brothers. He’d read all of it in her file. Had there not been a bloody Revolution, Claudette would have been presented in Versailles and undoubtedly been married by now.
He should have never kissed Miss Morris, but the desire had been too strong to fight. That had never happened to him before. He’d surprised her and had shocked himself.
A smile pulled at his lips when he remembered how she tried to assure him she never behaved in that manner. Of course she hadn’t. She’d never even been kissed before. If she had, the man who had done the kissing had done a very poor job of it because hers were far too innocent and tentative, as if she were learning.
Such beauty and innocence in one woman, in addition to being perfectly formed. She fit against him as if they were two pieces of the same puzzle. Had he not pulled away when he had, there was a very good chance he might have ruined her, as Miss Morris had been making no objection to his attention. Had they gone further, he’d be a betrothed gentleman right now. A gentleman would not take liberties with a respectable woman like Miss Morris without understanding and accepting the significance of his actions. However, the idea of having Miss Morris as a wife wouldn’t exactly be disagreeable.
Yet, it would be for her. Someone in his profession did not take a wife. He’d need to disappear too often without telling her where he was going, and there was always a very real chance he’d not return. And what of any children? They’d be orphaned, or at least fatherless.
Gabe couldn’t risk being alone with Miss Morris again, or he might lose his head and it would be all over for both of them. He’d need to retire from his position with the Home Office because he couldn’t leave a wife alone for so long and so often, especially a woman like Miss Morris. Then where would he be? It wasn’t as though he was wealthy. Well, that wasn’t exactly accurate. He didn’t have the riches he was raised with, but he could buy Harrington Manor outright from the Home Office, which he assumed actually owned the estate, and he could provide a comfortable home, but the inaction would drive him to Bedlam. He wasn’t cut out to be a country gentleman with little to do but hunt and manage an estate.
“Blast! Why am I even considering these possibilities?” He shoved his fingers through his hair as he stopped and looked out his chamber window toward the school. It wasn’t just Miss Morris, who intrigued him like no other woman, but his sisters were a concern as well. Soon they would leave Wiggons’ School, and he’d need a place where they could all live together. Lord Hopkins was correct. Gabe couldn’t take them to his bachelor quarters in St. James, nor could he make a place from them in the house in Dalston. Not that anything ever occurred within those walls other than meetings when he and his friends had to gather in private. However, his sisters being in close proximity to the property would ruin them before they ever made their entrance into Society, and the two already needed to overcome the gossip and questions about their birth.
Gabe sighed. If he were truthful with himself, this wasn’t the first he’d thought of taking time away from his profession. It was necessary for his sisters. It was also necessary that he begin now. Society would never believe he’d suddenly become upstanding on the eve of Olivia and Victoria’s first ball, but they might if he reformed a year before their entrance into society. His sisters deserved happiness and love.
Perhaps he could request assignments that kept him in England and close to London. Once his sisters married, he could return to the life he’d been living. Nobody would think it odd that he became a gentleman for his sisters then reverted to his sinful ways once they were married. But how could he achieve that goal and see that their future was secured?
His stomach tightened. There was only one thing a rake could do to bring respectability to his person and that was to marry.
Was the very woman he needed as his wif
e at the next property? He barely knew Miss Morris, but she was the first woman he’d truly desired in a very long time. She was all he thought about since he’d kissed her, and she haunted his dreams. Further, her life was here, her friends, so when he did return to his work, she’d not be left alone.
Gabe began to nod his head as the idea of marrying became more agreeable. Further, he had the perfect opportunity to court her. It could be weeks before they learned anything of the French, and he’d make good use of that time.
As he made up his mind, a light appeared in the belvedere. Gabe grinned and grabbed his cloak.
Claudia swiped her damp hands against her skirts as she paced in the office at the back of the belvedere and waited for Mr. Westbrook. It wasn’t what she had to tell him that made her nervous, it was the idea of seeing him. She’d had five days to come to terms with their kiss. Five days of doing everything in her power to remain busy and focused on her students and lessons so that she was not thinking of him or how it felt to be in his arms.
Five days of trying to forget. Unfortunately, no matter how successful she might have been during the day, she relived every moment of his kiss and touch when she retired each evening. So much so, that she longed to experience it again. It was wrong, but if he wished to kiss her again, Claudia would not stop him.
He was a rake, rogue, and spy. Once the mission was complete, he’d be gone, and nothing good could come from being kissed by Westbrook again. She’d be ruined and forgotten when he was gone. However, she’d have the memories for her long spinster life of teaching young ladies.
Of course, she assumed he’d wish to kiss her again. It could have been so awful for him that he didn’t wish to experience it a second time. If even half the rumors were true, he preferred his mistresses not only beautiful but also experienced. He may have called her beautiful, but she was far from experienced.
And, why was she even considering the possibilities of being more to Westbrook than what had occurred? She was a minor distraction in a village that offered nothing more than spectacular views of the ocean.
