Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  “But Nate is my friend, and he promised I could ride Juniper when my leg is better.”

  Maggie clenched her napkin in her lap, pain coursing through her. It was bad enough Nate had turned his back on Maggie. He’d also crushed her sister’s dreams. She would have a hard time forgiving him for that. He should never have made promises he didn’t intend to keep—to her or to Violet.

  Maggie laid her napkin on the table. “I know you’re sad about leaving Morningside, but we can’t stay here any longer.” She glanced around the lovely room. “This is not our home or our life.”

  Tears filled Violet’s eyes. “I wish it were.”

  The truth hit Maggie’s heart and stole her breath away. Violet wasn’t the only one who’d been drawn to life at Morningside. Maggie had grown accustomed to seeing Nate every day and sharing his life with him. And in the secret corner of her heart, she’d wished he might fall in love with her and ask her to marry him. But now that could never be, and she’d been a fool to even consider the possibility.

  Compassion softened Grandmother’s faded-blue eyes as she looked from Maggie to Violet. “Why don’t we walk down to the stable and say good-bye to the horses?”

  Violet’s face lit up. “I’d like that.” She rose and reached for her crutches.

  “You two go ahead.” Maggie laid her napkin on the table. “I’ll see if I can find some suitcases we can borrow and get started packing.”

  Violet balanced on one foot, then she adjusted her crutches and vaulted toward the doorway.

  “Violet, slow down!” Grandmother rose and hustled after the girl at a surprisingly quick pace.

  Jackson stepped forward and removed Grandmother’s plate. “I will see to those cases for you, miss. How many would you like?”

  “Two, if they’re fairly large.” Clara had told her to keep the dresses she’d given her, and they’d sewn a few more with the fabric Mrs. Burnell had found for them.

  “Very good, miss.” He shuffled over and removed her plate.

  “Thank you, Jackson. You’ve been very kind.”

  He stopped and sent her a tight-lipped smile. “You’re welcome, miss. It’s been a pleasure having you here at Morningside.”

  Maggie’s throat tightened. She looked away and blinked back her tears. She didn’t want to embarrass Jackson or herself, so she rose and walked out of the dining room.

  She’d grown quite fond of Jackson. All the staff members had served them with respect and quiet efficiency. But it was more than bidding farewell to the servants that caused her tears this morning—much more.

  She climbed the stairs, her decision and departure weighing her down and making each step a struggle. When she reached her room, she crossed to the wardrobe, took out several dresses, and laid them on the bed. She ran her hand over the soft blue fabric of the top dress. She’d only worn it once, and she doubted she would have occasion to wear such a lovely dress when she returned to Heatherton. Perhaps she should return it to Clara so she could wear it when she was out of mourning.

  A knock sounded at the door. Maggie looked up and called, “Come in.”

  Lilly entered carrying two large suitcases. “Mr. Jackson said you’ll be needing these.” She set them on the floor by the bed. “Are you leaving us?”

  Maggie nodded and had to force out her reply. “Yes. We’re going to stay with Mrs. Birdwell.”

  Lilly’s eyebrows rose. “The old widow who lives near the mill?”

  “Yes.” Maggie lifted one suitcase onto the bed. “Reverend Samuelson made the arrangements. We don’t know her well, but it’s kind of her to offer us a place to stay.” Maggie bit her lower lip. “I’m just not sure…” Tears flooded Maggie’s eyes again, and she sank down on the bed. “Oh, Lilly. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I hear she is a bit of a hermit, but I don’t think it will be too bad.”

  Maggie released a half laugh, half sob. “That’s not what worries me.”

  “What is it, then?” Lilly sat beside her, her eyes filled with concern.

  Maggie tried to steady her voice. “Yesterday, Nate took us to Lynemouth, and we visited a man who used to be a groundskeeper here. He’s the one who kept the keys to the boathouse at the time of the accident.”

  Lilly’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”

  “He told us Nate’s father took the boat out before us that day.” Maggie poured out the rest of the story, including her decision to take what she’d learned to the police and Nate’s refusal to believe his father could be responsible for damaging the boat.

  “Oh, Maggie, that’s dreadful. I’m so sorry.”

  Maggie nodded, then sniffed and brushed a tear from her cheek. “You must promise not to tell anyone. I don’t want word to get back to Mrs. Harcourt.”

  “Of course. It’s our secret.” Lilly glanced at the dresses on the bed. “Shall I help you pack?”

  “Thank you, Lilly.” Maggie walked to her bedside table in search of a handkerchief. She’d used one last night to dry her tears while she wrote down what she learned yesterday. After she finished recording those events, she tucked the papers in her mother’s Bible and found comfort reading a few psalms.

  Lilly folded a dress and laid it in the suitcase. “I heard the men from Clifton are meeting with the owners today. I’m praying they can settle things quickly and avoid the strike.”

  “Yes, that would be best for everyone.” Maggie scanned her little bedside table and stopped. Hadn’t she left the Bible face up? A prickle of unease traveled across her shoulders. She reached for the Bible and slid her finger to the page marked by the papers, but rather than opening to Psalm 36, where she’d left off, it opened to the fourth chapter of Ezekiel.

  A tremor shook her hand, and she glanced at Lilly. “Has anyone been in to clean our room?”

  Lilly shook her head. “I came in this morning, but you keep it so neat there’s hardly anything to do.”

  “Does anyone else come in besides you?”

  “Only Nancy to tend the fires.” Lilly looked around the room. “Why? Is something wrong?”

  “Last night I marked my place in Psalms with the papers that have all the information I’ve collected about the accident, but now they’re in a different book.”

  Lilly sent her a doubtful glance. “You were upset. Maybe you forgot where you were reading.”

  “No, I’m sure it was the Psalms, and look, now they’re in Ezekiel.” She held out the Bible.

  Lilly crossed toward her and glanced at the open page. “Maybe your grandmother or Violet moved them.”

  Maggie thought for a moment, then shook her head. “They were asleep last night when I was reading, and we were all together this morning before we went downstairs. The only time we were out of the room was during breakfast.” She clutched the Bible to her chest, questions spinning through her mind.

  Lilly sent a nervous glance toward the door. “I suppose someone else could’ve come in, but who? And why would they want to?”

  “I don’t know.” An uneasy feeling quivered through her stomach. She was probably being silly. No one besides Nate, Lilly, and Grandmother knew about her search. She closed the Bible and placed it in the suitcase, then folded in a dress. Her thoughts turned back to leaving Morningside, and she sighed. It didn’t seem right now, especially with the disagreement between her and Nate, but the decision had been made.

  With Lilly’s help, she finished packing in just a few minutes.

  Lilly snapped the latches on the smaller suitcase. “Shall I ring for Andrew to bring these down?”

  “No, I can do it.” Maggie reached for the larger case and hoisted it off the bed.

  Lilly lifted the other case. “I’ll get this one, then.”

  Maggie took one last look around the lovely room, then followed Lilly out and shut the door.

  As they descended the stairs, Jackson hurried forward. “May I take those cases for you, miss?”

  “No, it’s all right, Jackson. Lilly and I can handle them.�
��

  “Very well.” Jackson crossed the entryway and opened the front door for them. “I’ll send word to McGrath that you’re ready to leave. He’ll bring the carriage around directly.”

  Maggie thanked him, then set her case on the gravel drive and looked across the gardens and bridge toward Heatherton. Rather than lifting her spirits, it made her heart ache even more. This was not the way she wanted to leave Morningside.

  “I’d better get back to work.” Lilly sent her a worried glance. “Will you be all right?”

  Maggie nodded and embraced Lilly. “Take care. Come and see us on Sunday afternoon if you have time.”

  Lilly nodded. “I will, or I’ll send a note.” She squeezed Maggie’s hand, then hurried back into the house.

  The sound of horse’s hooves on the iron bridge over the ravine reached Maggie. She lifted her hand and shaded her eyes. A small open carriage pulled by one horse started up the winding road toward the house. An older man wearing a brown suit and cap drove the carriage, and a middle-aged woman sat next to him.

  As they came closer Maggie recognized the driver and blinked in surprise. “Good morning, Mr. Billington.”

  “Good day to you, Miss Lounsbury.” He halted the carriage beside her and tipped his hat. “I hope you’re well.”

  “Yes, sir. I am. What brings you to Morningside?”

  “We’re on our way to visit my nephew, but I was hoping I might speak to Mr. Harcourt. Is he at home?”

  “I’m afraid he’s gone in to Heatherton. I’m not sure when he plans to return.”

  Mr. Billington’s brow creased. “Well, perhaps you can pass on some information to him.”

  Maggie nodded, though she wasn’t sure when she would see Nate.

  “I was thinking about our conversation yesterday, and I remembered something else. It might not be important, but I thought it best to come and tell Mr. Harcourt and let him decide.” He leaned down, and Maggie stepped closer. “There was another man with Mr. Harcourt the day of the boating accident.”

  Maggie straightened. “There was?”

  “Yes. I don’t recall his name. He worked in the stable, but only for a short time.”

  “Why would Mr. Harcourt take someone from the stable when he went fishing?”

  “I suppose he brought him along so he didn’t have to row and could focus on fishing.”

  That made sense, but it still might be important to find out more about the man. “Can you give me a description of him?” Perhaps she could ask the groomsmen if they remembered him.

  Mr. Billington nodded, then squinted toward the gardens. “He was about forty, short and heavyset.” He huffed out a breath. “They say he slept more than he worked. I caught him myself one day, dozing in the hay. Then Mr. Hornshaw told me he up and quit without giving notice.”

  “Is there anything else you remember about his appearance?”

  Mr. Billington rubbed his chin. “He had light hair, pale eyes, and a drooping mustache.”

  The description struck a chord, and the hair on the back of Maggie’s neck rose. “Are you sure you don’t remember his name?”

  Mr. Billington rubbed his chin. “It was something like Arnold or Ronald or…”

  “Roland?”

  The old man’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s it—Roland! Roland Dixon.”

  Maggie’s pulse surged. The man who was blackmailing Helen had been with Mr. Harcourt the day the boat went down. That gave them another suspect, one who was definitely tied to Helen and had a reason to want to silence Maggie’s father.

  Mr. Billington’s silver eyebrows rose. “You know the man?”

  “No, but I’ve seen him, and I think he had a reason to damage the boat and hope it would go down.”

  Mr. Billington’s daughter’s eyes widened. “Goodness, Father. What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “Not to worry, my dear.” Mr. Billington patted her hand. “I’m sure Mr. Harcourt and Miss Lounsbury will know what to do about it.”

  His daughter glanced at Maggie with a look of apprehension in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Mr. Billington. I appreciate you coming all this way.”

  “It was no trouble, no trouble at all. If I remember anything else, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, Miss Lounsbury.” He lifted the reins and urged the horses forward.

  Grandmother and Violet passed Mr. Billington’s carriage as they walked back toward the house.

  Grandmother stepped up beside Maggie. “Who was that?”

  “Mr. Billington. He was a groundskeeper here a few years ago.” She wanted to say more, but Violet swung to a stop beside them.

  Grandmother’s brows dipped, and she sent Maggie a questioning glance.

  “I’ll tell you more later,” Maggie whispered.

  The Harcourts’ carriage rolled around the side of the house and came to a stop by the front door. The driver hopped down. “Shall I load these bags for you, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Maggie glanced at the house, rising like a huge, dark castle against the rocky hillside. A symphony of memories played through her mind, with high notes and low, making her throat tighten and her heart ache.

  A curtain shifted in an upper-story window, and Helen Harcourt looked out. Even from this distance, her piercing gaze and the stern set of her mouth relayed a silent warning.

  Maggie turned away and reached for the carriage door. She would not wait for the driver to help them into the carriage. The sooner she could take her grandmother and sister away from Morningside, the safer they would be.

  Helen Harcourt could not be trusted. Maggie was sure of that now.

  With the information Mr. Billington had given her, she could tie Roland Dixon to the boating accident, and it was time to move forward and see that justice was done.

  Nate knocked on Reverend Avery Samuelson’s front door, then stood back and debated how he would explain arriving more than an hour early for their appointment. The truth was, he’d left Morningside before breakfast to avoid seeing Maggie, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit that to his friend.

  He frowned toward the deserted churchyard, replaying the events of the past twenty-four hours and trying to decide which bothered him more, Maggie’s decision to leave Morningside and go to the police or his own poor response.

  He had been so hopeful about their growing closeness. But now it seemed she couldn’t wait to put as much distance between them as possible. And the speed at which everything had changed left him feeling a bit stunned.

  He needed wisdom, and that was why he’d come to talk to his friend before they were scheduled to attend the negotiation meeting between Clifton’s board of directors and the leaders of the workers. It was just after nine now. That should give him and Samuelson plenty of time to sort out the issues before the meeting at eleven.

  The door opened and Samuelson looked out at him. His eyebrows rose. “Nate, I wasn’t expecting you until ten-thirty. Did I get the time wrong?”

  “No, I’m early.”

  “Please come in.” Samuelson stepped back and opened the door wider.

  Nate shifted his weight to the other foot and looked past Samuelson’s shoulder into the parlor. There was no sign of Mrs. Grady, Samuelson’s cook and housekeeper, but he didn’t want her to overhear their conversation. “Would you care to go for a walk?”

  Samuelson studied his face, a question flickering in his eyes, but then he nodded. “Let me get my jacket and hat.”

  Nate stepped into the front garden and glanced up at the cloudy sky. The wind ruffled the leaves of the tall elm tree by the garden gate, bringing with it the scent of rain. He hoped the shower would hold off until they returned. It wouldn’t bolster his image with the board to arrive dripping wet for the negotiations.

  Samuelson stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Do you have a destination in mind?”

  “I’d prefer the countryside to the village.”

  “Very well.” Samuelso
n motioned to the left, and they set off at a comfortable pace.

  After a few minutes they passed through the edge of the village and started down a country lane bordered by hedgerows and pastures on either side.

  Samuelson glanced at Nate. “You seem lost in thought this morning. Is there something you want to discuss?”

  Nate nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. He had sought Samuelson’s advice a few days ago, and his friend had patiently listened to the whole story. “Remember I told you I promised Maggie I would help her look into the events surrounding the boating accident?”

  “Yes, how is that going?”

  Nate brought Samuelson up to date with what they’d learned from Mr. Hornshaw and their visit to Lynemouth to see Mr. Billington. Finally, Nate mentioned his father had taken out the boat the morning of the accident.

  Samuelson’s steps slowed, and he sent Nate a questioning glance.

  Nate shifted his gaze away. “Unfortunately, Maggie and I look at those same facts and come to very different conclusions.”

  “What is her opinion?”

  “She believes Helen lied to my father, and he was so angry he purposely damaged the boat to do away with Daniel Lounsbury.”

  “But you disagree?”

  “Yes, of course. I don’t believe my father was capable of doing such a thing. He might have been self-absorbed and more concerned about his work than his family, but he wasn’t a murderer.”

  “So, in light of all you’ve learned, what do you think happened?”

  “I believe the police were right from the beginning. It was a tragic accident.” He was quiet for a few seconds, considering the weight of his words. “Or perhaps Maggie and her father damaged the hull of the boat when they pushed it over rough ground and into the lake.”

  “That’s a possibility…but Maggie’s conclusion that your father or someone else purposely damaged the boat makes sense as well, especially after what you’ve told me about your stepmother and father.”

  Nate tipped his head to acknowledge Samuelson’s comment, though he was not convinced his father was involved. “Now Maggie plans to go to the police and tell them what she thinks happened.”