Vincent recalled the devastation to the corner of the house. He doubted there was anything recoverable from that destruction. Had she not been out walking in the storm, it is very likely she would now be dead.
Mrs. Wiggons walked up and settled beside Miss Crawford. “It is all right, dear. We will replace your belongings.” She sighed. “Well, those we can. I just hope your personal and treasured items were not ruined.”
“What is most important I keep with me,” Miss Crawford assured Mrs. Wiggons with a serious look.
“Of course you do, dear.” Mrs. Wiggons patted Miss Crawford’s hand.
Vincent decided not to try and understand this cryptic discussion. With women, one never knew what was important and what was not. He cleared his throat. “Will the others be ready soon?”
Mrs. Wiggons looked up. “Oh, yes. I had forgotten.”
She bustled off to what Vincent assumed was to retrieve the young ladies who would accompany him and Miss Crawford to his home.
Miss Crawford leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Vincent was at a loss for what to do. He paced the length of the porch, hands clasped behind his back, and took in the surrounding area. The girls and teachers, who had not yet left, watched him from a distance, and with suspicion. Did they anticipate this would be the last night they would see Miss Crawford and her students?
For the most part, the rumors did not bother him. Then there were rare times, such as this, and other times when he came into contact with his neighbors. Had one of them come to call on him since his return home? Did they send condolences upon his wife’s death?
He shook his head. Yes, they expressed their sympathy, but as soon as he behaved oddly, at least in their opinion, those same concerned neighbors stopped visiting him. A few of the very same neighbors now stood in the yard, scattered among the students and watched him with care. Would they leap in front of the young maidens to protect them from him?
“Here we are,” Mrs. Wiggons’ voice intruded on his thoughts.
He turned to find the headmistress with three girls standing behind her. They were the very ones who had spied on his house just yesterday. By their wide eyes and pale complexion, he assumed they were scared to death. They must think Mrs. Wiggons was serving them up as his next meal.
Mrs. Wiggons stepped aside and turned to the first young lady. “My lord, may I present Lady Rosemary Fairview.”
The young woman with chestnut hair dipped into a curtsey and kept her eyes downcast.
“Next is Miss Eliza Weston.” The redheaded girl looked him in the eye. Her head tilted to the side as if to study him while she curtseyed.
“Lastly is Lady Sophia Trent.”
The young, blond headed woman with blue eyes glanced up. Her lips trembled but her chin jutted out in determination and she looked him directly in the eyes. Only when Mrs. Wiggons nudged her did she drop, incline her head, and rise again.
“It is a pleasure to make each of your acquaintances.” He nodded to each of them.
They took a step back and practically cowered behind Mrs. Wiggons. Their visit was going to be very long.
“Well girls,” Miss Crawford announced and stood. “It is time you departed. Does everyone have what they need?”
The girls nodded, but Eliza shrugged.
“Oh dear, your room is as destroyed as mine, I suppose.” Miss Crawford came forward to hug the girl. “We will get on, I promise.”
Vincent feared the girl would dissolve into tears and stepped forward. “I dare say we should move on. It will be dawn soon and I prefer to be in doors when the sun rises.”
The girls’ eyes popped open, and they took another step back. Yes, a very long visit, even if it lasted but a day.
Vincent shook his head and stepped around them to Miss Crawford. He held out his hand to assist her and then linked her arm with his. He made a point of keeping a slow pace as he escorted her off the porch and onto the walkway. Miss Crawford paused and glanced back.
“Come along, girls. We don’t have all day. Lord Atwood said he must be inside before the sun rises.”
He glimpsed at the girls over his shoulder. Their eyes widened further. A tear slipped down Miss Fairview’s cheek before he turned back to Miss Crawford. If he did not know any better, he would have thought the teacher was intentionally trying to frighten the girls. A small smile pulled at her lips and confirmed his suspicions. He should be insulted that she would terrorize the girls at his expense, but he wasn’t. He was amused that the lady had the nerve to do something he himself had toyed with doing to the entire town, and right in front of him.
* * *
The girls followed but fell further and further behind – their heads together as they whispered to one another, but she couldn’t catch any words. Tess would never want to hurt Lord Atwood, not that she knew anything about him, but rumors were just that – rumors, with little, if any, truth. However, the girls needed to be taught a lesson. And, it would be such a delight to scare the girls for a day or so. It wasn’t like they would come to any harm. However, she could not risk hurting Lord Atwood.
She had come full circle. What to do?
“Eliza,” she turned back to her students. “Were you in your room tonight or somewhere else?” She still believed the girl too afraid to return to her own room after finishing Wake Not the Dead but was curious to her answer.
Eliza glanced at Sophia before she answered. “We were in Rosemary’s room.”
Tess halted and turned to face them. “Why on earth were you still up so late? We sent you to your separate rooms hours ago.” She shouldn’t persist, but as their teacher, she wanted an answer.
“We were reading,” Sophia answered.
“Not Wake not. . .” Tess began.
“Shhhh.” Eliza risked a glance to Lord Atwood. “We were reading The Veiled Picture by Anne Radcliffe.”
Tess sighed and turned back around and began walking once again. “While I should chastise each of you for staying up late reading, and not tucked in your own beds asleep, I dare say tonight could have come to a tragic end had you behaved for a change.”
Lord Atwood leaned down. “The Veiled Picture?”
“A horrid novel,” Tess snorted.
“Then they should adore my home.” He laughed.
Stunned, Tess looked at him.
He smiled down at her. “You shall see.”
They walked in silence, careful in their steps along the debris strewn lane. “I am still amazed at the damage,” Tess said after a few moments.
“I’ve only witnessed one other storm that strong.”
“Was there much damage? Were you injured?” she questioned, wanting to keep an open dialogue. She knew the girls whispered behind her. Knowing their imaginations and fear of Lord Atwood, she did not want him to overhear anything they may say against his character, no matter how far-fetched.
“We only lost a few boards off the stable. Some trees lost limbs, but nothing like this.”
“Watch your step, my lord,” Wesley called out. “This is where the tree came down.”
Tess glanced up to where the valet stood. He walked ahead of them with the lantern he brought from Atwood’s home held high, illuminating the area. The tree was huge. In the darkness she could not see either end so it appeared impossible to go around.
“It looks like we are going to have to climb over,” Atwood announced and came to a stop beside his servant. “I will go first. You assist the ladies from this side and I will help them on the other.”
Tess turned toward the girls, who held back. “Come on girls. I, for one, am tired and would like to arrive at our destination.”
The young ladies exchanged frightened looks before they glanced at Lord Atwood and then back to each other. Tess sighed and turned toward the tree. Perhaps she should not have teased them so much. But she never dreamed they would be so gullible as to believe in vampires. These were intelligent girls and reason should eventually come to the forefront. But apparently it had
n’t. She placed her hand in Wesley’s and climbed onto the tree. Even l on its side it almost came to her thighs and there was no ladylike manner in which to climb over and Tess hoped she did not expose too much leg in the process. Once she was settled on her knees in the middle of the trunk, she took her hand from Wesley and placed it in Atwood’s. He assisted her until she stood on the opposite side.
The girls hung back.
“Rosemary, you go first.”
The girl stepped forward with slow deliberate steps, placed her valise on the ground and mimicked Tess’s movements in climbing over the tree. As soon as she was on the other side, she moved to the opposite side of the lane from Atwood. Tess closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.
“Sophia, you are next.”
Sophia held Eliza’s hand until it was time to relinquish it to Wesley. Once she landed on the other side of the fallen tree, she scurried to stand next to Rosemary.
Without waiting to be told, Eliza climbed over the tree with no assistance and hurried to her friends. Wesley handed the lantern to Atwood, returned the two valises Sophia and Rosemary and joined group. Wesley paused to dust bark from his trousers and straighten his jacket. Only when his appearance was put to rights did he retrieve the light back from Atwood.
“Come along,” he announced and led the way, posture perfect and nothing out of place. Next to him Tess decided she probably resembled more of a street urchin, or the unfortunate victim of an unskilled seamstress.
One of the girls gasped when the clouds moved to cover the moon. Without the lantern, they would be in complete darkness and unable to see where they walked. The wind picked up and whistled through the branches.
How much further? She knew Atwood’s home lay not far away, but with the change in the scenery brought about by the storm, she was unsure exactly where they were.
“I dare say, Lord Atwood,” Wesley called back. “We should quicken our pace if we wish to arrive prior to the next storm.”
“You are right,” his lordship answered.
“Come along girls,” Tess called behind her. “We don’t want to get drenched if it begins to rain again.”
“Yes, Miss Crawford,” Sophia answered in a shaky voice.
Tess hoped they made it to the house before the rain. This was her only dress. Who knew how long it would take to retrieve her clothing from her room, and if any were reparable after the closet had been crushed by a tree?
She would not think about that now. There was nothing she could do at the moment. With any luck, there would be a servant who could loan her a serviceable dress until she could replace her own clothing. Despite the tempest, she had been lucky tonight. Had she not taken the walk, she could have very well been crushed to death in her own bed. The thought brought a shiver and goose pimples to her arm.
“Are you cold, Miss Crawford?” Lord Atwood looked down at her with concern.
“I was just reflecting on what could have happened.”
“I suppose,” he offered and looked straight ahead.
It was an odd response, but another matter Tess would not dwell on. Though the man had saved her and offered a place to sleep, it is not like she knew him well, or at all for that matter. Hopefully, they would be able to return to the school tomorrow, so that he was not inconvenienced any more than necessary.
“I do believe we will beat the rain. Come along girls,” Wesley called back as he rounded the corner.
Tess could not tell if they quickened their steps or not, but did not look back. This had been a long night and they would catch up eventually.
The group rounded the corner as the clouds moved on. Moonlight illuminated Atwood’s home. She heard gasps from behind. So, the girls weren’t that far away.
Tess took in the sight before them and could imagine what was going on in the girl’s heads. Shutters hung at crooked angles along the top floor. A tree limb had fallen against the house. Even from here, she could hear the scraping against the window when the wind blew. Though the place appeared to remain intact, it no longer resembled the well-managed, immaculate manor she had seen in the daylight. If not for the single light that moved through the rooms below, one would have thought this place long abandoned.
“It looks worse than it is, Lord Atwood,” Wesley assured and stepped onto the walkway. The gate lay on its side in their path and they carefully stepped though the wrought iron bars to keep from tripping.
The front door banged open and against the inside wall.
“The latch was broken in the storm. We will seal it shut tonight, once everyone is within.”
“He is going to seal us in? In there?” Rosemary whispered from behind.
He sheds bitter, scalding tears, and thou reposest
unregarding his affliction? He is in despair, and thou
no longer openest thy arms to him as an asylum from his grief?
Wake Not the Dead
Johann Ludwig Tieck
Chapter 5
Lightening flashed in the distance and the roll of thunder soon followed. Tess heard one of the girls squeak.
It was going to be a very long night and she would be lucky if the three didn’t insist on sleeping with her.
They stepped into the portico just as an older woman was intent on pushing the door closed. She was small and round with her hair in disarray. Wesley held up the lantern so she could recognize them while he studied her appearance from head to toe. If Tess wasn’t mistaken, Wesley actually tisked before he moved on. The harried servant harrumphed and turned away while her hands went to her head to smooth the loose wisps of hair.
“Lord Atwood!” she cried when she saw her employer. “We were so worried about you, being out in the storm and all.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Zobard. I was lucky enough to gain access to the family tomb when the storm blew in.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, or perhaps it was fright. Tess was not sure.
“Well,” she said when she finally gained her composure, “lucky for you that you insist on carrying your keys everywhere.”
He stepped aside and the girls followed them into the foyer. “The school has suffered some damage and theses students and their teacher, Miss Crawford, need lodgings for the night.”
Mrs. Zobard brightened as if the prospect of having guests, despite the lack of warning, pleased her, and Lord Atwood quickly introduced the foursome.
“It is a pleasure to have you as guests in this house.” She clapped her hands together. Yes, that was a smile on her lips. From past experience, most servants were not so exuberant to have unexpected guests thrust at them, especially in the middle of the night. Though few voiced their displeasure for fear of losing their position, none smiled with happiness in the manner of Mrs. Zobard.
“It is been an age since anyone has visited,” the servant gushed.
“How long will it be before rooms are made ready?” Atwood slipped out of his greatcoat and handed it to a footman.
A grin broke on her face. “We have rooms available now, my lord.”
Atwood’s chin dropped and an eyebrow rose. “Indeed.”
The woman wrung her hands together and continued. “There is very little for the staff to do, Lord Atwood, so we keep the house in readiness for any event that may occur.”
“Indeed,” he repeated again.
Tess could not understand this man. The closer they came to his home, the quieter he became with comments being limited to as few syllables and words as possible.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Use the four rooms at the south end. I prefer them as far away from my chambers as possible.” He turned on his heel and without further comment, stalked down the hall and disappeared into a room at the end.
Why had he bothered to invite them in the first place if they were going to be such a disruption? It was Atwood, after all, who made the offer in the first place so there was no cause for him to be terse with them now.
Tess shook the thoughts from her head and turned towa
rd the servants. They would be gone tomorrow. All she and the girls really needed at the moment was a good night’s sleep.
“Very well, then.” Wesley brightened and clasped his hands together. “Mrs. Zobard will show you to your rooms. Ring if you need anything.”
He turned and walked after his lordship.
“Come along, ladies.” Mrs. Zobard, with a black iron, scroll decorated candelabra, ancient and ornate, in her hands, led them to a staircase off the entry way. Tess wished she could see the décor, but she couldn’t see further ahead than ten feet. Their only light was what Mrs. Zobard carried.
The housekeeper mounted the stairs and her candles cast shadows along what appeared to be a dark paneled wall. The girls shrank together, their shadows mingling to make them appear as one, and slowly followed the housekeeper.
At the top of the stairs Mrs. Zobard turned left and continued down the dark corridor. Tess could not tell the color, but her shoes sank into the softness of the carpet beneath her.
“Don’t be bothered by Lord Atwood wanting you far away. He’s just is sensitive to noises, is all, and he hasn’t had guests since before he left for the Continent.”
Despite the housekeeper’s explanation, Tess knew her students were inventing more nefarious reasons why he wanted them far away. No doubt it had something to do with avoiding the temptation to drink their blood. She snorted at her own thoughts as she followed the housekeeper down the hall.
Mrs. Zobard jerked her head to the side and cast Tess an irritated look. Gone was any humor or pleasantry. Instead, her lips were pressed together in a firm line and her eyes narrowed on Tess. With the light casting shadows on the hollow of her cheeks, circles beneath her eyes and grey hair in disarray, Tess wondered if the friendliness displayed by the housekeeper in the foyer was all an act. Perhaps they needed to be cautious of this woman instead of Lord Atwood. Tess took a step back and shook the thoughts from her mind. She was getting to be as bad as the girls. Her over-reactive imagination was simply brought on by the storm, the girl’s fear and this old, spooky manor. She was sure by that in the light of the day she will laugh at her silliness.
To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1) Page 3