Page 2 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty (The Legacy of Aquila Hall #1)

CHAPTER ONE

DOROTHEE

What would you do if your child began to see things that aren’t there, visions of ancient souls desperately crying out for peace?

Right. You send them off to a mysterious boarding school tucked away in the far corners of England. A place where children with unique psychological challenges find solace–a more humane term for what the place actually is–and a good education.

A place hidden from the realm of the living, to keep the family’s disgrace far, far away.

At the age of twelve, I wouldn’t have guessed that by the beginning of my seventeenth year on this planet, I’d end up in this place for telling my mother the truth about what I was experiencing each night.

What a shame I opened myself up to her, just for a moment, my naive self thought I could trust her, but once again, she proved me wrong.

A disgrace. That’s what I was. Not special, not a unique mastermind destined to rule the world like my cousin Bethany Whitlock. Even though that was debatable, considering perfect Bethany isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Since my mother’s sister had broken tradition by taking her husband’s name on their wedding day, I was the only heir to the De Loughrey name.

Obviously, my mother tried for more children after my diagnosis of psychological difficulties. She wanted another heir for this family. We were too important to end with… me.

All her hopes ended in ashes.

Every pregnancy after me was a miscarriage, as if the universe wanted me to be the last De Loughrey.

I’ve never understood why this mattered so much to her. She could have adopted a child if she wanted to replace me so badly, but it was never about having another child. It was about having a child with De Loughrey blood to continue our lineage, because their daughter wasn’t worthy of it. An heir to represent her and our name.

Old money makes people go mad. That’s what Grandma always told me. She always listened to me, to my dreams—she called them visions. She listened to the things I saw when I couldn’t sleep at night.

But Mother forbade me from visiting her after a maid reported what she overheard Grandma telling me, that the voices were a gift, and I needed to listen to them.

That was a month ago, and the same week my mother decided it was time to send me away. To keep me from influencing anyone else with my terrifying imagination .

The car approached the gateway of the old building, which looked like it hadn’t been renovated in a century, if ever. The stones were likely white at some point but had turned beige over the years, weathered by storms and sun. The eagle statues on the gateposts bore signs of their age, their wings shattered at the edges.

The emblem of Aquila Hall Academy was an eagle, and they made that very clear with the massive eagle statue perched above the doors, welcoming you to the school.

Welcoming. A big word.

The drive to the school had taken almost six hours, and for the last two, my driver navigated roads surrounded by endless trees.

We were in the middle of nowhere.

I stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut behind me. Cold air filled my lungs as I closed my eyes, savouring the moment. Sleep had always come in waves, and it was never restful.

“Dorothee, your clothes,” my mother reminded me with a dramatic sigh. I stepped away from the dirty car, careful not to brush against it and stain my beige skirt.

Cornelia De Loughrey was a tall, elegant woman, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun with not a strand out of place. She had the classic De Loughrey features—features some women went under the scalpel to achieve.

She was everything I wasn’t.

I wasn’t built like a model, like the daughter she had envisioned. She wanted a carbon copy of herself to spoil, but instead, she got me, a girl with hair so bright it was considered unnatural by most people who saw me. Younger me could never understand why. My hair was copper. I wish I could like it, but six-year-old Dorothee believed the colour of her hair was why her mother didn’t like talking to her.

“We should keep going. I need to be back in London tomorrow,” Mum said with a smile I wanted to believe was soft. It wasn’t. She was just happy to have found a solution for me.

“David, please place my daughter’s belongings in her assigned room.”

Our family’s driver nodded and opened the trunk while Mum grabbed my arm and led me to the doors.

“We have a meeting with the headmaster and your new psychologist at nine. We’re already four minutes late because of all that fog.”

The inside of the building was even more impressive. Everywhere I looked, there were golden accents, even on the worn stairs. The windows were my favourite part. I hated tight, enclosed spaces. Shadows loved to linger in rooms cut off from the world.

My mother’s heels clicked against the marble floors as she rushed us toward the headmaster’s office. I focused instead on the building’s architecture.

When I was thirteen and realised I had no one to turn to when the haunting began, I started noticing buildings—the way they were designed, their smallest details. It distracted me from the shadows whispering my name. It became a habit to admire architecture wherever I went.

My mother suddenly turned to me, straightened my white cardigan, and brushed my hair behind my ears as we stopped in front of an arched door. Arched doors seemed to be the standard here.

“You are going to showcase your best self. It’s important that you do so. You need this, darling.”

She was right. I needed to be away from them. Maybe here, I’d meet others who understood what I faced every day.

I nodded, and Mum sighed, “and please, for the love of God, open your mouth and speak, Dorothee.”

The change in her tone didn’t surprise me. She hated how shy I seemed to strangers. In our family, shyness wasn’t allowed. We were important people. Confident people. But what was the point of speaking when no one believed a word I said? I preferred to keep my thoughts to myself, safe where no one could accuse me of being a liar.

I’m not a liar. I’m just tired of being told I have a wild imagination.

The door opened before Mum could knock. She quickly straightened herself and extended her hand to a man waiting inside, smiling.

“Headmaster Shaw, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Cordelia De Loughrey, we spoke on the phone,” she said, turning to me with her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “And this is my daughter, Dorothee.”

The older man gave me a warm, genuine smile, nothing like my mother’s. He held out his hand, and I shook it hesitantly.

“Hello,” I managed, though my voice barely carried. From the way my mother’s smile tightened, I knew she wasn’t pleased with my lack of enthusiasm.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dorothee,” the headmaster said kindly. “I’m your Headmaster, Collin Shaw. Please, come in. We have fifteen minutes before your roommate comes to meet you and give you a brief tour of the campus. After that, you’ll have some time to settle into your dorm room or explore, it’s up to you.”

“I’ll have a roommate?” I asked, surprised.

My mother laughed, “of course, darling. We discussed this in the car.”

“No, we didn’t,” I replied quickly.

She gave my shoulders a light, almost dismissive pat before taking a seat. “All the fuzz in her head makes her forgetful,” she explained, directing her comment to the two men behind the desk. One of them was Headmaster Shaw, and the other, younger man was likely my new psychologist.

“That’s completely fine,” the younger one said with a reassuring smile. He sat straight and nodded in my direction. “I’m Anwir Chadwick, the school’s psychologist, and while you’re here, I’ll be yours as well.”

He handed me a piece of paper, which I noticed immediately had three time slots written on it:

– Monday, 9 a.m.

– Wednesday, 1 p.m.

– Friday, 7 p.m.

Below that was information about our sessions and his qualifications. I’d already read all of this on the school’s website during the week leading up to my arrival.

“For the first few weeks, we’ll meet three times a week—just until you’re settled in. After that, we can adjust the schedule as needed. Does that sound okay to you?”

No , I thought. I didn’t want to tell my story all over again just to be handed another prescription for pills that wouldn’t work. But as always, I knew I didn’t have a choice.

I forced a small smile, “yes.”

“See, darling?” Mum chimed in with a tight smile, patting my arm again. “Everyone here just wants to help you.”

“Right,” the headmaster said, his voice calm. “There’s no need to be anxious. Aquila Hall has helped many teenagers in your position manage their challenges.”

“Why would you call my mind haunting me a challenge?” I asked, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. “It’s not like I win anything by trying to fight it.”

“Dorothee!” My mother’s sharp tone scolded me.

But Headmaster Shaw shook his head gently, indicating that my question was fine.

“We prefer the word ‘challenge’ because it reflects a process of growth. You’re here to learn and work with the way your mind struggles to adjust to the world around you. To embrace who you are.”

That sounded awful.

Easy for him to say. He didn’t wake up night after night, screaming from dreams of people being burned alive. He hadn’t been stuck in my skin.

“I have to apologise for my daughter,” Mum said, her voice thin and practiced. “It’s been a tough few months for all of us with her condition.”

For all of us . Right. As though she or my father, busy living his best life in the United States, cared.

Doctor Chadwick stood and grabbed a set of keys from the desk. He was tall and well-dressed—someone who probably rotated through the same five suits every week in the exact same order. Everything about him seemed overly precise. The way he pushed his hair back when even a single strand fell out of place, his perfectly trimmed nails, his polished shoes. He was a perfectionist.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs De Loughrey,” he said, nodding to my mother before turning to me with a warm smile, “and you, Dorothee. I hope you have a good first day tomorrow, and don’t forget our session at noon.”

With that, Doctor Chadwick left. A moment later, Headmaster Shaw handed me another piece of paper.

“Your roommate’s name is Mairead Alderidge. She’s currently in her history class, which is on the floor above us. Classroom seven. Professor Kane is expecting you, and he’ll send Mairead to meet you. After that, you’re free to explore the campus or settle into your room, again, it’s your choice.”

I nodded as I looked over the schedule he’d just given me. To my surprise, I didn’t have as many classes as I expected. My mother had made this sound like an elite school with a relentless workload.

“Your books are already in your dorm room. Curfew is at nine,” the headmaster added.

I nodded again but noticed my mother’s frustrated sigh when I looked up.

And please, for the love of God, open your mouth and speak, Dorothee.

As you wish, Mother.

“Thank you!” I blurted, my voice overly loud and enthusiastic. I cringed at myself as I quickly left the room.

Rain had started falling while we were inside, streaking the windows with a blurry coat.

I couldn’t explain it, but the more I walked through this place, the more it felt… familiar. Like I’d been here once before.