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H er father secured them two rooms at the local inn in the port. The sleepy-eyed innkeeper, though, looked them over with a curious eye. She in her formal dinner gown, her father in his nightclothes with his dressing gown hastily thrown over and no hat, and her maid in her nightdress and slippers. The girl remained behind Bella with her eyes downcast.

It was a relief to be in their room, though it was small. One narrow bed on either side of the room and a small wardrobe between the two. At least the view from the one window was of the port. Moonlight glistened on the water beyond the ships.

Emmaline unbuttoned the back of her gown and hung it in the wardrobe while she kicked off her slippers and slid under the blankets. Emmaline climbed into her own bed across from her, but Bella sensed apprehension rolling off her.

“Everything will be all right,” Bella said, trying to reassure her. “You’ll see.”

“It’s just that…I’ve never been out of the city, miss. In the morning, I’d like to send a message to my mum and sister.”

“I’ll help you with that.”

Fatigue pounded through her as she laid on the soft mattress, trying not to fret over the loss of their home and things. The book she brought with her rested next to the unlit candle on the low table between the two beds.

“What is Hawthorne Hall like?” Emmaline asked.

Bella yawned. “I’ve not been back for many years, but I remember it has a quiet, serene place where my father and mother liked to spend summers. There’s a pond behind the manor house with a short pier. My mother loved roses and had quite a large rose garden that smelled sweet with all the colorful blooms.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Her voice was thick with sleep. “I look forward to seeing it.”

She yawned, curled around the pillow, and moments later was fast asleep. But sleep eluded Bella as she laid on the bed, peering up at the widow with the gossamer curtain filtering out the moonlight. She thought of the strange shadow she saw in the port before she retired to her room.

She wasn’t sure what made her do it—some deep impulse she was unable to deny—but she shoved off the blanket and stood between the beds, peering through the curtain. Several ships bobbed in silence in the harbor, their sails down and secured. She parted the curtain to peer into the night, her senses on high alert. As she did, she thought she saw the shadowy figure moving through the port. The same one she saw earlier.

A strangeness pierced her as she watched the figure move from shadow to shadow as though floating through space. She resisted the urge to throw on Emmaline’s dressing gown and rush out to the port to investigate. As the thought flickered through her mind, a dark voice whispered through the room.

The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention. Her head snapped over to Emmaline, but the girl was still sleeping. She hadn’t moved and her face was in repose.

She let the curtain fall back into place and backed up against the bed. When her legs hit it, she sank into it, pulling the blankets to her chin to ward off a sudden chill that flickered through her. She needed to sleep and put the strange shadow figure out of her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and calmed her mind, regulated her breath, and finally slept.

Bright morning pierced her closed eyelids. When Bella awoke, she was momentarily disoriented as she tried to recall where she was. Then it all came crashing back to her. The fire.

Across from her, Emmaline’s bed was empty and perfectly made into neat, straight lines. She sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair as she peered around the room. Where could Emmaline be in her nightclothes?

She pushed aside her blankets and stood, remembering the strangeness of the night before. She peered through the slit in the curtain at the port. There was the normal activity in the harbor.

A tall ship unfurled its sails, its bells clanging, in preparation for departing. Shouting orders from the ship captain was nothing more than a muffled voice as the men readied the ship. Seagulls squawked as they swooped through the air searching for a morsel of food.

Dockworkers were loading and unloading crates, barrels, and sacks using their rope pulleys and wooden ramps. Horse-drawn carts rambled down the cobblestone street, wheels clattering and drivers shouting. Fisherman and traders called out their prices of their wares as they tried to make their wages for the day. Sailors swaggered off their ships to gather in the local tavern for their morning breakfast.

As she stood there, watching and listening through the pane of glass, a pang of sorrow clutched her. She realized, with some desolation, she would miss the bustling port, as well as the wealthy nobles whose libraries she frequented. The book sitting on the table was the only one she’d translate now. Her finger ran down the aged leather-bound cover and over the thorny vines and brambles. Perhaps, at Hawthorne Hall, she would find the key to deciphering the odd language.

As she pondered this all, the door scraped open. Emmaline entered, her eyes bright and cheery and her cheeks ruddy. She carried an armload of packages and kicked the door closed with her heel. She was fully dressed in a cream high-waisted gown. The sleeves ended at her elbow and were trimmed in lace.

“Oh, my lady, good morrow!”

She hurried to her bed and dumped the packages. Curiosity sparked through Bella as she moved to stand next to her.

“What’s all this?”

“I woke before dawn and, well, I hope you don’t mind, but I slipped out to visit my mum and sister,” she said. “I told Mum we were headed for the country. And then I picked up some of my gowns since I lost everything else in the fire.” She turned to the bed and picked up one of the brown paper packages tied with string, extending it to her. “It’s not much, but since you only have your dinner gown, I thought this might be more appropriate until you can purchase a new wardrobe. You’re the same size as my older sister.”

Bella was touched she thought of her. She slipped the package from her hands and pulled the string to untie it. Unwrapping it, she peered down at a pale blue gown embroidered with tiny white roses. It was simple yet lovely.

“Emmaline, this is very kind of you. Thank you.”

“I’ll help you dress. Your father is waiting for you in the tavern.”

After dressing and brushing the snarls out of her hair, Emmaline twisted her hair into a low chignon and pinned it. Then she headed down to the tavern to meet her father. Sunlight filtered through the grimy windows, casting golden shafts along the scarred wooden floor. Most of the chairs were turned upside down on top of the tables, save for a few that were occupied by early morning risers—her father included. The barkeep behind the counter rinsed mugs in a wooden basin, the soft clink of glass on wood the only sound in the hush. A tired barmaid wiped down the length of the counter, her movements slow, mechanical. The faint scent of stale ale and wood smoke lingered in the air.

Her father sat at one of the old wooden tables near the fireplace, where smoldering embers popped quietly and glowed with the last breath of the night before. He wore a threadbare shirt that hung too loose on his frame and trousers a shade too short—borrowed clothes, all of them, ill-fitting and smelling faintly of smoke and someone else’s home. He held the morning newspaper and peered at it intently. When he heard her enter, he lifted his gaze, smiled, and folded the paper.

“Ah, there you are, my dear. Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Well enough, I suppose.”

She didn’t want to mention the apparition she saw skulking through the docks or the eerie whispering sound she heard coming from the book. She took the seat opposite him, her chair scraping along the wood floor as she pulled it out to sit. He eyed her with a curious look.

“Where did you get that dress?”

She placed her folded hands in her lap. “Emmaline brought it to me. Where do you get those clothes?”

He flushed, as he cut a wayward glance to the barkeep. “The innkeeper took pity on me. Seems news of the fire has already spread.” He cleared his throat and leaned his elbow on the table. “I have business in the port, right after I visit the tailor and pick up some new clothes for myself. You and Emmaline should go on to the dressmaker. Tell them to put everything on my account. And get something for the young lady, too. I insist.”

“That’s very kind of you, Father. When will we be making our way to Hawthorne Hall?”

“I reckon we’ll take the evening train.” He reached for his pocket watch and realized it wasn’t there. Frustration lined his face. “I best be off. We’ll meet back at the inn this afternoon.”

“All right,” she said.

He rose and came to her side of the table. He kissed the top of her head. Then he was off, disappearing through the tavern door leaving her alone with the barmaid and the barkeep who both ignored her presence.

She pushed from the table. It had been a while since she had new gowns. She decided to collect Emmaline and then head to the shop for a day of shopping.