Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  “Margaret Lounsbury, what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

  Maggie gasped and gripped the swaying elm branch. “Nate! You nearly made me fall!”

  Nate placed his hands on his hips and glared up at her. “Come down out of that tree before you kill yourself!”

  The rough bark scraped her hands and ankles as she inched forward, but she ignored the pain. “I can’t come down. There’s a perfect little wren’s nest up here, and I must have a look.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! You’re risking your life to inspect a bird’s nest?”

  Maggie wrinkled her nose at him. “I want to see if there are any eggs, and I can’t very well do that from the ground.” Just because Nate was sixteen, and heir to Morningside Manor, he thought that gave him the right to lord his age and position over her. Well, she might be three years younger, but she was just as clever and strong as he was, and she would prove it.

  He shook his head, his dark-brown eyes flashing. “You know very well you’re being ridiculous!”

  “I am not! How can I paint the eggs if I don’t know what they look like?”

  “No bird’s eggs are worth falling out of a tree and breaking your neck.”

  “I won’t fall if you’ll stop shouting at me.” She crept forward, straining toward the nest.

  He huffed and paced across the grass, then looked up at her again. “Your father may be our landscape architect, but that doesn’t mean you can wander all over the estate and climb trees like a monkey.”

  Her face flushed. She did not climb like a monkey! How dare he say that!

  “If your father saw what you’re doing, you know you’d be in trouble. And if my father or stepmother found out, heaven only knows what kind of explosion would follow.”

  “My father has gone to the village, and your father is too preoccupied with his inventions to venture outside.”

  “Thank heaven for small favors, but what about my stepmother?”

  “You know she rarely walks past the edge of the rose garden, so there’s little chance of anyone finding out.” Maggie peered down at him through the leaves, and a touch of worry pricked her conscience. “Unless you tell them. You won’t, will you?”

  His brow creased as he looked up at her, but his expression softened. “Not as long as you stop this foolishness and climb down.”

  She didn’t like to upset Nate. In spite of his sometimes lofty attitude, he was a good friend. But she wouldn’t turn around now, not when she was so close. “I can’t. Not until I see what’s in the nest.”

  He straightened his shoulders and looked up at her. “All right, then I am coming up after you.”

  She gasped. “Don’t even think about it! You’d break the branch for sure.”

  He started toward the trunk.

  “Nate, please! I’m almost there. I’ll just take one look and then be on the ground before you know it. I promise.”

  He stopped and muttered something under his breath, then placed his hands on his hips again and watched her creep the last few inches.

  She peeked into the nest, and a smile broke across her face. “I knew it!”

  Four pale blue eggs with faint brown speckles lay in the center of a neatly woven circle fashioned from tiny twigs, dried grass, and seedling fluff. She studied the scene, hoping she could capture the fragile beauty when she sketched it in her nature journal and then used her watercolors to bring it to life.

  Were the eggs smooth or did the speckles give them texture? She reached out and ran her finger over the closest eggs.

  Suddenly, a squawking bird dived toward her, flapping its wings and circling her head.

  She screamed and flung out both hands, trying to bat the bird away.

  “Maggie!” Nate dashed closer, holding out his arms.

  She scrambled back along the branch, her heart pounding wildly. The bird swooped in again. She ducked to the left and lost her balance. A scream caught in her throat as she plunged toward the ground.

  Nate broke her fall, and they tumbled into the grass.

  All the air whooshed out of her lungs, and she lay on top of him, stunned and breathless. She blinked a few times, pushed herself up on shaky arms, and brushed her dark hair out of her face. “Sorry, Nate.”

  She scanned his still form, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. His eyes were closed, and his lips barely parted. Why didn’t he sit up and scold her for landing on top of him? A cold wave swept over her.

  “Nate?” Her voice sounded like a hoarse whisper, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  She gasped and scrambled off. Had she killed him?

  Kneeling beside him, she laid her head on his solid chest and listened to his heart. The strong, steady beat eased her fear, but that relief lasted only a moment. She might not have murdered her friend, but she had certainly knocked him unconscious.

  She bit her lip and gently brushed his dark-brown hair off his forehead. No cuts or lumps were visible on his face, but what if his injuries were the more serious kind that you couldn’t see?

  “Oh, Nate, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to flatten you—really I didn’t. Please wake up. I’ll listen to you next time. I promise I will! No, there won’t be a next time. I give you my solemn word that I’ll never climb another tree as long as I live!”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up. Then his eyes popped open, and he smiled up at her. “Promise?”

  She gasped, then leaned back and slapped his shoulder. “Oh, you’re terrible! How could you tease me like that?”

  He sat up, grinning, and brushed the grass off his shirt. “Well, you nearly did knock me out. I had no idea you were so heavy.”

  She sat back on her heels and scowled at him.

  “Oh, come on, Maggie. Don’t be angry. I was just having a little fun.”

  “I thought I killed you.” She crossed her arms and looked away.

  He laughed. “Not this time.”

  She continued to glare, but she couldn’t stay angry, not when he looked at her with that teasing twinkle in his eyes. “You must promise never to do that again.”

  “All right.” He sent her a cheeky grin and rose to his feet. “Come on. We’d better get back. Your parents will be looking for you.”

  “I haven’t been gone that long.” She glanced up at the sun through the tree’s limbs, trying to guess the time.

  “It’s almost four. We’ll miss tea if we don’t hurry. And you know your mother wouldn’t like that.” He held out his hand.

  She grabbed hold and rose, a smile stealing across her lips again. Nate could be bossy, and he took more of her father’s time and attention than she cared to give, but she enjoyed his company.

  He only came home to Morningside for Christmas and summer holidays. The rest of the year he attended school in London. When he was home, he spent more time with her family than his own. Her father had taken him under his wing as he oversaw the work of transforming the rocky and heather-covered moors around the estate into beautiful woodlands, expansive lakes, and flower-filled gardens.

  She would miss Nate terribly when he went back to school again.

  They started down the path leading through the woods around Tumbledon Lake. It was only a fifteen-minute walk back to her house, which was just a short distance from the manor house where Nate lived with his father, stepmother, and younger sister, Clara.

  She and Nate had been walking only a few minutes when she heard voices off to the left. Apparently Nate heard them too because he held out his hand and stopped her. Maggie peered through the bushes, but she didn’t see anyone. She exchanged a quick glance with Nate, and he returned a quizzical look.

  Was it Mr. McDougall, the head gamekeeper, or one of his assistants? They often made their rounds through this part of the estate, checking on red deer, pheasants, and quail that were raised for hunting.

  “I don’t understand. You promised you’d speak to her.” The female voice was hushed but insistent.

  Maggie tilted her he
ad to listen. The woman sounded like Nate’s stepmother, Helen Harcourt, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Nate frowned toward the trees, his gaze intense.

  “I tried, but she’s been ill,” a man replied, his tone matching Mrs. Harcourt’s.

  Maggie didn’t recognize the man’s voice. She lifted her eyebrows and sent Nate a questioning glance, but he waved her off and leaned forward to better hear the voices.

  “So you’ll speak to her when she recovers?” Impatience sharpened the woman’s words.

  “Yes, of course. As soon as I feel she’s able to handle the news.”

  Why were these two meeting here in the woods so far from the manor house? What was the news the man was hesitant to tell?

  Nate leaned toward Maggie. “Let’s go before they see us,” he whispered, then started down the path.

  Maggie grabbed his arm. “Don’t you want to hear what they’re saying?”

  “No.” He pulled away.

  “But, Nate—”

  He looked back, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a grim line. “Your parents will be worried.” He shot a quick glance toward the voices in the woods. “We need to go.”

  Maggie bit her lip. Something wasn’t right. Why was Nate so intent on leaving rather than listening to the rest of the conversation? She followed him a few steps down the path, then slowed and looked over her shoulder. A flash of purple showed between the trees and then Mrs. Harcourt’s profile came into view.

  A cool, stony look covered her face like a mask.

  A chill shot down Maggie’s back. Whoever Mrs. Harcourt was talking to, Maggie wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.

  Lilly swirled her spoon through her tea, rested her chin in her hand, and stared across the servants’ hall table. Thoughts of Rob and his family filled her mind. How was his father’s recovery coming along, and how was his mother bearing up under these new burdens?

  Rob was still reluctant to accept the money she’d offered, but she was working on a plan to help his family in practical ways. If she mentioned her idea to a few friends, she was certain they would all want to contribute. It was time for them to pull together and take care of one another.

  But what if the workers at Clifton continued to press the management for changes? What if their demands were ignored and they called for a strike? Almost every family in the village would feel the pain if they did. She grimaced and pushed those thoughts away. Today had enough trouble. No need to borrow from tomorrow.

  “Lilly?”

  She blinked and pulled her gaze back into focus. “Yes?”

  Sophie sent her a curious look across the table. “You seem to be miles away. Did you hear my question?”

  “No, sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you had plans for your half day?”

  Lilly shook her head. “Not yet.” Most of the staff were released from their duties after church on Sunday. She usually spent time with her father and brother in the village and then shared a meal with Rob and his family before he walked her back to Morningside by eight o’clock. She sighed as those happy memories faded. What would the future hold for her and Rob now? How long would they have to postpone their wedding plans?

  Andrew walked into the room, carrying a small stack of envelopes. “The morning post, sir.” He handed them to Mr. Jackson.

  The butler sorted through the pile and looked up. “Lilly.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “This one is for you.” Mr. Jackson passed her an envelope.

  Her heartbeat quickened. She rose, clutched the envelope to her chest, and hurried outside. Rob was the only one who wrote to her, and she wanted to read his letter in private.

  She sat down on a crate outside in the back courtyard and tore open the letter.

  My dear Lilly, how I miss you! You are never far away from my thoughts and always in my heart. How I wish we could sit by the fire this evening, talk about our day, and enjoy the comfort of life together. I hope and pray that day will come soon. But for now I will have to be content to write to you, tell you my news, and ask you to keep me in your prayers.

  The doctor told us today that Father’s hand is healing, but it won’t be much use to him. It’s good it is his left hand. Still, he won’t be able to return to work at Clifton, and I’m not sure if he’ll be able to find another job. Of course we are all discouraged by this news, but Mother and the girls are putting on cheerful faces, though I know their hearts are aching too.

  I’ve decided to take on extra hours at Clifton. I spoke to Charlie Gilmore, and he said he needs someone to help with cleaning the warehouses on Sundays.

  Lilly stared at the letter, her heart sinking. How could Rob work seven days a week? He’d wear himself out and end up getting sick. What would his family do then?

  Knowing I won’t be able to see you on Sunday afternoon is weighing very heavy on me. Spending time with you is always the best part of my week, but it’s a sacrifice I have to make to take care of the family. I hope you’ll understand and forgive me.

  Your letters give me hope and lift my spirits, so please write to me when you can. Until then, know that I am thinking of you and praying for you.

  With all my love,

  Rob

  Tears flooded her eyes as she lowered the letter to her lap. Oh, Rob, what are we going to do?

  Nate slowly climbed the stairs. Only three days had passed since his father’s death, but so much had happened, and the weight of his responsibilities made him feel like he carried a heavy pack on his shoulders.

  The unsettling conversation with his stepmother replayed in his mind, stirring his frustration. Helen had taken control of Morningside in February when his father had grown too ill to carry out his duties. She was proud of the way she’d handled every decision concerning the house and staff, and she didn’t relish giving up control now, especially to Nate.

  He was too young, she insisted, too inexperienced.

  Nate disagreed as tactfully as he could. He might be only twenty-four, but he had been through naval training and a war, and he was confident he could manage the estate and learn what was needed to carry out his responsibilities at Clifton Engineering as well.

  But Helen was not ready to concede. When the conversation ended, they’d faced each other in heated silence for several seconds, both aware they’d reached a stalemate.

  He blew out a deep breath and shook his head. If they could just get past the funeral, perhaps Helen’s emotions would settle and she would be able to accept the changes his father’s death had forced on them all. He was the heir. The estate had passed to him, and she needed to accept that fact. He was committed to caring for her and Clara, but he would not relinquish leadership of the estate to her.

  As he walked down the hallway to his room, another unsettling thought rose in his mind. Yesterday Mr. Geoffrey Rowlett, his father’s business partner at Clifton, had come to Morningside to offer his condolences and assure Nate there was no need for him to worry about matters at Clifton Engineering.

  A few minutes into that visit Nate realized the conversation was nothing more than a veiled attempt to keep him away from Clifton. Why didn’t he want Nate involved? Did he share Helen’s opinion that Nate was too young and inexperienced to take an active role as a partner and a member of the board? Or was there some other reason?

  The sound of a woman crying stopped him halfway down the hall. He cocked his head and listened, then followed the sound. Muffled sobs came from Clara’s room.

  He stopped in front of her door and listened for a few seconds. Poor girl. She had put on a brave front since their father’s death, but it had obviously impacted her more deeply than she’d let anyone see.

  He glanced down the hall and then back at her door. Should he walk away and pretend he hadn’t heard or go in and try to comfort her? He didn’t know Clara very well, and he wasn’t sure what he could say that would help. But her crying continued, and he felt he must try.

  “Clara?” He tapped on h
er door.

  The crying stopped, but she didn’t reply.

  He knocked again. “It’s Nate. May I come in?”

  A few more seconds passed. “All right.”

  He slowly pushed the door open. Two small lamps glowed on either side of the bed, and flames flickered in the fireplace, illuminating the room. Clara sat in a high-backed chair by the hearth. Her shoulders sagged, and misery lined her face.

  She met his gaze, then quickly looked away. Her eyes were red, and she clutched a wrinkled handkerchief in her hand.

  He stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry to disturb you. But I heard you crying and I thought—”

  “What? That you’d come in and rescue me?” Her bitter tone took him by surprise.

  “No, I thought it might help if I looked in on you.”

  “Well, you needn’t bother.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the handkerchief. “I’m all right. I just have a cold.”

  “I think there must be another reason for your tears.”

  Her gaze darted back to him. “I don’t know why you would care.”

  He crossed the room and stood on the opposite side of the fireplace. “I care because I am your brother.”

  “Half brother, you mean.”

  He tipped his head slightly. “True, but we’ve been part of the same family since you were born.”

  “So you think that gives you some kind of special knowledge about me?” He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “You don’t know me. You left when I was fourteen, and you never bothered to write to me or visit me. Mother and Father didn’t talk about you often, but when they did, I could tell you had hurt them.”

  He stilled, struck by her words. He could make excuses, say his naval training or the war kept him away. But the truth was, he’d had extended leave a few times and could’ve made the trip home. Instead, he’d chosen to stay away and nurture his grievances.

  He straightened. “You’re right. I wish I could go back and make different choices, ones that wouldn’t hurt the people I care about, including you. I’m sorry, Clara.”

  Her tense expression eased, and a small light flickered in her eyes.