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

Chapter Nineteen

D iana sipped her morning coffee, her thoughts drifting to the captain, as they so often did these days. She hoped his appointment with his physician had gone well, and that he’d received a good prognosis about his injured leg.

She wondered what he was doing right now. Having breakfast with a friend? Did he plan to visit a museum or gallery today? If so, which one? She hoped he was making the most of his stay in London. After all that he had been through, he deserved this time away.

Even so, she found herself counting the days until his return—another ten days to go. Diana’s heart felt heavy. The house felt so quiet without him.

Her last conversation with the captain still weighed on her mind. It pained her that she had upset him with her theories and suspicions. But she’d felt that she’d had no choice—and she still wondered if something foul was afoot.

When she’d spoken to Mr. Wainwright in the church courtyard on Sunday, she had, perhaps foolishly, shared with him her concerns about Sir Thomas’s death, in earshot of everyone who had attended services that day.

The doctor said that fall from the library ladder could have killed Diana—if not from internal injuries, she might have bled out on the floor if Ivy and Hester had not arrived in time and brought her around.

She had explained away her fall on the cliff path as bad luck. But what if it hadn’t been? And what about her “accident” in the library? Had someone staged it?

The maids’ jar of furniture polish had gone missing. Anyone, Diana reasoned, could have snuck into the house via Smuggler’s Cave, stolen that jar, and deliberately applied an extra coat of polish to the upper rungs of the ladder, making it extremely slippery—and dangerous.

For that to be true, and assuming she was the intended target of such an attack, the perpetrator would have had to know about Diana’s quest in the library. The only person she’d told had been Mr. Latimer. She’d asked him to keep that information to himself. But what if he hadn’t? Or if he had? Might he have been culpable? Or—had someone else observed her labors in the library? She’d been at it for several days, after all.

No, no, no . Once again, she was—as the captain would say—letting her imagination run wild. Accidents happened. She’d simply taken a misstep on that library ladder, that was all.

Diana rose and checked the clock on the schoolroom mantel. It was half-past nine. Lessons should have begun half an hour ago, but as usual, Miss Fallbrook was nowhere in sight.

Glancing out the window, she observed her pupil sitting on a bench, drawing. She looked blissfully engrossed. A lump rose to Diana’s throat. Miss Fallbrook was always happiest when engaged in an artistic pursuit.

Diana ventured outside and crossed the courtyard. Miss Fallbrook glanced up at Diana’s approach, slammed her sketchbook shut, and stood. “I’m sorry. I know I’m only supposed to draw on my own time.”

“May I see your sketchbook?” Diana asked.

The young woman’s cheeks went crimson. “Please don’t take it away.”

“I won’t. I’d just like to see what you’ve been drawing. ”

As Miss Fallbrook waited in silence, Diana studied each sketch with attention. She had seen some of them before but had only given them a quick perusal, and there were new additions: a spray of oak leaves and acorns. The white garden with its bubbling fountain. Waves crashing upon the shore. A stray cat on a wall.

Diana paid particular attention to the portraits, all of the people whom she recognized: Mr. Emity. Mrs. Gwynn. Ivy. Hester. Bessie, the kitchen maid. There were even portraits of Mr. Wainwright, Mrs. Trenowden, and a self-portrait of Miss Fallbrook. The drawings were all lifelike in their detail.

“When did you sketch these portraits?”

“At different times over the years. Sometimes, the subject sat for me. Other times, I drew from memory. I did the self-portrait before my looking glass.”

Miss Fallbrook’s face was still flushed with what seemed like guilt, a sight that caused a heat rise to Diana’s own cheeks. A comment in one of her godmother’s letters surfaced in Diana’s mind.

“Everyone, I believe, has a valuable and accurate inner guide. Let people think for themselves and make their own choices. Step back and listen more.”

When Diana had first read those lines, she hadn’t truly understood them. But now she did.

Miss Fallbrook loved to draw. Her progress in reading and writing had come about entirely through art. It was only with the best of intentions that Diana had removed drawing from their curriculum. But by insisting that art was less worthy of their time than the subjects she deemed to be important, had she squelched the girl’s creative outlet?

“Miss Fallbrook, I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“You have a gift for art. There may not be much I can teach you on the subject, but we will add it back to our course of study.”

“Oh, Miss Taylor!” Miss Fallbrook threw her arms around Diana. “Can we start now?”

Diana hugged her back. “Yes, we can.”

*

That moment marked a new beginning. Diana invented creative lessons that combined reading, writing, and art.

In addition to their exercises with clay and sand, she directed her pupil to draw the letters of the alphabet as illustrations. Miss Fallbrook threw herself into the activity with glee. A capital “A” became three blades of seaweed in formation. “B” the right half of a butterfly. “C” a curved caterpillar. Focusing on the sounds that letters made, Diana instructed Miss Fallbrook to string them together to form words, which she was able to read and write.

She encouraged Miss Fallbrook to dictate stories, which Diana transcribed and Miss Fallbrook illustrated. Afterwards, they read the story aloud together. With renewed confidence, Miss Fallbrook drew cartoons, adding captions. She still struggled with spelling, and words sometimes still appeared to the young woman in a scrambled order. But more often, she could make sense of them now.

The crowning glory was to be an activity for the captain’s return in a week’s time.

“I should like us—that is I should like you to spend more time together,” Diana said.

“Not another picnic,” Miss Fallbrook declared dubiously.

Diana laughed. “No. I hope I have learned a thing or two since then. If you could do anything with your cousin, what would it be?”

“Anything?”

“Within reason. Flying to Mars would be beyond my help.”

Miss Fallbrook’s brows drew together. “I suppose… I should like to go horseback riding with him on the beach.”

“What a lovely idea.” It was something Diana would never have thought of. “Anything else?”

“I have always wanted to draw his portrait.”

“You never have?”

Miss Fallbrook shook her head. “The last time William came home on leave, I was twelve. He treated me like a child. Then my stepmother and brother died…” Her face grew grim. “Last summer, right after he returned, my father died. Something bad always seems to happen when William comes home. And he was so badly injured himself, I didn’t dare to ask.”

“His health is greatly improved, I think, and these are both reasonable requests. I cannot guarantee he will sit for a portrait, but let us ask him, shall we, when he returns from town?”

Miss Fallbrook nodded. She bit her lip and glanced at her hands. “There is one more thing I should like to ask him, if I may?”

“Oh? What is that?”

Miss Fallbrook whispered her request in Diana’s ear. Diana smiled.

*

Diana was working on lesson plans in the schoolroom that evening when she heard some bustle downstairs. Was that Captain Fallbrook’s voice? It couldn’t be . He wasn’t due to return for another week.

She stood, her heart pounding in confusion, as the tread of boots echoed up the stairwell. She recognized that footfall. It was him. He was here! A sense of pure joy flooded her chest.

Diana struggled to gather her thoughts. What was it she had planned to say and do when she finally saw him again? She couldn’t remember. All at once, Captain Fallbrook strode into the schoolroom. He looked cold and dusty from travel, his brow was wrinkled, and he had circles under his eyes. He halted a few feet away, regarding her.

“Miss Taylor,” he barked. “How are you?”

“I am well, sir.” She had never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life. “How are you ?”

He waved an impatient hand, still studying her. “Fine, fine. You are well, then?”

“Yes. What are you doing here, Captain? I understood you were to be away another week.”

“I was. Emity wrote to say that you’d been in an accident in the library. You are certain that you’re well?”

It was the third time he’d posed the same question. “I am. I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t want anyone to disturb you. I hope you didn’t cut your trip short because of me?”

He hesitated, fidgeting with his hands. “No, no,” he said, glancing away, as if to avoid her eyes. “I had grown tired of town and was… ready to leave.”

Diana sensed that he was being less than truthful. To be back so soon, he couldn’t have spent more than a couple of days in London. To know that he had come back early because of her—her heart turned over at the thought. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I know it was a visit you had been looking forward to. Please don’t think twice about what happened in the library.”

“Emity said you fell from the ladder, hit your head, and required stitches?” His eyes were filled with worry.

“It was clumsy of me.”

“Have you suffered any headaches since? Lightheadedness? Or any other ill effects?

“No, sir, I am recovered.” Self-consciously, Diana’s hand went to her forehead, where her hair covered the wound.

“Are you?” He stepped closer and reached his own hand up towards the spot she was protecting. “Pray, allow me to see.”

“Captain, no,” Diana demurred. “It’s not a pretty sight—”

“I’ve seen more injuries on board ship than I can count, Miss Taylor,” he said, interrupting. “I won’t rest until I see for myself that the wound is healing. ”

His nearness set every nerve in her body atingle, a sensation that intensified when his fingers lightly brushed aside her hair and touched her forehead. Diana’s thoughts scattered as he made his assessment.

He nodded, as if satisfied. “Yes. It is healing quite well.”

Diana took a step back, her heart thumping like a runaway locomotive. “The doctor seems pleased with my progress.” She swallowed hard, adding hastily, “What about you? Did you see a physician in London?”

“I did.”

“What did he say?”

“That I should be well enough to return to duty in the spring.”

The idea of his departure from Pendowar Hall gave her a sharp pang. “I am relieved to hear it.”

“As was I.”

Diana struggled to rein in her racing pulse. “Did you get to see any sights, I hope, while in London, even though your visit was so short?”

“A few.” He shrugged. His gaze was full of warmth. “I’m happy to be back.”

I’m happy, too , she wanted to say. But before she could voice the words, he continued. “What were you looking for in the library, may I ask?”

Diana gave a little gasp. She had almost forgotten. “I’m so glad you asked. I have something to show you that I think may be of interest to you.” From a cupboard, Diana retrieved the three volumes she had finally found the night before and handed them to him. They were beautifully bound in brown leather with gilt edges and gold lettering on the spines.

He inhaled a sharp, elated breath. “ Ivanhoe ! Where on Earth was it?”

“Tucked in between an eleven-volume set of The Diary of Samuel Pepys , some travel books, and several volumes of English poetry.”

He flipped open the first volume, smiling. “It is just as I remembered it.”

“I hope the book gives you as much pleasure on the second reading as it did on the first.”

“I’m sure it will.” Gratitude lit his charismatic, blue eyes. “Thank you. I appreciate this more than words can say.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I can only imagine the effort that was required to find this. It is yet another example of your most salient quality, Miss Taylor.”

“What quality is that?”

“You have a good and kind heart.”

The expression on his face caused that heart to turn over in its chest. “So do you, Captain. Were our positions reversed, I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”

He took that in and laughed. “Would I, indeed?”

“I have heard of many kindnesses you’ve performed for the tenants on this estate.”

He took a step closer and spoke in a low tone. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Miss Taylor. I may be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” He stood so near that for the second time in as many minutes, Diana found it hard to think.

“My opinion stands,” she managed to say. “You cannot convince me otherwise.”

He grinned affectionately. “You see the good in people, Miss Taylor. I like that about you. And I like it that you see good in me.” Reaching up, he touched her cheek with gentle fingertips.

Once again, sparks shot through Diana’s body from this intimate contact. She found herself powerless to reply. Time seemed to be suspended as they gazed at each other. Did he intend to kiss her? Did she want him to?

Suddenly, his expression altered, as if thinking better of the situation. His hand left her cheek. He cleared his throat and took a few steps back. “I’m glad to see that you’re recovering from that fearful accident.”

“Thank you.” Regret streamed through her at the absence of his touch.

“Take greater care in the future, will you? That’s an order.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Diana’s heart continued to pound as she struggled to keep her face impassive.

He seemed to search for words. “How is… Emma faring?”

It was another reminder of a subject she needed to broach. “Well, sir. She looks forward to seeing you. In fact, she has made two requests of your time.”

He smiled, his eyebrows lifting. “Oh? What does Emma want?”

*

“Don’t look so serious, William,” complained Miss Fallbrook from behind her easel.

“I don’t believe in smiling for portraits.” Captain Fallbrook sat relaxed and complacent in the rear courtyard, with one arm draped lazily over the back of his bench.

Diana watched from a nearby chair. Could it only have been two days since their encounter in the schoolroom? She willed herself to draw a curtain over it. Stop thinking of the captain in a romantic light . Just because his touch had made her pulse race, it didn’t mean she wanted him in that way. Based on his reaction to their almost-kiss, he apparently felt the same. They were friends. It was all they could be, and it was enough.

“I can give you a mysterious glint in the eye if you like.” He fixed the artist with a look so comical, it sent Miss Fallbrook into a fit of giggles. Diana couldn’t help but smile.

The previous day, her pupil and Captain Fallbrook had returned from their horseback ride on the beach in high spirits. It had pleased Diana to observe the interaction between the two, which had evolved in a most natural way into something rather sweet.

Diana tilted her head back to catch the sun on her face. In Athena’s latest letter, she had mentioned snow showers and ice storms in Yorkshire. Yet here in Cornwall, it was a bright-blue December day, the temperature reminiscent of early autumn. “I can’t believe Christmas is only twelve days away,” she remarked.

Miss Fallbrook paused, rolling her pencil between her fingers. “William, may we have a party on Christmas Day?”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “A party? Whatever for?”

“We used to have a party every year. Papa liked it when we decorated the house, and it was the only day of the year, other than my birthday, when I was allowed to dine downstairs. We had presents in the drawing room after breakfast and Papa invited a few friends over for dinner. It was heavenly! But ever since my stepmother and Robert died, Papa wouldn’t celebrate Christmas at all.”

The captain frowned. “There isn’t much time to plan a party.”

“I can help. Please?” Miss Fallbrook leaned forward and seemed to be holding her breath.

“I shall discuss it with Emity and Mrs. Gwynn and see what we can do.”

“Oh, thank you!” Miss Fallbrook’s delight shone like a beacon.

“Captain,” Diana ventured. “There is one more thing Miss Fallbrook has been wanting to ask you.” She gave her pupil an encouraging smile.

The words burst from Miss Fallbrook’s throat, as if she’d been holding them back for ages. “May I have a new gown?”

The captain studied her, rubbing his chin. “What’s wrong with what you’ve got on?”

“I’ve worn black for nearly seven months now. It is time for third-stage mourning. It’s permissible for you to wear other colors as well, William. And I should so love to wear a white gown at Christmas.”

He hesitated, his glance darting to Diana, his raised eyebrows requesting confirmation. Diana, pleased that he valued her opinion, gave him a subtle nod.

He gruffly replied to his cousin, “All right then. A new white gown it is. I presume there’s a dressmaker in the village?”

“Yes! Of course there is!” Miss Fallbrook leapt up from her stool, crossed to the captain’s side in three quick strides, and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you!” she cried again. “Thank you so much!”

Captain Fallbrook’s cheeks grew rosy as he gently patted his cousin’s back. “Don’t thank me. Thank the poor woman who has only twelve days to make you a brand-new gown.”

Miss Fallbrook laughed, and Diana, her heart warmed by the burgeoning closeness between these two, couldn’t help but join in.

*

As the days ticked by until the holiday, the house was abuzz with plans. Mrs. Gwynn was tasked to plan a small dinner party for Christmas Day. Captain Fallbrook, Diana had learned, had arranged to have baskets of food sent to every tenant on the estate. On Christmas morning, Miss Fallbrook and the captain were to exchange gifts, another treat.

There was trouble, however, in paradise.

“This is the most boring present in the world,” Miss Fallbrook moaned as she and Diana sat over their needlework one morning.

They were hemming handkerchiefs. Diana had thought them sensible gifts for her pupil, Captain Fallbrook, and the staff. “What is on your wish list?” Diana asked.

“I don’t have a wish list. If I receive a gift, I should rather be surprised.”

Diana pondered as she stitched. An idea came to mind for a different gift for Miss Fallbrook. Hopefully, she could find the items in a village shop and the cost wouldn’t exceed the money she’d saved from her earnings to date. Captain Fallbrook presented a greater challenge. “What do you think the captain would like, if not a handkerchief?”

“I don’t know. Can you help me think of something?”

Diana recalled a remark he had once made, and a notion presented itself. It would be an unusual gift—but it might suit him perfectly.

If she could find one.

*

Christmas Eve dawned cold and bright.

The house had been cleaned from top to bottom. A team of farmhands brought in an enormous, freshly cut yule log and established it in the drawing room hearth. Deliveries arrived from the butcher, fishmonger, and grocer, and the kitchen was busy preparing a feast. Diana and her charge helped the maids to decorate the house with boughs and garlands of local evergreens, holly, ivy, hellebore, and rosemary, adding ribbons and bows in festive colors. That afternoon, they wrapped gifts.

Miss Fallbrook had been enthused by Diana’s idea for the captain’s Christmas gift. Diana had found a retired sailor in the village who’d possessed the exact item they’d required. When she’d explained its intended recipient, the man had refused payment, insisted on remaining anonymous, and quietly delivered it in the same wooden trunk in which it had been stored. Diana and her pupil had just begun to wrap a ribbon around the trunk when Captain Fallbrook unexpectedly appeared in the schoolroom doorway.

“Forgive me for intruding. May I have a word, Miss Taylor?”

Diana and Miss Fallbrook faced him in a united effort to hide the trunk from view. “Yes, Captain?”

So focused was he on his errand, he didn’t seem to notice their apprehension. “It’s about Christmas dinner.” He stood straight and tall, hands clasped behind his back, addressing them as he might the crew on board his ship. “It’s going to be a small affair, but I need more ladies at the table. I should be gratified, Miss Taylor, if you would join us.”

Diana’s breath hitched. “It is not customary for a governess to—”

“I don’t care what is customary.”

“What will your guests think?”

“They will think what I tell them to think.”

“I appreciate your invitation, Captain, but—”

“It is not an invitation. It is an order . I will thank you to follow it.” He started for the door, then turned back. “One more thing. Emma: didn’t you say you always had breakfast downstairs on Christmas morning?”

“Yes.” Miss Fallbrook’s single word resounded with hope.

“I shall see you in the morning room tomorrow at nine A.M. sharp. Miss Taylor, you will accompany her. That is all.”