Dawn at Emberwilde

by Sarah E. Ladd

  Mr. Galloway continued. “Also, this timepiece was found in one of the tunnels. I have not had the opportunity to share it with you until now. Does it look familiar to you at all?”

  Isabel wanted to hear no more. She turned to leave, but as she did, her eyes landed on a large, black shadow.

  She gave a little cry.

  For there stood Mr. Bradford.

  “You gave me a fright!” Isabel exclaimed, jumping back. Her heart beat wildly.

  “I did not mean to frighten you. I just wondered where you escaped to. For that is what you were doing, was it not? Escaping?”

  Her heart raced within her chest. She was escaping, yes. But not in the sense he meant.

  She swallowed and finally, reluctantly, lifted her eyes to meet his.

  His expression held such warmth, such intensity, that she silently reminded herself she may not be able to trust what she saw. It was her heart that sounded the first warning. Beating rapidly and hard, it alerted her senses to danger.

  Most women could hardly consider Mr. Bradford a danger. For not only was he handsome, he was good. He dedicated his life to others. He helped the needy.

  But then, Mr. Galloway had mentioned the foundling home in relation to the man without a hand. Her aunt and Mr. Bradford had been arguing. Something was wrong, she could feel it.

  He stood between her and the door, his broad shoulders filling the frame. She parted her lips to draw breath, for regular breath was insufficient.

  “If you will excuse me, Mr. Bradford, I am sure my aunt is wondering where I am.”

  She offered an awkward smile and attempted to brush past him to the safety of the corridor, but as she did, he blocked her path.

  She glanced around quickly, looking for any escape. How foolish she had been to wander off alone. She should have gone to her room, or any room not so close to the gathering.

  But he persisted. “You did not answer my question. Hiding or escaping?”

  She had to force herself to look him in the eye. “Neither. Merely getting some air.”

  “That is a relief,” he exclaimed. “For I hope I would not cause you to wish to escape.”

  The comment was innocent enough in nature, yet spoken with such an air of familiarity that Isabel stiffened. “Of course not, Mr. Bradford. I . . . I am just not used to such gatherings.”

  “Yes, I daresay events like this were uncommon at Fellsworth. I suppose that is one of the reasons I find your opinions on such things so important. You are intriguing, Miss Creston. I must admit that I find you a bit fascinating. Might I share a secret with you?”

  She did not want to hear it.

  But he continued anyway.

  “I care little for these sorts of gatherings, other than the fact I enjoy the company of your dear aunt and cousin, and of course, you.”

  She could no longer meet his gaze. “I must return to my aunt.”

  He stepped closer, his breath barely above a whisper. “Do you not feel it, Miss Creston?”

  She remained silent, unable to organize her thoughts quickly enough for a suitable response.

  “Please, sir, I am not one to hear such things. I—”

  “From the moment I first saw you, darling, beautiful Isabel, my mind has not been able to focus on any other idea. You consume my every thought, you are my every desire.”

  Her ears burned at the sound of her Christian name on his lips.

  He stepped closer, and she shrank back against a table. She was trapped.

  He reached out to touch her arm. She jerked it back, disrupting the contents of the table and sending a small figurine to the floor.

  He did not seem to notice her discomfort. Instead, he pressed closer. “Oh, my Isabel. For I may call you that, may I not? I know you have felt it too. I see it in your expression. I flatter myself into thinking that by some glorious miracle you might return my adoration.”

  His voice crept to an intimate whisper, and he lifted a finger to brush her hair from her face. “I see no sense in delaying, do you? Say you will, dearest Isabel. Say you will become my wife.”

  The door to the library creaked open.

  She drew a sharp breath. Discovery would either save her or condemn her.

  The light from the library lit a man from behind, his broad shoulders strong and straight in the light.

  “Mr. Galloway,” she breathed. Rescued.

  Again.

  Mr. Bradford turned, and Isabel took advantage of his moment of distraction and ducked away from him.

  Relief rushed her, but embarrassment soon replaced her fear.

  She wanted the ground to swallow her.

  She could feel Mr. Bradford’s energy change. The warmth in his eyes had cooled, and they were fixed on Mr. Galloway.

  “Forgive me. I’ve no wish to interrupt.” Mr. Galloway’s words were clipped, and iciness lingered unapologetically in his expression. He appeared almost angry as he assessed Mr. Bradford.

  Isabel did not take the time to consider this too closely, for she found the opportunity to step toward the middle of the room and put distance between herself and Mr. Bradford.

  “You are not interrupting at all, Mr. Galloway.” She rushed toward him, perhaps a bit too eagerly. She felt her energy rise, her heart rate calm, her flushed face cool. “You are most welcome here. My aunt will be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”

  She cast a quick glance at Mr. Galloway as she passed him at the door. She whispered, “Thank you.”

  She did not linger. She had avoided what she feared would lead to something worse than an undesired proposal, and she did not look back.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Miss Creston flew past Colin, a vision of shimmering muslin and glistening eyes.

  The two men stood locked in a dead stare for several seconds. Bradford’s eyes hardened. “What do you want, Galloway?”

  Colin folded his arms across his chest. He was not sure what he had interrupted, but he did not like what he saw. “I was just leaving the library after a talk with Ellison.”

  “Only the most poorly bred find themselves above knocking.”

  If Bradford meant the stab at his background to hurt, he chose the wrong ploy.

  Bradford’s face deepened to crimson, and he yanked at his cravat. He lifted his chin in the door’s direction. “What did she say to you, on her way out?”

  Colin forced his own expression to stay calm and vigilant. He ignored Bradford’s question. “Consider yourself fortunate that it was me and not Ellison who happened upon this little rendezvous of yours.”

  “I did not ask for your opinion,” spat Bradford. He stepped so close that Colin could smell the port on his breath. “I’m warning you, Galloway. Do not interfere.”

  “You are warning me?” Colin exclaimed, as if amused by the idea.

  “I don’t know what you are up to, but heed my words. Do not insert yourself between Isabel and me.”

  Why the sound of her Christian name should incite such fury, he did not know. But he could feel anger begin to bubble within him. Yes, he had stumbled upon Bradford in a compromising position. But Colin had another advantage, one that was far broader in scope and impact.

  “I shall not interfere unless given a reason to,” Colin said. “But are you sure this is only about Miss Creston?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Colin reached into his pocket, retrieved the pocket watch, and extended it toward Bradford. “If I am not mistaken, this is yours.”

  Bradford snatched the timepiece and turned it over in his hand. “Where did you get it?”

  “Found it. In the Emberwilde Forest tunnels behind the foundling home. I can’t help but wonder how it got there.”

  Bradford stuffed the watch in his pocket before muttering, “Obviously it was stolen.”

  “Really?” challenged Colin. “Stolen by whom? One of the children? Dent or Stanway?”

  Bradford clenched his jaw before responding. “You are sorely mistaken if you are suggestin
g I am involved in whatever game you are playing.”

  Bradford stomped from the room like a spoiled boy, and his action brought their conversation to a screeching halt.

  Once Bradford was gone, Colin stood in the room’s silence for several moments.

  He had heard Bradford confess that the timepiece was his. That should make him happy. He was one small step closer to figuring out this mess, for he highly doubted it was stolen, as Bradford suggested. And he had done a great job pretending the sight of Miss Creston and Mr. Bradford had no effect on him. But the silly grin on Mr. Bradford’s face made his stomach turn. He had not seen Miss Creston’s face, and he dared not linger on the thought. He recalled Mr. Bradford’s ways with ladies, his ability to manipulate a woman’s good sense and mold it to his liking. He had no way of knowing whether Miss Creston was a willing participant or an innocent bystander in this rendezvous, but the idea of Bradford having her in his sights made him sick.

  Colin was ready to quit Emberwilde for the evening.

  He found his cousin in the billiards room. Henry was seated along the far wall under the window, glass of port in hand, watching a game between Wasson and Ellison. Bradford was not present.

  He crossed the room and tapped his cousin’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  “What, leave? I’m not ready to leave.” Henry huffed at the ridiculous notion and indulged in a long swig. “What’s wrong with you? You look as sour as an old goat. Plus, you and I need to talk. You left the office so early today I haven’t had a chance to keep you updated.”

  Colin did not wish to hear about the work that was waiting for him. “Can it not wait? This is hardly the place.”

  “I’ve never known us to need somewhere special to talk. Besides, no one here is interested in what either of us has to say, and I think you will find this interesting. Do you remember that day when the Holden girl brought the baby in? I told you I was heading out to Heddeston Park to assist the steward and solicitor in locating the official heir?”

  Colin nodded but was distracted by the thoughts swirling in his head. “Yes. And?”

  “To make a long and complicated story short, it turns out that our Miss Creston is not completely dependent upon her aunt and uncle, as we thought.”

  At the mention of Miss Creston’s name, Colin jerked his attention back to his cousin. “What do you mean?”

  His cousin leaned forward and cast a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was listening. “Earlier today I had another meeting with the solicitor assisting the steward at Heddeston Park.”

  Colin stiffened as the image of Mrs. Ellison’s childhood home flashed before his mind’s eye.

  Henry continued. “The very one. After meeting with Heddeston’s steward, who stayed on to sort out the estate after the late master’s death, they had significant trouble finding the heir. It seems that after all this time, they have found her.”

  Colin raised his eyebrows. “Her?”

  “Yes, her.” Henry pressed his lips together and nodded. “Mr. Hayworth left his estate to his eldest child’s eldest child. Anna was his firstborn, and they searched for her daughter but could not locate her. As you know, there was a great scandal around the Crestons’ marriage, and Mr. Hayworth made every effort to hide the details, even from his steward, which complicated matters. But his steward was diligent, and eventually tracked down Mr. Creston, only to learn that he had died. He almost gave up hope of finding their daughter but grew suspicious after Mrs. Ellison invited her niece to stay with them.”

  Colin shifted in his chair, not liking the direction this news was taking. “Surely Mrs. Ellison would know the details of the family inheritance and inform Miss Creston. I would imagine that to be common knowledge within the family.”

  “Too true, but this is where it gets interesting. Keep in mind that Mrs. Ellison is the younger of Mr. Hayworth’s daughters. There was no other legal entailment to the property, and since their father was a self-made man, he could leave the estate to whomever he chose. His will was written specifically that the property should pass down through the oldest child’s line. Since Anna Creston is dead, her offspring has until the age of twenty-one to lay claim to the inheritance, otherwise it will pass to the next child in line, which is Mrs. Margaret Ellison. So in short, the estate passes to Anna’s offspring. And that is—”

  “Miss Creston.” Colin breathed the name.

  “Exactly.”

  “If the solicitor knew that Mrs. Ellison had her niece in her home, why hasn’t he spoken with them yet?”

  “Apparently there were some questions surrounding Mr. Creston and whether Miss Isabel Creston was indeed the person they were looking for, but now he is quite certain she is.”

  “Does Miss Creston know this yet?” asked Colin.

  “I don’t know how she would, unless a member of the Ellison family has informed her.” Henry shrugged. “I about fell out of my chair when the solicitor finally informed me of all the details. Somehow the Ellisons were able to get to Miss Creston before the solicitor.” Henry cut his eyes to the billiards table, where the other men were fully engrossed in their game. “So to your question of whether Mrs. Ellison knew of the will . . .”

  “Are you saying the Ellisons intentionally kept this information from Miss Creston so they could lay claim to the estate?”

  “I do not wish to put words in another person’s mouth. But if Isabel Creston does not claim the inheritance by age twenty-one, Heddeston Park will pass to Mrs. Ellison.”

  Understanding dawned over Colin. “And Mr. Ellison will control the assets.”

  “And all their financial troubles will vanish.” Henry took a swig of the port.

  Colin hardly dared to believe the Ellisons would deceive their own flesh and blood. Money—the pursuit of it, the possession of it, and the promise of it—could cause people to act without conscience.

  “When is her twenty-first birthday, do you know?” Colin asked.

  “According to the solicitor it is the twenty-third of August.”

  Colin’s disgust turned to anger within him as he reviewed the story in his mind. Miss Creston needed to know the truth. And he would do whatever was in his power to make sure that no one, not even her own family, took advantage of her.

  He stood and prepared to leave the room. “She must be told.”

  Henry laid a hand on his arm. “Wait a moment. If the Ellisons have brought her here for their own gain, consider that you might jeopardize her safety.”

  Colin yanked his arm free. “I will protect her.”

  He left the billiards room, intent upon finding a moment to speak privately with Miss Creston.

  But for the rest of the night, she was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Isabel lay curled in her bed, tears racing down her cheeks.

  She had not returned to the party after the interlude with Bradford.

  She was far too mortified.

  Mr. Bradford had proposed to her, and she never gave an answer. Not really.

  So that meant the question was out there, lingering in the shadows and hidden places of Emberwilde.

  And what was worse, Mr. Galloway had witnessed their private interaction.

  She wondered if her aunt would discover her offense. It seemed unlikely that a man would share information about a failed proposal, but the relationship between Mr. Bradley and her aunt was an odd one.

  Seconds slipped into minutes. Minutes slipped into an hour.

  She watched the moon outside of her window slide across the endless black sky and waited for the inevitable explosion that would occur when her aunt learned what had happened.

  Isabel sighed and looked to the space where a fire normally glowed. There was no fire in her grate, no lit candle lamp.

  How she wished for brightness and lightness. Everything felt heavy, shrouded in dismal melancholy. The dawn was still hours away.

  At some point Isabel drifted off to sleep, but a sharp rapping at her chamb
er door jerked her awake.

  Isabel straightened, still in her new gown, as Aunt Margaret burst into her chamber.

  “What have you done?” Her aunt’s shrill voice echoed off the chamber ceiling. “Of all the disrespect!”

  Constance followed her mother into the chamber, a sympathetic expression on her tired face.

  Isabel stood. She could pretend not to know what her aunt was angry about, but it would be a lie.

  “After all we have done for you and your sister. You ungrateful, selfish child.”

  Isabel froze. Never had she been spoken to in such a manner.

  “Mr. Bradford told me what has happened. How dare you run away like a spoiled child. Your future, Isabel! Your future! We cannot be responsible for you forever. He deserves the decency of an answer, and you will give one to him.”

  Isabel knew he deserved an answer, but she did not like her aunt’s forceful tone. “I never asked you to be responsible for me forever.”

  Her aunt huffed. “And what are you going to do? A lady needs to be married and settled. You will be of age in just a few weeks, and what then? The world is a scary, uncertain place. Do not be so foolish to think that your training will be enough to protect you. Consider Miss Smith! Is that the life you would have for yourself?”

  Isabel jutted her chin out. She felt like a reprimanded child. Well, she was not a child. She was a woman of sound mind and judgment. “Why yes, I think it far preferable to marrying a man I do not love.”

  “Do not fool yourself. You have no fortune, no dowry. Consider, Isabel!”

  The words were hard to hear. Isabel shook her head, as if to dislodge them from her memory. “I am not afraid of work, Aunt.”

  And it was the truth. She was prepared, more prepared than she thought she had imagined. It was this new life and these new expectations that she was not prepared for. “I do not understand this rush to marry.”

  Her aunt threw her hand in the air. “Are you daft? It is crucial because nothing is certain. Money is not certain. Futures are not certain. Engagements are not a guarantee.”