All around him the forest was alive. Musty scents of mossy foliage and damp earth abounded. Woodpeckers and collared doves swooped between the thick branches overhead, and gray squirrels jumped and played amid the brush. Colin stepped forward, and as he did, his riding boot sank into the soft carpet of leaves and mud.
Colin knelt down to obtain a better view of the prints, but the day’s fading light and the long gray shadows made it difficult to identify anything distinctive.
“Someone has been here, that is certain,” Colin mused, straightening to his full height. “Are you sure your gamekeeper did not make these himself?”
“I’m certain.” Ellison’s gruff tone hinted at frustration. “Harding knows his own shoes. There is something else you must see. It’s over this way.”
Despite the sentinel trees creating a fortress around the clearing, a breeze, cool and cutting, threatened to unsettle Colin’s wide-brimmed hat. He watched with curiosity as Ellison stepped gingerly over the muddy undergrowth. As the magistrate for the village of Northrop, Colin had grown accustomed to the locals and residents of nearby villages seeking him out with every manner of complaint. But typically, the reports he received were of little consequence: a missing goat or an unpaid minor debt.
But something about this particular report was different.
“It’s over here,” Ellison called, his voice muffled by a sharp uptake in the wind.
Colin followed as bid, unsure of what he was looking for.
“This is what Harding found yesterday whilst clearing the hare traps.” Ellison pulled back several low-hanging branches and motioned for Colin to draw near. “Grab the lantern. You’ll need it to see.”
Colin unlatched the lantern from Ellison’s saddle and, holding it out before him, approached the exposed opening. There behind the curtain of brushwood and thicket was a short wooden door propped ajar. He shifted the lantern so the meager light would illuminate the space beyond. For as far back as the light could shine, he saw them—cask after cask. Additional stacked crates lined the earthen wall of the small cavern.
“Do you know what that is?” Ellison’s gruff words were more a demand than a question.
Colin nodded. He knew exactly what he was looking at.
Ellison’s jaw twitched as he dropped the leafy curtain, concealing the door. “You and I go back a long ways, Galloway. You know I am not one to be overly concerned with legalistic ballyhoo. Far from it. But I am not so daft that I don’t comprehend what is happening here.”
For a brief time after serving in the army, Colin had worked on the southern coast as an excise officer, and the sight before him was chilling in its familiarity. Now that the war with France was over, smuggling activity was once again becoming more prominent. Even as recently as a year ago, news of such happenings in their area was rare, but ever since several coaching agencies added routes through Northrop to London, newcomers came to their village daily. While most of the residents were pleased with this increase in local traffic and commerce, Ellison had always been outspokenly against it.
This discovery only added fuel to his fire.
Ellison stepped back to his horse and adjusted the stirrup. “If these rogues and scallywags want to avoid taxes, that is their business. I couldn’t care less if they risk their necks for a bit of cheap wine. But my family has been here for almost two centuries. We’ve fought off poachers and gypsies, and I’ll not tolerate blackguards. ’Tis no secret that Emberwilde is facing difficult circumstances, times being what they are, and I’ll not allow such shenanigans to mar our name.”
Colin drew a deep breath and blew it out. No, he would not tolerate smugglers either, not when he was responsible for upholding the lawfulness of this area. Smugglers were a dangerous lot, cunning and crafty, not easily deterred, and fearless. Nothing could stand in the way of them and their profits.
Colin stepped back. “For now, leave everything as it is. I’ll contact the revenue officer and see if there has been any word of smuggling on the Lockton Route. He’d know if anything of this sort has been reported. We can decide how to proceed from there. For now post a guard or two here to keep an eye on things.”
Ellison eyed him as if making a decision. “I’ll not merely keep an eye on things long,” he finally said, returning to his horse. “If you can’t help me put a stop to it, I’ll find a way to do it myself.” He paused, hand on the beast’s flank. “I trust you won’t give me cause to lose confidence in you, son.”
Colin knew Ellison’s words were not to be taken lightly. Though kind, even paternal at times, Ellison was also an entitled and ambitious man whose fiery temper often clouded his judgment.
“Whoever put this here will come back for it eventually,” Colin said. “We will be ready for them when they do.”
Ellison pinned his narrow gaze on Colin. “I’ll offer fifty pounds to the man who gives good information on this. Disseminate that offer as you see fit, but I must insist on your discretion. You know all too well that such talk would only aggravate the already jaded view of this forest. As it stands, my own wife will not even set foot in here. I would barely be able to get her out from behind Emberwilde’s walls if she thought there was criminal activity in these woods.”
“Understood.”
Ellison mounted his horse and then turned back to Colin. “Good. Come back with me to the house. You can talk with Harding yourself, and we’ve other matters to discuss.”
Colin mounted Sampson and followed Ellison out of the forest. Rain drizzled from the pewter skies and a sharp wind howled from the north. He was eager to be out of the moisture, but he had little confidence that even getting out of the bitter spring elements would quiet the apprehension building within him. It had been years since he had set foot in the Emberwilde Forest, but based on the evidence he saw, difficult times could be waiting for them. He was hardly one to shirk away from a problem, but if experience had taught him anything, it was that this particular bit of land could be an unpredictable place. Now that he had returned, he could not deny the unidentifiable hold the Emberwilde Forest had on him.
Chapter Four
The journey from Fellsworth to Emberwilde Hall was a slow one made even slower by the muddy roads and gusty winds. The terrain evolved from rolling green countryside to heavily forested land.
Isabel and Lizzie broke their journey at a small inn, where they ate a light meal of bread and cheese. Isabel was disappointed that Mr. Bradford did not join them, but he had begged their forgiveness as he tended his horse. Once the driver changed out the coach’s horses, they embarked once more.
Shortly after resuming, Lizzie stretched out on the opposite seat and fell asleep. It was a wonder the child could sleep, Isabel thought, for every so often they would hit a rut or stone in the road, causing the entire carriage to lurch.
Without a timepiece, Isabel soon lost track of the hour. With only the color of the overcast pewter sky as her guide, she was beginning to think that they could not possibly arrive at Emberwilde before darkness fell. She did not like the idea of being out after sundown with men whom she did not know.
Isabel returned her attention to the scene at her window, and what she saw made her straighten.
There, beyond the crest of trees, the black spires of a great house jutted toward the sky.
Her pulse quickened in an intricate mixture of uncertainty and excitement. It was the moment she had both dreaded and anticipated since leaving Fellsworth.
The carriage rumbled over a bridge of stone and earth, and the structure once again disappeared behind a thick veil of tall trees. Shadows flitted intermittently across their carriage, flickering between darkness and light. After several moments, the space between shadows lengthened. The carriage slowed.
The sudden change of pace shifted Isabel on her seat, and she reached out her hand to steady herself.
“Why are we stopping?” Lizzie’s voice was soft as she woke. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her fist and sat upright. “Have we arrived?
”
Isabel did not answer. Instead, she angled herself to get a better view.
As the carriage drew to a halt, she squinted and saw a large man on a brown horse come around from the trees’ edge to the carriage. She bit her lip. Tales of highwaymen and vandals manifested in her mind.
But this man, dressed in a sharp black coat and tall shiny boots, was not moving fast enough to hijack them, nor did his movements indicate any urgency. He was of a heavy build, with gray side whiskers and silver hair that hung below his low-brimmed hat.
A second man appeared behind him, much younger and thinner, also on horseback.
The driver and the first man engaged in conversation, but the tones of their voices were so low she could not make out a word. Relief rushed her when Mr. Bradford came around the carriage into her view. Surely these were not miscreants or vagabonds, not if Mr. Bradford spoke to them with such ease. Her heart raced within her at the uncertainty of the moment.
The men laughed, and then the older horseman leaned back to look into the carriage. Light eyes fixed on her. He dismounted, made his way through the mud toward the carriage, and opened the door just wide enough to see inside.
His voice boomed. “Miss Isabel Creston?”
Isabel straightened, the rate of her heartbeat increasing within her. “Yes, sir, I am Isabel Creston.”
She moved to exit the carriage, but his protest stopped her.
“Stay put, dear girl, stay put. There is far too much mud, and I would hardly want you to spoil your slippers, for my wife would have my head for it! We’ve been waiting for your arrival. I am your uncle, Charles Ellison. My, but it has been a long time, child. A long time indeed. I daresay you do not remember the last time you set foot on Emberwilde land.”
The words shocked her. She did not recall ever stepping on Emberwilde soil. “I do not, sir.”
“Well, it is high time you returned. And you are most welcome here.” He looked past her to Lizzie, who had straightened and put her feet on the floor. Her eyes were wide, her lips pressed shut.
“And who is this?” her uncle asked, chuckling at the sight. “Have we a stowaway?”
Isabel forced a smile at his attempt at humor. “No, sir. This is my sister, Lizzie Creston.”
Uncle Charles jerked his head up, his jowls shaking at the motion. “Sister, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
He huffed under his breath and looked at the men behind him. “Well now, this is most interesting. We did not know of a sister. But of course, you are both welcome, and we shall sort out the details. Family is always welcome within Emberwilde’s walls. How do you do, Lizzie?”
Lizzie’s words were impressively polite. “I am well, thank you.”
He smiled, amused, then stepped back out of the way. “Allow me to introduce my colleague, Mr. Colin Galloway. He is the local magistrate. He will be the first of many of our friends and neighbors that I’ve no doubt my wife will introduce you to in the coming days.”
Isabel turned her attention to the man atop the horse. He did not dismount, but tipped his hat and lowered his head in a bow. She noted how young he appeared to be a magistrate, but then again, she had never met one. None, anyway, besides old Mr. Newgate, Fellsworth’s magistrate.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Galloway,” she said in her most confident voice.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Creston.”
Her uncle shifted to the side. “And you, of course, are acquainted with Mr. Bradford.”
She looked past him toward Mr. Bradford, whose bright smile and direct gaze made her feel almost as if they shared a secret, although she had no idea what such a secret would be. She hoped a flush did not color her cheeks. “I am, Uncle.”
“Well then, I shall have the driver convey you on, for I do believe more rain is imminent, and I am sure you would like to arrive before the heavens break free. Your aunt and cousin are both eagerly awaiting your arrival, so it will not do to keep them waiting. They have become concerned one of the horses went lame or a wheel was broken and asked that I send a rider out in search of you. So you’d best be off before my wife is quite overtaken with the fits.”
Isabel smiled at her uncle’s words. She could not help but like him. “I hope we have not caused her too much distress.”
“You will soon learn my wife is easily distressed, but my daughter calms her quite well.”
“So we are almost there?” Lizzie piped in. “We’ve been riding forever!”
Isabel reached back and touched her sister’s leg in an effort to keep her from saying something inappropriate, but to her surprise, her uncle laughed.
“Forever, you say? That is a long time. Well then, I ought to let you get about your travels.” He turned and pointed toward a distant place in the sky. “You cannot see it for the trees, but once you emerge from this section of the woods you will see Emberwilde. I daresay you will arrive in no more than five minutes.” Her uncle signaled to the driver that it was time to proceed. “I will see you at the house, I am sure.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
But when he pushed the carriage door closed, it did not latch all the way, and even though she did not mean to eavesdrop, she could not help but overhear her uncle’s rough voice.
“Not one, but two, gentlemen! Ah, but what is another mouth to feed. She’s a pretty lass and will catch herself a husband in record time, if I am a judge of such things. What say you, Galloway? A man in your situation needs a wife.”
At the words, Isabel’s heart sank and she leaned back against the seat. The blood rushing through her ears and the howling wind prevented her from hearing more. Her uncle’s welcome had seemed genuine, or so she had thought. Was he jesting, or did he resent their presence? Had he really just spoken to the other man about marriage?
The carriage was set into motion once more, swaying both Isabel and Lizzie, and Isabel made certain the door was secure. As the scenery began to flicker by, her uncle’s final words echoed mercilessly within her. She had always wanted to marry one day. What young lady would not? But to hear her uncle speak of it with such enthusiasm, and on the very day of her arrival, made her ill at ease.
Within moments, Lizzie scrambled to her knees once more. “I see it! Look, Isabel, there it is!”
Despite a sudden jolt, Isabel steadied her position and craned her neck to glimpse the majestic spires reaching into the stormy sky.
Emberwilde Hall.
Like a bolt of spring lightning, a haunting sensation streaked through Isabel’s limbs as she took in the ancient structure of gray stone and glass through the pockets of trees and brush. The sight pushed her uncle’s words aside, and she squinted to better make it out through the drizzle and fog. As she did, a vague recollection emerged from the recesses of her mind, scratching, pawing for recognition.
But the shifting memory would not take full form. She thought she remembered being told that her mother had come from wealth. That memory, at least, must hold merit if Emberwilde was associated with it in the slightest.
Isabel leaned back against the seat, blowing out her breath and drawing another deep one. Lizzie pressed her fingertips to the clean window, the angst and frustration replaced with expectant enthusiasm for the unknown. Even as Lizzie’s excitement intensified, Isabel’s nerves tightened. In a matter of minutes she would come face-to-face with the pieces of her life that had for so long been a mystery.
Whatever her father’s reasoning for keeping her aunt a secret, it could not matter now.
“It looks just like a castle.” Lizzie’s breathless words of awe pulled Isabel from her thoughts. For the first time all day, the little girl’s cheeks boasted a rosy hue, and her brown eyes were wide with wonder. “Do you think it has a ghost?”
“A ghost?” Isabel repeated with a quick laugh. “Now what would give you that idea?”
“Jane said that all castles have ghosts.”
“Well, it isn’t a castle,” Isabel corrected, but even as she leaned forward t
o assess the building rising over the treetops, the beauty of it caught in her throat. “And there are no such things as ghosts.”
Isabel rested her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes. In a few minutes, all would be different. There would be no going back—ever.
Chapter Five
You’ve arrived at last!”
A woman clad in lavender satin met Lizzie and Isabel when they arrived in Emberwilde’s front hall. She had rushed from an adjoining room, the suddenness of her appearance almost taking Isabel by surprise.
The woman was the epitome of elegance, or perhaps frivolity. Black lace trimmed every inch of the gown’s hems and patterned the ample bodice. Her light gray strands of hair were piled high on her head and covered with an intricately woven black cap. Isabel knew little of fashion, but her sense of propriety suggested that the ensemble was far too ornate for an evening at home. The stranger’s face flushed pink as she rushed toward Isabel, arms outstretched.
“Oh, my dear, my dear! I am so pleased you’ve arrived!”
She crushed Isabel in a tight embrace.
Unprepared for the display of affection, not to mention the woman’s overwhelming scent of lily of the valley, Isabel stiffened and resisted the urge to step backward. Lizzie’s hand slid from her own as the woman squeezed her tighter.
The woman had to be her aunt. Who else could she be?
After several uncomfortable moments, Margaret Ellison held her niece at arm’s length, her eyes wide as she made little effort to hide her assessment of Isabel’s person.
“Beautiful,” her aunt exclaimed with a sharp shake of her head, her eyes bright. She cast a glance over her shoulder at a younger woman. “Did I not tell you that she would be beautiful?”
Aunt Margaret turned back to Isabel, surprising her by reaching out to touch a piece of hair that had escaped Isabel’s modest pins. “The exact same hue. So very blonde. I would have known you anywhere. You look exactly like your mother did at your age.”
She embraced Isabel again, and when she released her this time, tears brimmed in her eyes. She hastily wiped at them with the back of her hand. “I must say, I never thought I would see this day.”
Dawn at Emberwilde Page 3
