The Mysteries of Pendowar Hall (The Audacious Sisterhood of Smoke & Fire #1)

Chapter Sixteen

T he workshop was of a good size.

As she entered, Diana was immediately conscious of the pungent fragrance of freshly cut wood and the wood shavings that peppered the floor. Dozens of saws, drills, and other tools hung on racks affixed to the walls, nestled amongst chests with small drawers and shelves piled high with lumber of various shapes and sizes. Miss Fallbrook was across the room, exploring. A door at the back was ajar, leading to what looked like a small chamber.

Captain Fallbrook crossed to the hearth, where he draped Diana’s cloak and gloves over a chair to dry. She moved close to the flames and held out her hands, relishing the warmth that spread through her body. “What a marvelous shop.”

“It was built over a hundred years ago by the same ancestor who, as the story goes, fell in love with a mermaid.”

“The one who carved the mermaid bed?”

He nodded, moving to stand beside her and spreading out his own hands towards the fire.

Despite herself, Diana’s stomach fluttered at his proximity. Stop that , she warned herself. There will be no stomach fluttering. “I still hope to catch a glimpse of the ghost of this infamous mermaid,” she teased.

“Perhaps you shall. Heard any more footsteps in the night?”

“Sadly, no.”

“As the legend goes,” he said, eyes twinkling as he glanced at her, “ the Mermaid of Pendowar walks on two legs when she appears on dry land.”

“So I’ve heard.”

They shared a smile.

He glanced at his ward, who hummed as she investigated the woodworking projects on display across the room. The captain lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Emma looks happy.”

“I think she is,” Diana replied just as softly. “We’ve had a new development in her reading and writing.”

“What kind of development?”

Diana briefly told him what had happened at the beach and the progress Miss Fallbrook had made since.

“Do you mean to say that Emma can read now?”

“She finally understands the concept of reading now—the idea that letters make sounds and join in patterns to form words. There is still a disconnect at times between what is written and what she sees, but I believe she has finally started down the right path.”

“And this all came about by having her mold letters of the alphabet out of sand and clay?”

“It did. I don’t understand why—it is most unusual, I think. But we happened upon an activity that your cousin already enjoyed, and it helped her make the connection.”

He shook his head while grinning. “You more than happened upon it. It was a stroke of genius.”

Diana took a step back from the fire, suddenly growing too warm. “It is only the beginning,” she said, still whispering, “but Miss Fallbrook is starting to believe in herself now, which is so important.”

The captain stepped back to again stand beside her. “Since the day you arrived, I have felt… that is to say, I have known that Emma was in good hands. Thank you.”

He gave her a look so appreciative and full of admiration that Diana felt a blush bloom in her cheeks. “You’ re welcome.”

Lowering his head to hers, he whispered, “Would you like to see what I am making for Emma?”

“I would.”

Diana joined him at the workbench, where he covertly lifted a cloth and showed her his work in progress. It was a small, wooden box. The hinged lid was expertly carved with images of seashells. “For her keepsakes,” he whispered.

Diana was awed by his handiwork and touched that he was making his ward a gift. “It’s beautiful,” she returned discreetly. “When did you learn how to do this?”

“My father taught me. He learned from his father. And I whittled a lot at sea. It is a sailor’s second trade, you know.” He gave her a wink and a smile.

Despite herself, his nearness, and the expression on his face, made Diana’s insides quiver— again —and her heart beat double-time. She wanted to smack herself.

Was he flirting with her? If so, he was very good at it.

Had the captain given the same wink and smile to that lady in Naples, whom he had mentioned? Did he smile this way at every woman he met in all those ports of call? No doubt he was used to having ladies swoon at his feet.

Diana refused to swoon.

“How long have you been working on this?” she whispered, willing her pulse to resume its normal pace.

“Ever since you pointed out so diplomatically that I ought to pay more attention to my cousin.”

“I am sure Miss Fallbrook will love it.”

“I hope so.” He sighed. “I never know what to say to her.”

“That will come more easily with time.”

“I am afraid I made a dreadful mess of that picnic you worked so hard to plan.”

Diana recalled what her godmother had said about that affair. “ Perhaps it was not as well-planned as it might have been,” she acknowledged.

“I understood the thought behind it. I should have been more… open and accepting.”

“ I should have asked you and Miss Fallbrook what you might like to eat or do, rather than forcing my idea of a picnic upon you.”

He caught her eye. They shared a laugh. There, that’s better , Diana thought. Things had settled down between them to something more manageable, something resembling friendship.

He was about to say something when Miss Fallbrook called out to them from across the room, “What are you talking about?”

Diana felt her pupil’s eyes on her, as if silently questioning.

“Carpentry,” was the captain’s quick reply as he stowed the carved wooden box in a drawer.

Miss Fallbrook made her way to them, carrying a small, wooden figurine of an elephant. “William, did you make this?”

“Yes. Ages ago.”

“May I have it?”

“That old thing? It is not one of my best efforts.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

He went very still and then bowed his head. “Take it. It’s yours.”

“Thank you.” The young woman cradled the little elephant to her chest. Captain Fallbrook returned her smile. In that moment, Diana glimpsed a connection between the two that warmed her heart.

They decided, in time, to return to the house. Miss Fallbrook requested permission to go back on her own and flew off ahead of them.

“You said your father taught you woodworking,” Diana remarked as she and Captain Fallbrook headed down the path together. “I take it that was a hobby, since I recall you mentioning that he was a clergyman?”

“Yes. ‘The truest and most worthy occupation for a second son,’ he used to say.”

“The clergy is a noble profession. It is my brother’s entire life.”

“It was my father’s as well. He poured his energy into writing sermons and tending to his flock , as he called them. My mother was the perfect clergyman’s wife. As a boy, I used to accompany one or the other on their visits to our parishioners.”

That , Diana thought, must be where the captain developed his habit of assisting the less fortunate. “How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Twelve. They perished within days of each other from typhoid, which they contracted from a poor family in our village. How the scourge bypassed me, I shall never know.”

“It is difficult enough to lose one parent so young. But to lose both at once—it is unthinkable.”

“My uncle became my guardian. Within a fortnight, he arranged a commission for me in the Royal Navy.”

“So soon?”

“I had no wish to go to sea. I had hoped to enter my father’s profession. But that would have required further schooling and attending university. I suppose Uncle Thomas didn’t want to be bothered raising me. He just wanted me gone.”

“How cruel.”

“I felt that way for years. But in time, I was grateful.”

“Were you?”

“There is much to be said for a career in the Royal Navy. I love my occupation now and cannot imagine my life any other way.”

They emerged from the woods into an open space with gravel paths and manicured, dormant flower beds. Pendowar Hall rose majestically beyond, smoke escaping from the chimneys atop its grey, stone battlements.

“I too was thrust into a profession I did not expect,” Diana said as they navigated the final stretch together. She told him about the young man to whom she had been affianced, who had dropped her as a result of her father’s loss of fortune.

The captain’s features hardened. “What a cad. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I do not seek sympathy. I only wish to point out that like you, my life—and my sisters’ lives—changed suddenly and irrevocably into something we could not have imagined. Yet looking back, I have no regrets. I love my work.”

“Yet another of the many things we have in common, Miss Taylor.” He glanced at her. “Are your sisters in the same occupation?”

“They are.”

“I hope they enjoy it as much as you seem to?”

“Well, to be honest, although Athena and Selena love teaching, they have never been terribly fond of governessing. I don’t blame them. Every household is different. It can be a difficult and lonely life. For some years now, we have harbored higher aspirations.”

“Such as?”

“We dream of opening a school for girls.”

His brows lifted with interest. “A school for girls?”

“Yes. Such institutions are few and far between, and the curriculum at those that do exist leaves much to be desired. Girls are every bit as intelligent as boys! Why should the male of the species benefit from a wide and varied education, encompassing everything from science, mathematics, and literature to history, philosophy, and beyond, while the female is taught nothing but needlework, music, sketching, a smattering of foreign language, and deportment? It is a travesty!”

“You make a fair point,” the captain mused.

“If girls could only learn what boys do from a young age, think how it would expand their minds!” Diana declared passionately. “They could understand and participate more fully in the world. And someday, perhaps, the professions that men guard so assiduously will open to women and they won’t be stuck at home. But it must begin with education. Which is why my sisters and I dream so fervently about opening a girls’ school.”

“It is an admirable goal.”

“But an impossible one, I’m afraid.” Diana took a breath to calm herself. “For it would require a venue. Which is not within our means.”

They had reached the house now and paused. “Nothing is impossible, Miss Taylor. The word itself says: ‘I’m possible.’”

Diana laughed at that and, mimicking his earlier phrase, replied, “A fair point, sir.”

“Who knows? Your fortunes might change. For your and your sisters’ sakes, I hope they do,” he said as they shared a parting smile.

*

“You like my Cousin William, don’t you?”

Diana’s spoonful of ham and potato soup froze halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

It was another cold, blustery day, and they were having lunch in the nursery while Ivy stoked the fire.

“I mean, he likes you, and you like him.” Miss Fallbrook’s tone was serious, and her face solemn.

The remark caused a flush to creep up Diana’s throat. “Of course I like him. And I should be glad if Captain Fallbrook does not dislike me.”

“It is more than that. I saw the way you looked at him yesterday at the shop. And the way he looked at you.” Miss Fallbrook buttered a piece of bread. “You could not keep your eyes off each other.”

“I enjoy talking to the captain. We have become friends. But I am in his employ. A relationship between us would be inappropriate.”

“Yes,” agreed Miss Fallbrook, “but not because you work for him. I shouldn’t care about that. It would be wrong—inappropriate, as you say—because you are my governess . ”

“What is the distinction?”

Her pupil regarded her with pained disbelief. “Have you forgotten the Mermaid’s Curse?”

“Oh, that . Miss Fallbrook…”

“If you and William fall in love, you are both doomed!” Miss Fallbrook’s voice rang with concern.

Ivy rose from the hearth, her face alive with equal worry. “She’s right, miss. If you two fall in love, Morwenna will see to it that you die from drowning, and that the captain dies of grief.”

“I could not bear it if anything happened to you, Miss Taylor!”

“Calm yourselves, girls.” Diana struggled to hold back a smile. “I am happily single and intend to remain so. Anyway, the Mermaid’s Curse is just a legend.” As she said so, a remark in Athena’s last letter came back to her:

“All legends have a foundation in truth.”

Ivy shook her head, her face grave. “It’s more than a legend, miss. It has happened twice, and it could happen again.”

Miss Fallbrook gasped. “It almost did happen again. Yesterday! That hole on the cliff path. You might have fallen into the sea!”

“Don’t be silly,” Diana replied. But it was true. She had very nearly lost her balance and fallen to her death.

“It was Morwenna,” Ivy whispered.

Diana knew that no mermaid’s ghost was responsible for her near-accident. But was it possible that someone who’d known she’d been out for a walk that day had arranged the circumstances?

Mr. Emity’s warning came back to her again.

“If someone did murder Sir Thomas, they might not take kindly to the idea of someone looking into it.”

Had the PATH CLOSED sign truly been placed on the wrong side of the fork?

Or had someone deliberately moved it?

*

The clock in the hall had long since chimed the hour of two, but Diana couldn’t sleep.

The captain had spoken to Mr. Nankervis, who’d admitted that he’d set the warning sign on the cliff path. But hearing about Diana’s fall, he’d become upset and worried that he’d inadvertently put it in the wrong place.

Which, Diana realized, proved absolutely nothing.

Someone, aware that Diana was questioning the circumstances of Sir Thomas’s death, might have moved that sign after Mr. Nankervis had placed it, hoping to get rid of her. It was a frightening thought but not an impossible one. It had also put her pupil in danger.

Diana wrestled with this idea for some time before finally concluding that she was overthinking the matter. It had been pure chance that she and Miss Fallbrook had taken the path that day. Bad luck that Diana had stumbled, and nothing more.

Miss Fallbrook’s question from the day before, however, still rang in Diana’s ears, driving all thought of the cliff path incident from her mind.

“You like my Cousin William, don’t you?”

At their first meeting, Diana had been irritated by the captain’s attitude. He had viewed Diana’s position as a necessary evil and had written off his ward as a lost cause.

So much had changed since then. She now saw that he was a good and thoughtful man. The sort of man who sent palm trees from the Mediterranean to his uncle and fabric to needy tenants, who took care of the people on his estate and was struggling to improve his relationship with his young cousin. Diana and Captain Fallbrook had many things in common, from a love of reading and doing meaningful work to their desire to help the poor. She couldn’t help but like him.

But for Miss Fallbrook to think those feelings went anything beyond a calm and proper admiration —to even consider that Diana might like him in that way— it was unthinkable.

“I saw the way you looked at him yesterday at the shop. And the way he looked at you.”

She couldn’t deny the way her stomach had fluttered the day before when he had gazed at her. Or the way her heart had jolted at the mere touch of his hand. But these had been mere physical responses to his innate masculinity and charm. Hadn’t they?

It was true, the captain had looked at her several times with warmth, as if he’d thought her someone special. But what did that signify? Nothing. Diana’s history had taught her better. Men had never liked her for her . When the truth came out, they had always been after her money—or money they thought she possessed.

It was different with the captain. He was a wealthy man now. He wouldn’t care if Diana had a fortune. In fact, he knew that she did not. But he had no reason to care about Diana, either.

“A leopard doesn’t change his spots. When a man’s unmarried at thirty-two, it tells you something.”

Who was Captain Fallbrook really, deep within his soul? One day, he might discover that she was still sleuthing and send her packing. Or she might discover that he had been deceiving her from the start, keeping a secret like that of Mr. Heyer, the second beau who had left her soul in tatters, or one as nefarious as Mr. Rochester’s in Jane Eyre . If so, the truth would come out. The man behind the mask would be revealed. And when it happened, Diana would be ready, with her heart intact, unbroken.

Even if the captain were the rare exception to the rule—and truly the generous and personable man he appeared to be—it was no consolation. For according to reports, he was not the marrying sort .

And neither was she.

When he recovered his health—hopefully in a matter of months—he would return to his duties at sea. One day, when Miss Fallbrook had made sufficient progress with her reading, Diana would return to Derbyshire. Perhaps they would keep in touch by post—but she would probably never see either of them again.

This idea made her unaccountably sad. She quickly brushed it aside.

Often, new people came into one’s life for a moment and then moved on. It was the way of things. She and Captain Fallbrook could be friends, but nothing more. And it was just as well, considering the legend that loomed over this house.

The Mermaid’s Curse , Diana thought defiantly, will have to wait for another victim.

She had just rolled over in bed and taken a deep breath, willing herself to go to sleep, when two sounds made her freeze.

The creak of the door to the servants’ stairs.

And footsteps.

Diana sat up, her pulse thudding in her ears as the footfalls passed her doorway. She had only heard that sound once before, on her first night at Pendowar Hall. She wasn’t dreaming it. It wasn’t the wind. And it was no ghost. Someone with two very real legs and feet was traversing the halls again in the middle of the night.

Diana quickly lit a candle, threw on her dressing gown and, eschewing slippers, quietly opened her chamber door. The corridor was dark, but she heard footfalls moving fast at the far end of the corridor. Whoever it was had entered without benefit of candle—or else they had blown out the flame.

Diana followed as swiftly as she was able. Who could the intruder be? Was it a member of the household staff? Or had they gained entry via the passageway from Smuggler’s Cave?

Whoever it was, what did they want? Diana had wanted to mention her theory about the passageway to the captain, but he already knew of its existence and had dismissed her other suspicions so emphatically, she had seen no point in bringing up the subject until she had some kind of proof .

The carpet prickled Diana’s bare feet as she made her way down the hall past the gallery to the opposite wing. The blue parlor was dark and silent. The library was similarly empty.

As she approached Captain Fallbrook’s study, Diana thought she heard a noise. Was it coming from within that chamber or without? She entered. To her disappointment, the study was dark—but she detected the scent of a recently snuffed candle. She touched the candle on the desk. Its wick end was soft and warm.

Someone has just been here.

A slight chill infiltrated the room. One of the casement doors, she noticed, was slightly ajar. Had it been the perpetrator’s mode of exit? Diana slipped through the French doors onto the narrow balcony.

The night was cold and so dense with fog that not a star shone in the heavens. The balcony’s paving stones felt like ice as Diana crossed to the balustrade and gazed down. The walls below, she recalled, were covered in thick vines, but she could make nothing out in the fog. If someone were climbing down that way, they must indeed have been a ghost, for they made no sound.

Frustrated, Diana returned to the study. Who had been here at such an hour? What had they wanted? Her gaze turned to the desk, where she noticed folders and papers in disarray. Captain Fallbrook was generally neat and organized. Had the intruder been going through these documents when he’d heard her approach and fled with haste?

Curious, Diana set down her candlestick and glanced through the paperwork. She immediately recognized Sir Thomas’s handwriting from the letters she had reviewed previously. Several folders contained more early drafts of the baronet’s correspondence. As with Sir Thomas’s letters to the railway company in Germany, he must have rewritten these before sending because they included crossed-out words and ink splatters. They related to mundane matters: repairs for a tenant’s leaky roof, the sale of a horse, the requisition of a new set of clothes from a London tailor.

One letter, however, caught Diana’s eye. It was addressed to Mr. Jack Trenowden at Greenview Farm.

Pendowar Hall

24 May 1849

Mr. Trenowden,

As you have paid no rent these past four quarters and every letter my steward sent has remained unanswered, I am taking matters into my own hands. Despite your family’s long tenancy at Greenview Farm, I cannot go on ignoring the situation.

Consider this your final notice. The entire amount owed is due in full by 1 July of this year, or you must vacate the premises.

Yours,

Sir Thomas Fallbrook, Bart.

Diana stared at the letter, her heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest.

No wonder Mr. Trenowden had been so cold to Miss Fallbrook when they’d met. No wonder he held such a deep resentment towards the Fallbrook family. Several generations of his family had lived and worked at Greenview Farm. It was his home and livelihood. And Sir Thomas had been about to evict him.

Sir Thomas’s death had apparently granted the Trenowdens a reprieve since they still lived there.

Could this letter be a motive for murder?

Diana’s gaze fixed on four words in the first paragraph, and her breath caught in her throat.

“I cannot go on.”

The same four words that had comprised Sir Thomas’s suicide note.