“It’s nothing really,” explained Adele softly. She felt utterly powerless against her uncle. He was always ten steps ahead, laying traps and playing games. It was true, she had stumbled upon Milo and Knox talking in the orchard, but she had not set out to eavesdrop. Yet, that is exactly what she did…and Silas knew it.
“Milo was asking about Moses,” she confessed. “About how long he had been at Sommerset—that sort of thing.”
“What else?” said Silas firmly.
“Well…he was asking about the car accident that killed Lady Bloom.”
Silas leaned forward in his chair, his eyes hungry. “Go on.”
“Milo seemed very curious.” She shook her head. “That’s all I know.”
“Has Moses spoken to the boy?” he hissed. “Tell me!”
“I don’t know,” said Adele. “I haven’t seen them together, honestly, Uncle Silas. What I told you is the truth, and that’s all I know.”
His face shone a ghostly white, and when Adele lifted her head to look at him something terrible and black danced behind his eyes.
“It is as I expected,” he whispered. Then he closed his eyes and when he opened them again Adele saw a new softness there. “You have done well, child—but next time, do not lie to me, or I will not be so forgiving.”
***
When Adele entered the darkened library she was still shaking. Silas’s black eyes and the chill in his voice were burned into her memory. He was playing with her, she knew that now. Milo was the one he was really interested in. Not her.
Had she truly thought she had a chance of becoming the next heir of Sommerset?
Pacing in front of the black marble fireplace, Adele tried to calm herself. To think clearly. For every puzzle there was a solution—her father had always said that. Her mind flooded with visions of the cloaked Dr. Mangrove. Of the elusive basement.
If she could only find a way in. Then, perhaps, she would know how better to deal with Uncle Silas.
Looking up into the darkness of the library’s towering wall of books, Adele noticed for the first time how the moonlight broke through the large windows on the upper level, sifting into a narrow shaft of light that hit a remote corner of the second-floor shelves. It looked very peculiar—this single shard of light spotlighting a small row of books…as if…as if it were pointing the way.
Then it hit her. Theodore Epstein Bloom’s engraving at the threshold to the library’s secret entrance.
Only in Darkness Will You See the Light.
Did it refer to this—a single point of moonlight cutting through the darkened library? That had to be it! Running two steps at a time, Adele raced up the narrow staircase to the second floor, sprinting around to the farthest corner of the room. The moonlight narrowed into a small round beam illuminating a narrow range of books on the bottom shelf. She crouched down and read the spines, which were glowing a silvery white. The Complete History of String Vol. 1–6.
Her heart sunk. String? What did that have to do with the secrets of Sommerset House? With little enthusiasm she grabbed volume two from the shelf. As it slid out a grinding sound, like metal wheels beginning to turn, broke the silence. Then the entire row of books split in the middle, cranking slowly back on either side like a parting curtain.
Adele could hardly believe it.
Tilting her head, she squinted into the deep recess that had opened behind it. The cavity was lined in red velvet and held a small number of tattered old books. She reached in and carefully pulled them out. They looked ancient. One by one she sorted through the titles, her hands tingling with excitement and fear—The Journal of Theodore Epstein Bloom; How to Mind Control the One You Love; The Lost Art of Black Magic; The Science of the Soul.
The final tome was pale blue with faded silver leaf lettering. Sommerset House—Architectural Notes and Blueprints. Yes! If any book could help her find a way into the basement, this was it.
Making herself more comfortable on the floor, Adele was moving the other books to one side when a name caught her eye. The book was The Science of the Soul. The author—Dr. Mikal Mangrove! Could it be the same Dr. Mangrove who was hiding in the basement of Sommerset? Surely it was no coincidence. Carefully, she opened the book and immediately her eyes fell upon the publication date. She froze. No.
No, it was not possible!
She read it again.
Printed in 1867. Dr. Mangrove was more than 150 years old! Trembling, Adele opened the book and began to read.
17
The Tables Turn
Two days passed, and the police investigation made little progress. The weapon used to cut the elevator cable had not been located, and without an eyewitness, hopes of identifying Silas’s would-be assassin began to fade.
Just as life slowly returned to normal on the island, Silas’s health began to deteriorate. He fainted several times in the gardens and was often breathless and unable to leave his bed.
It was clear to all that Silas was in the final stages of his illness.
Refusing to give in to the gloom of her brother’s condition, Rosemary organized a special lunch in his honor to be held in the wildflower meadow. Mrs. Hammer oversaw the preparations and the kitchen created a feast of lobsters, cheese platters, leafy salads, and trays of delicious fruits from the orchard.
On the day of the picnic, the sun sat high in the pale blue sky. Isabella had insisted on escorting Silas and Thorn to the luncheon all by herself—desperate to spend as much time alone with her uncle as possible. While she no longer regarded Milo as real competition for Silas’s fortune (he hated the man, after all), the same could not be said for Adele. Despite a string of disasters, Silas still seemed to take a particular interest in the little tomato head—twice Isabella had seen them whispering together in the library.
It was infuriating!
Fortunately, Isabella had a new plan. She had recently learned that her uncle was fiercely protective of a particular flower in his garden—the Phoenix rose—and would explode with rage if anyone even went near one of them. With this information in mind, Isabella convinced dear Adele to cut a large bunch of the Phoenix roses to decorate the table at Silas’s special lunch.
Adele, still desperate to get back in her uncle’s good graces after poisoning his crocodile, immediately took the bait. Wickedly, Isabella suggested that Adele write a special card to go with the flowers.
“That way,” she explained, “Uncle Silas will know that the gesture was all yours!”
“Yes,” said Adele eagerly, “a note. What a great idea!”
Walking through the central garden room with Silas and Thorn on their way to the lunch, Isabella stopped to admire a yellow rose.
“Oh, how beautiful!” She sighed dreamily. “It is just fortunate that Sommerset will never be mine. You see, unlike Adele, I could never change anything about the island. Not a single thing.”
“Come now—surely you would change something about the place?”
“Never! It is paradise,” she remarked, “and should remain exactly as it is today.”
Silas closed his eyes and Isabella noticed how fragile he seemed.
“What a pity, child,” he whispered, “that you made me promise not to consider you as my heir.”
In mere seconds Isabella was kneeling by her uncle’s chair, her hand gently stroking his bony arm. “But, Uncle, you know I have no need for it,” she said earnestly. “Not like Adele and Milo, who are so very poor.” She pointed to a group of potted fig trees beneath a stone window. “I would have more use for one of those trees than I would for Sommerset.”
“Indeed,” said Silas.
Isabella sighed again. “But I suppose,” she said solemnly, “if you did have your heart set on leaving Sommerset to me…well, I would have to put my own feelings aside and accept your wishes, Uncle.” She kissed his cold hand. “You know what is best, aft
er all.”
***
Down the meadow, under the shade of the enormous evergreen oak, a long table was laid with polished silverware and bone china. In the center stood a large crystal vase filled to the brim with flaming Phoenix roses.
When Isabella arrived with Silas and Thorn she made certain that her uncle did not go directly to the table, insisting that he sit out in the sun and rest while the final preparations were made. The idea seemed to please him, and Isabella walked with Silas down to the lake. She placed a blanket over his legs and kissed his cheek.
“I will call you when lunch is ready, Uncle,” she said sweetly.
“Actually,” said Silas, “I wish to have a word with you…with all of you. Please gather your cousins and bring them down to me.”
“Now?” asked Isabella.
“Indeed.”
Dutifully, Isabella returned to the oak tree. She found Adele first and congratulated her on the flowers.
“They look wonderful, cousin!”
“Thank you,” said Adele shyly. “I had to climb the wall to get into Uncle Silas’s hidden garden. I was certain Moses would catch me! Do you really think he will like them?”
“He will love them!” declared Isabella. “You wrote a card as I suggested?”
“Yes,” said Adele. “I just hope he is pleased this time.”
“I am sure of it, cousin,” said Isabella reassuringly. She looked about the meadow. “Now where on earth is the orphan? Uncle Silas wants to speak with all of us before lunch.”
Once Milo was located (he was found wandering around near the greenhouse), the three cousins headed down to the lake to meet with their uncle.
“There is something you should know,” announced Silas without delay. “From tonight on, your bedrooms will have to be locked from the outside. This measure is being taken for your own safety.”
“You can’t do that!” said Milo angrily. “We are not prisoners!”
“It does seem rather extreme, Uncle,” said Isabella more gently.
“It is for your own protection,” said Silas matter-of-factly. “There is an assassin somewhere on the island, and until that person is captured, I must do everything I can to protect you.” Turning his back and moving away from the children, he added, “In time you will get used to it.”
Adele had a terrible feeling. After her discovery in the library, she knew that Uncle Silas was planning something truly awful, and she did not believe for one minute that locking them up at night had anything to do with the attempt on his life. She wanted to say something to her cousins, to warn them, but before she could, Rosemary called everyone to come and sit down.
As the maids began serving lunch, Silas took his position at the head of the table. It took only seconds for him to notice the crystal vase brimming with murdered Phoenix roses. His face froze in an expression of disbelief and rage.
Adele and Isabella exchanged excited glances as Silas reached for the small white envelope at the base of the vase and tore it open.
“Do read it aloud, Uncle!” urged Isabella. She could hardly contain her excitement—surely Silas would have Adele flogged and thrown from the island for this!
“Very well,” hissed Silas. “The card says, From your loving niece…Isabella.”
Instantly the satisfied smile fell from Isabella’s face, replaced with a look of extreme confusion.
“What?” she shrieked. “Um, Uncle…don’t you mean, From your loving niece Adele?”
“No, I do not.” Silas threw the card at her. He looked pained as he continued to stare at his beloved flowers, blooming in shades of orange and red like a hundred heads of fire.
“These flowers are precious,” he seethed, his teeth glistening like fangs. “How dare you touch them, Isabella! You stupid little imbecile!”
Isabella began to tremble.
“But…Uncle…there has been a mistake. You see…” But she could not explain. Not without revealing her role in the whole dreadful business. She was trapped.
Adele leaned over to her cousin and whispered, “You have helped me so much, Isabella. It didn’t seem right that I keep taking all the credit for your wonderful ideas.” She smiled sweetly. “This is just my way of saying thank you, cousin.”
Isabella gasped.
“Why, you little freckled-face freak!” she spat, her nostrils flaring. “I’ll get you for this, I swear I will!” She turned to face her uncle like a guilty prisoner awaiting her sentence. “Uncle, you must understand that I did not do—”
“Do not say another word!” Silas snapped, interrupting her. “I think it would be best if you returned to your room at once.”
“But, Uncle—”
“Go!” hissed Silas, his black eyes swelling with rage. Isabella jumped up, knocking her chair to the ground and running toward the house, crying loudly the whole way.
“They’re only flowers, for goodness sake,” said Rosemary with a scowl.
“No, they are not!” declared Silas. “They are everything!” He backed away from the table. “I have lost my appetite,” he said curtly. “You must continue without me.”
With the guest of honor gone, Rosemary called her brother several awful names before grabbing two large lobsters and a cheese platter and stomping off toward the summerhouse. Next to go was Milo. He had still not forgiven Adele for conspiring with Isabella to make him a suspect in the elevator crash. He left without a word.
Adele looked somberly around the abandoned table.
When Isabella first came to her and suggested she pick the Phoenix roses for Uncle Silas, Adele was already awake to her cousin’s true motive. That horrible night after Thorn was poisoned, Adele had looked back over everything that had happened since she arrived on the island and her cousin’s manipulation was suddenly, shockingly clear…Isabella had been playing her for a fool since day one! Every kind word, every piece of helpful advice—it had all been one gigantic trick!
And if Adele had any doubts about her theory they vanished when Isabella encouraged her to pick the flowers her uncle loved so much. Cutting Silas’s beloved Phoenix roses, killing them, was hardly going please him. It didn’t make sense. Actually, it did make sense. Isabella wasn’t trying to help Adele; she was trying to destroy her chances. Not only was her cousin a thief and a liar, she was scheming to get Sommerset all for herself!
Hurt and anger fueled her decision to get even with Isabella for all the horrible things she had done—and it had worked. Isabella had been disgraced in Uncle Silas’s eyes. And yet, getting even hadn’t taken away the deep unease coiled in the pit of her stomach. In fact, it had only intensified since her shocking discovery in the library. It was the same unease she had tried to bury that first morning when a passing cloud had revealed Sommerset House as a great squatting beast, its sharp talons poised to strike.
Only now was she beginning to understand what that gruesome vision had been trying to tell her—the monster poised to strike was Silas Winterbottom.
18
Midnight Caller
Two candles mounted in a silver bracket on the wall illuminated the library in a soft apricot glow. Silas sat under the flickering light with his eyes closed, his right hand stroking the rough scales of Thorn’s head.
He was waiting.
“Sorry I am late, Uncle,” she said, rushing into the room.
Silas’s eyes flicked open, two dark globes glistening in the dim light.
“As am I,” said Silas sharply. “After what you did today, consider it a small miracle that you are even here, child.”
“Yes, Uncle. I’m very sorry—”
“Silence. I am in no mood for groveling. It is late, and you should be locked up safely in your bedroom like your cousins. I trust you have a very good reason for requesting this meeting.”
“Yes, Uncle. You see, I must tell you that there is a th
ief in the house.”
“A thief?” said Silas slowly.
She nodded. “They have stolen silverware, clocks…all kinds of things. I’ve seen her stealing with my own eyes.” She stopped, her voice breaking up. “I don’t want to get anybody in trouble, but I can’t keep it from you any longer.”
Silas observed his niece with great interest, his pallid face suddenly more vibrant than it had been in days. “I am very pleased that you have come to me with this.” He rubbed at his lips. “Now tell me, child, who is the thief?”
“It is Adele,” she said, the glow from the flickering candle dancing across her face. “I saw her take the silverware at dinner last week.” Isabella wiped at her eyes. “Oh, Uncle, I never thought someone as kind and gentle as Adele could steal from her own family!”
“Indeed,” remarked Silas. “I must confess that after you mutilated my roses, I had no desire to see your face ever again.” He took a shallow breath. “But you have impressed me, Isabella; turning in your cousin like this takes considerable…courage.”
“What will happen now?” Isabella asked. “What will you do to her?”
“I will do what needs to be done.”
***
Rosemary dug into the deep pockets of her dressing gown, finding two walnuts and a hairpin. She replaced the hairpin and began to munch enthusiastically on the nuts, humming all the while. From the glass dome high above her, moonlight bathed the entrance hall in a pearly glow. Even Rosemary’s mass of tangled red hair looked soft and pale. She stepped over one of the deeper cracks in the floor, twirling around playfully as she went.
“Does the state of my floor amuse you, Rosemary?”
The chunky woman was startled, letting out a gasp. “Good lord! You nearly scared the life out of me, Silas!”
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