The Secret of Dinswood

by Ellen Alexander

  Scripture quotations marked “NIV” are taken from the Holy Bible,

  New International Version ®,

  Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society.

  Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  Edited by Amanda Lewis

  The Secret of Dinswood

  Copyright © 2018 Ellen Alexander

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by BHC Press

  under the H2O imprint

  Library of Congress Control Number:

  2018936814

  ISBN Numbers:

  Softcover: 978-1-947727-55-7

  Ebook: 978-1-948540-36-0

  Visit the publisher at: www.bhcpress.com

  The Missing Mortals

  This book is dedicated with love to

  my husband, Jim,

  and my three sons,

  Michael, Noah and Matthew

  1710 AD

  MEDITERRANEAN SEA

  Darius Bartholomew Dinswood stood on the deck of his ship, the Raven, and looked out to where the sea met the sky. The crimson sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, bathing his face in its amber glow. As he watched it sink lower and lower, he remembered back to the day when he had first come aboard the ship in the hopes of getting a job.

  His parents had died when he was twelve, and as he’d had no close relatives, he had been placed in an orphanage. Life in the orphanage had been a nightmare, and he had run away at the first opportunity. The owner of the Raven at the time, Bartholomew Hart, must have seen something in the dirty, malnourished boy that approached him that day, because he had given him a job as his cabin boy. Hart had liked the fact that Darius’s middle name was Bartholomew and had called him Bartie from the very first. The crew had used the name as well, and thus it was that no one knew Darius’s full name except the captain.

  Hart had been a rough taskmaster in the beginning, but even so, Darius had flourished. He proved himself to be an apt pupil and quickly learned everything there was to know about sailing. Noticing how smart the boy was and how eager he was to learn, Hart took it upon himself to teach Darius how to handle a sword. With his strength and natural quickness, Darius showed himself to be quite skillful in that as well. Hart began to feel pride in Darius’s accomplishments, and as the years passed, began to look upon him as a son.

  When Darius had first come aboard the ship, Hart had been the owner of a trading company, but he quickly tired of having his goods stolen from him on the open seas by pirates. It was after one particularly nasty battle with pirates that Hart decided to exact a little revenge by becoming a privateer. He requested and was given a Letter of Marque from Queen Elizabeth. The letter gave him written authority to seize goods from ships of other countries with the understanding that whatever was taken belonged to England. As was often the case with privateers, after seeing how profitable piracy was, Hart decided to go into the business for himself. Hart began attacking ships regardless of their country of origin—making himself a true pirate and earning for himself the nickname Bart the Blackheart. He was very successful, and after ten years of terrorizing the seas, he had amassed a great fortune.

  During this time, Darius had grown into a fine young man, standing just over six feet, two inches tall, with a lean, well-muscled body, bronzed by his years in the sun. His skill with a sword and his prowess in battle were second only to the captain. Darius was then twenty-two, and as most young men, considered himself and the crew of the Raven to be invincible. Then one day in an attack against a Spanish vessel, Hart was mortally wounded. Thinking that the captain was already dead, Darius took over command and led the crew to victory. When the battle was over, Darius hurried over to the man he’d come to view as a father and knelt beside him. He was surprised to see that Hart was still alive. Upon seeing Darius, Hart began to struggle to speak. Darius leaned close in an effort to hear what he was trying to say. The captain surprised him again when he reached up and grabbed Darius by the neck, pulling him even closer so that Darius’s ear was only an inch away from his mouth. In a whisper, Hart told him where he had hidden his fortune. Then summoning the last of his strength, he shouted to the crew that “Bartie” was to be the new captain and owner of the Raven.

  As soon as he’d spoken the words, a satisfied look had settled upon his weathered features, and Bartholomew Hart had breathed his last breath. In honor of their fallen captain, and because the crew knew him as Bartie, they passed the name Bart the Blackheart on to Darius. Thus it was that Bart the Blackheart continued to raid ships for ten more years.

  Although he shared the name, Darius did not have the black heart of his former captain. Men were killed only if a ship chose to resist, and then, only in the course of battle. Fortunately, by the time Darius inherited the Raven, its reputation had grown to the point that most ships surrendered when they saw it approaching, and a battle was unnecessary. Darius purposely avoided ships that might be carrying women or children, and in the event that women or children were encountered, Darius made every effort to ensure that they remained unharmed. He had no way of knowing that there would be no distinction in the history books between the true Blackheart and the Blackheart that was Darius Dinswood.

  As the sun dipped beneath the surface of the water, Darius sighed wearily. He was tired of the pirate life. With the fortune left to him by Bartholomew Hart and the treasure he had accumulated for himself over the past ten years, he had enough wealth to last several lifetimes. He didn’t want to end up like his predecessor and die alone with no wife or children to mourn his passing. Now, at the age of thirty-two, he felt it was time he married and settled down.

  Darius knew from experience that with his brown eyes, long dark hair, and chiseled features, women considered him handsome. With a confidence born of arrogance rather than conceit, he was certain that he could find a woman that would marry him; but he didn’t want just any woman. He wanted a respectable, genteel woman—a real lady. He realized that the only way to attract such a woman was to become respectable himself. He would start by cutting his hair and purchasing some new clothes. Then he would find a lady, preferably a titled lady, and court her. He might even invent a title for himself; Lord Darius Dinswood had a nice ring to it. Fortunately, no one knew his real name, so he could use whatever name he wished, and he had enough money to at least give the appearance of being someone of noble birth. Once married, he would take his bride and sail to a new country. There he would build her a magnificent mansion, or better yet, he thought with a smile, a castle.

  Emma Higsby sat forward in her seat, eagerly awaiting her first glimpse of Dinswood Academy, the most prestigious boarding school in the country. Generally, only the very rich attended Dinswood, but recently, the board of directors of the school, in a fit of conscience, had decided to award full scholarships to the five seventh graders who scored the highest on the school’s entrance exam. Emma had studied for months prior to the exam and had miraculously earned the highest score among those who took it. She couldn’t believe her good fortune.

  Dinswood Academy was famous for its high academic standards. Not only was it the best school academically, but it was situated in the heart of the mountains, where the scenery was said to be breathtaking. In the win
ter months, the school was inaccessible to the outside. The school’s virtual isolation, although unattractive to some, was the very thing that appealed to Emma the most.

  Emma had lost her mother to cancer at the tender age of five. Her father had remarried a year later, and unfortunately, Emma and her stepmother had never really connected. Vera wasn’t mean to Emma in the physical sense, but her complete and total indifference over the years had left an emptiness in Emma’s heart and a growing desire to get away from a home where she no longer felt wanted. The arrival of her twin half-brothers four years ago had only compounded the problem. Her father doted on Vera and the boys, and if he noticed anything lacking in Emma’s upbringing, he never commented on it or made any attempts to correct it. It had been her need to get away that had driven her to work so hard to get into Dinswood.

  She had received notification that she had been accepted to Dinswood a month ago. So eager was she to embark on her new adventure that Emma would have packed her bags that very second, but unfortunately, the new term didn’t begin until September first. The time until the start of the first term had seemed to drag by at a snail’s pace. As far as Emma was concerned, that month of August would go on record as being the longest of her life.

  Her family had expressed neither joy at her acceptance to Dinswood nor any great sadness that she would be away from home for the next nine months. The news had been greeted with the same indifference that Emma had grown accustomed to. Her father had, however, helped make the travel arrangements that would convey Emma to her new home.

  Emma had just been treated to her first airplane ride. She didn’t know how her father had been able to afford the fare, but she was too excited about going to Dinswood to care. The bus in which she was riding had been sent to the airport by the school to pick up the arriving students. Emma was glad that she had gotten a seat by herself so that she could absorb the scenery in solitude. There would be time enough to meet people when she was settled in at the school.

  Emma had read the brochure the school had sent with her acceptance letter. Dinswood Academy had, in years past, been a castle complete with towers and a parapet with battlements for defense in times of siege. Of course, the castle had been renovated extensively over the last half century. At his death, Lord Percival Dinswood had donated the buildings and grounds to the state to be used as a school. Lord Dinswood had left specific instructions on the renovations that were to be carried out in order to create the finest school in the country. There were parts of the castle, however, that he had requested remain unchanged. Looking at the pictures in the brochure, Emma was sure that Lord Percival Dinswood would have been pleased with the result.

  The bus had been climbing in a twisting fashion for the last hour and a half; Emma thought they must be getting close now. Just then the bus rounded a bend, and the castle came into view. The pictures in the brochure hadn’t done it justice. Emma felt as if she just stepped backward in time to the seventeenth century. A magnificent three-story, gray stone structure complete with towers stood in the center of beautifully landscaped and immaculate grounds. Well-tended shrubs lined the drive leading up to the castle, and directly across from the main entrance was a huge, circular stone fountain. Water shot upward from the middle of the fountain and sparkled in a rainbow of colors as the afternoon sun shone through the mist. A multitude of flowers in every color had been planted all around the base of the fountain and stone benches encircled it. Large oak and maple trees dotted the front lawn, and many of them had benches or swings underneath them.

  Although she couldn’t see them from her vantage point, Emma knew that two wings had been added to the main structure that served as dormitories. The east wing, Bingham Hall, was the boys’ dormitory, and the west wing, Brimley Hall, was the girls’. The main part of the building contained a large, two-story library, a lounge with a fireplace, a ballroom where music, band, and PE classes were held, the dining hall, and the kitchen. The classrooms and staff residences were located on the second and third floors of the main building. The entire structure was surrounded by Fangorley Forest, and to the west, a stream flowed down the side of the mountain. At this time of year, the stream would be relatively small, but in the spring, as the winter snows melted, it would swell with swiftly moving, crystal clear and extremely cold water. All of these things Emma had read in the brochure, but she couldn’t wait to explore and see them all first hand.

  The next thing Emma knew, the bus was coming to a stop in front of the school, and she could see stone steps leading up to a terrace and massive oak doors. The bus driver instructed Emma and her fellow classmates to disembark and informed them that their baggage would be deposited in their dorm rooms for them. Today was a day of orientation for all of the first-year students; the rest of the student body would be arriving tomorrow.

  Dinswood Academy taught students from the seventh to the twelfth grades. The board of directors felt that children needed to be at least twelve-years-old before they would be mature enough to live away from home for an extended period of time. Emma would be turning thirteen November twelfth and knew that she would be among the oldest in her class. The first-year students were herded through the oak doors and into a large central hall where they were met by the dean of the school. Dean Harwood was a rather handsome man of medium height with dark hair that was beginning to gray at the temples. He was not at all what Emma had expected the dean to look like. She had pictured a short man with a stocky build and thinning brown hair. Dean Harwood stood on the stairs leading up to the second floor in order to be seen by all the students. The commotion in the great hall subsided as Dean Harwood cleared his throat, a signal that he was preparing to speak, and the students had better pay attention.

  “Welcome to Dinswood Academy,” Dean Harwood began. “You are very fortunate to be attending the most prestigious school in the country. I need not remind you that Dinswood sets high academic standards. You will find that our curriculum is challenging, and our instructors are among the finest in the world. You will be meeting them shortly in the dining hall. Of course, with a school of this caliber, certain rules and regulations are a necessity. You will be informed of the rules and regulations by your dorm advisors later today. Please be aware that failure to comply with these rules may result in your expulsion from Dinswood. I encourage you to work hard and take advantage of all Dinswood has to offer. At this time, our history teacher, Miss Priscilla Grimstock, will take you on a tour of the facility and acquaint you with meal times and dorm curfews. If I can assist you in any way, please make an appointment with my secretary. Again, welcome, and now I leave you in the capable hands of Miss Grimstock.”

  Miss Grimstock was a tall, thin, hawkish-looking woman that rather reminded Emma of a witch—all that was lacking was the pointy hat and a broomstick. She wore a navy blue suit and low heels and had her reddish-brown hair drawn back from her face and tightly coiled in a bun.

  “Students, if you will please follow me.” Miss Grimstock gave a grand sweep of her hand and set off down a side hall, walking in a dignified, if not somewhat stiff manner. Her tone was just as dignified as she pointed out the first room on the right down the east hall. “This is the dining hall. Breakfast is served buffet style from seven to seven forty-five in the morning. Lunch is served at noon and supper is served at six o’clock in the evening. The kitchen is next to the dining room, but it is off limits to anyone other than the kitchen staff. Classes begin promptly at 8:00 a.m. Please be on time to all of your classes, as your tardiness will result in a detention.” This last statement was met by muffled moans from the students. Ignoring the moans, Miss Grimstock continued on, “Classes resume at one o’clock and will conclude at three each afternoon, except, of course, on Saturday and Sunday. If you will follow me please…” and off she went again. The dean’s and administrative offices were on the north side of the east hall. These were pointed out to the students in a perfunctory fashion, and the group was informed that usually the only students that saw the insi
de of Dean Harwood’s office were those who had committed serious infractions.

  The tour continued on in this manner for another thirty minutes. The ballroom was the last room off the east hall. Emma had never seen a room so large. It had a beautiful marble floor and huge windows all along the north side. French doors led onto the terrace, and Emma found herself imagining what it would have been like to attend a ball in this room a century ago. She imagined waltzing around the room in the arms of a handsome young man and then being swept out onto the terrace for a bit of stargazing.

  Emma was pulled from her reverie by the groans of those around her and wondered what she had missed. She didn’t have to wait long to find out as Miss Grimstock continued on as if there had been no interruption, “We here at Dinswood feel that ballroom dancing is the only civilized form of dancing, and so, of course, you will be instructed in the waltz, et cetera. This is the only time the boys and girls will have physical education together in order that you might have a proper partner.” Then with another wide sweep of her hand, she continued down to the end of the east hall, where a set of swinging double doors led into the boys’ dormitory. They didn’t enter the boys’ dormitory but were told that both boys and girls were supposed to be in their rooms by nine o’clock, and that lights out would be at ten o’clock. “You are not to leave your rooms after ten o’clock. If you are caught out and about after ten, it could result in your expulsion from Dinswood,” Miss Grimstock informed them in a haughty tone. “Many of Lord Dinswood’s valuables remain in house and so we have in our employ several security guards. The grounds and building are regularly patrolled, so if you choose to ignore this rule, you will be caught. In addition, at no time may the boys enter the girls’ dorm or vice versa. Are there any questions?” As there were no questions, Miss Grimstock led them in the direction of the main entrance and then down the west hall.