Page 4

T he grandfather clock in the hallway chimed the midnight hour. Bella crumpled another piece of paper and tossed it in the wastebasket, the frustration edging through her. Her fingers were stained with ink even more than they were earlier that day. She’d wasted several sheets of parchment in her attempts to translate the book. The candles had nearly burned down to a nub as she sat at the desk in the gloom trying to translate the language on the pages before her.

She so far had no luck.

Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned and then rose from the chair and walked toward the wall of windows on the west side of the study. The other walls of the room hosted floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She and her father were both book lovers and enjoyed getting lost within the pages of a good story.

At the window, she parted the gossamer curtain and peered out at the night. Since the study was on the second floor, the view was across the rooftops down toward the harbor. The harbor lights twinkled across the smooth water. There was not a soul in sight. It was quiet at this time of night as the shops were closed and the sailors who lived in port had returned to their homes. Others were snoozing on the decks of the ships under the stars.

How lovely to sleep under the stars in the cool night air.

As she stood at the window, thinking about the language in the book she was unable to translate, movement in the shadows caught her eye. At first she thought it was nothing more than a vagrant staggering through the streets near the port, but then she realized it was someone moving from shadow to shadow. No, not someone. Some thing .

How odd.

From her distance, she was unable to make out what or who it was moving through the streets. She pressed her face against the cool glass as if that would help her see whatever it was clearer. When she breathed out, she fogged the glass in front of her face. Stepping back, she used the sleeve of her gown to wipe it away.

When she peered back into the street, the shadow figure was gone.

Turning from the widow, she decided it was nothing more than her imagination. She walked back to the desk and closed the book. As she scooped it up, she blew out the candles and, with a yawn, headed to bed.

Her footsteps were light as she headed down the hallway to her room. Emmaline had left her nightgown at the foot of the bed. The blankets were turned back. A long candle flickered in its candleholder on the bedside table.

Bella placed the hefty tome on the bedside table by the candle. She wished Emmaline was there to help her out of her dress. Likely the girl was sleeping. She didn’t want to wake her, but she was too tired to wiggle out of her gown herself. With a yawn, she kicked off her shoes and slipped into the bed still fully dressed. She blew out the candle and then curled around the pillow. Before long, she was fast asleep.

The acrid smell woke her. The back of her throat burned. In her sleep haze, she was unable to decide what that was.

A pounding on her bedroom door jarred her. She sat up straight, her heart ramming hard in her chest as she realized smoke seeped under the door.

“Bella, wake up!”

It was her father’s frantic voice. Before she was able to respond, the door flew open.

“We have to go at once.” He waved for her to hurry out of the room.

She heard shouts somewhere in the house. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“The house is on fire. Hurry. We haven’t much time.”

He waved to her again, this time stepping into the room and holding out his hand. He held a handkerchief in his other hand pressed against his mouth and nose.

Bella sprang from the bed, thankful she was still dressed, and her shoes were nearby. She started for the door, then halted and turned back wondering what, if anything, she should grab. There simply wasn’t enough time to save all her things.

“Bella,” he urged, his voice near frantic.

Then she saw the mysterious book on the bedside table. On impulse, she snatched it, cradling it against her chest and dashed from the room after her father. The hallway quickly filled with smoke. She covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve as she made her way to the staircase. The foyer was full of smoke, but the front door was open making a square of light through the haze.

She headed for it and stumbled outside into the yard. Outside, Emmaline and the butler stood in the street looking up at the house. She stumbled along next to her father as they joined them, then turned to see the flames beginning to engulf their home. They were all out of the house safely and that was all that mattered. Still, it was difficult to stop the feeling of horrific loss from pounding through her.

It was a horrible thing to watch their lives burn to the ground. There wasn’t much anyone could do to stop it. The volunteer firefighters came, certainly, but buckets of water tossed onto the raging inferno was not enough to extinguish it.

When the fire was finally out, the constable arrived to question them all. Her father had retired for the evening. Gerald secured the house before turning in and Emmaline was abed by the time Bella left the library. She thought of the eerie shadowy figure she saw creeping through the port, but she said nothing to the constable about it.

“A terrible loss,” the man said. “You have my sympathies. If you can think of nothing more, I’ll write this up as an accident.”

“Nothing more,” her father said with a glance at her.

She shook her head. The constable and the firefighters left them as the house smoldered, gray smoke curling upward. There was nothing left but a burned-out shell with blackened walls. She stared at it with an overwhelming sense of sadness and despair. They got out alive, but at the cost of losing everything.

Bella stood in the yard next to her father clutching the strange book to her chest. If she’d had more time, she would have grabbed more things from her room. But she didn’t have more time and now everything was lost. Their vast library of books. Her mother’s china. Her father’s antiques he had collected from all over the world. All gone.

And here she stood still in her evening gown while her father wore his night clothes. He appeared to have haphazardly pulled on his overcoat. While he buttoned it, they buttons were off, making it look uneven. The collar stuck up and his hair was disheveled.

“What are we going to do now?” she asked, her voice rough and raw from the smoke.

“We’re going to Hawthorne Hall,” he announced, sounding sure and strong.

Bella snapped her head in his direction. “Hawthorne Hall?”

Hawthorne Hall was in the southern provincial town where her father owned a small, but modest manor house on the outskirts. They spent quite a bit of time there when she was younger. Her mother loved it there, but Bella not so much. They hadn’t been back since her mother died when she was a child.

“Gerald, you, Mrs. Graves and Emmaline will come with us, of course,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken.

“As you wish, my lord,” Gerald said with a nod.

“Pack what you can in the wagon, though I daresay there isn’t much left.”

There was a bitterness in his tone as he peered at what was left of their manor house. A bitterness she, too, felt.

“Emmaline was looking forward to her days off to spend with her mother and sister,” Bella said. “We should at least ask her if she wants to come.”

She wasn’t sure why she thought of that now. She craned her neck to look for her. She and Edith were huddled together on the edge of the lawn. The girl’s face was tear streaked. The old woman had an arm around her shoulders and spoke to her, as if trying to comfort her.

“Of course, dearest. I need to make some arrangements for us. I think we should spend the night in town, then we can take the train in the morning.”

She gaped at him. He was not thinking clearly. “Father,” she said, her tone soft and patient. “Hawthorne Hall has been closed up for years. Do you think this is a good idea? Besides, I don’t have any clothes and neither do you.”

“Pardon me, my lord,” Gerald said, moving a little closer. “If I may, your daughter makes a good point.”

Her father’s gaze bounced from hers to Gerald’s. “She does?”

“Yes, sir. Allow me and the others to go on ahead to make the house ready for you both. That way, we can make sure the larder is stocked for your arrival. In the meantime, perhaps it would be prudent for you and Miss Rinaldi to stay in town a day or two to purchase a new wardrobe?”

Relief settled through her at Gerald’s suggestion. Truthfully, it was the most she’d ever heard the old butler speak. She flashed him a grateful smile.

“And Emmaline,” she added, hastily. “I need her with me.”

Consideration flickered over her father’s face before he finally nodded.

“Ah, yes, quite right, Gerald. I’m not thinking clearly.” He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed. “Bella and I will do just that. We’ll meet you there in a day or so.”

“Very good, sir.”

“I’m going to ask Emmaline.”

Before her father answered, she bounded off toward the two women. They were both dressed in their nightclothes, a dressing gown hastily thrown on and slippers on their feet. They both looked exhausted and terrified but, thankfully, uninjured.

The moment the young girl saw her heading her direction, she whisked away the tears and straightened, as if she wasn’t allowed to grieve losing the manor.

“Are you two all right?” Bella asked, her gaze flickering between the two of them.

“We’re fine, miss. Thank ye for asking,” Edith said.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” Bella said, still clutching the book to her chest.

“What’s going to happen to us, miss?” Emmaline asked.

“We’re going to stay at the inn in the port for a few days. Then, after that, my father intends to move us to our country home in Driftbell, Hawthorne Hall.” She reached out a hand to her maid, placing it on her arm. “Emmaline, it would mean a lot to me if you came with me and then travelled on to Hawthorne Hall with us.”

Emmaline’s face paled as indecision flashed through her eyes.

“You don’t have to, of course, but I find I cannot dress without you.” She gave her a weak, hopeful smile. “Of course, you can always return to visit your mother and sister. Anytime you wish. It’s only a short train ride.”

“Do you mean that, miss?” Emmaline asked, her eyes shining and bright.

“Of course, I do. You’re such a help to me. I couldn’t bear being in the country without you.” She turned to Edith. “Or your fine lemon cakes, Mrs. Graves. That is, if you’ll agree to come with us as well. Gerald is going to go ahead to make the house ready for our arrival.”

“Oh, miss, ye do go on about those.” She chuckled. “If ye don’t mind me returning to visit the grandchildren…”

“You can visit them anytime you like.” She released Emmaline and reached a hand to the older woman. She took it, squeezed her hand and gave her a bright smile.

“All right, then. I accept,” Mrs. Graves said.

“And so do I,” Emmaline said.

Bella blew out a breath. “I’m so glad. The country would be dreadful without you both.”

“Bella, come along,” her father called.

Still clutching the book, she gave Mrs. Graves a wave. Emmaline fell in step besides her, and they joined her father. The three of them walked down the street toward the port, leaving behind the charred remains of their life.