Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“Idon’t think we should be doing this, Rosalie.”
Fifteen-year-old Leah Rothburn stood at the edge of the lake in her nightgown, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at the large rocks jutting out into the dark water.
Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, but the water still looked forbiddingly cold.
“Don’t be such a ninny,” Rosalie called from where she stood balanced on the farthest rock, her own nightgown dripping wet and clinging to her legs. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ve done it dozens of times.”
“That doesn’t make it a good idea,” Leah muttered, but she was already hiking up her hem and wading into the shallows.
Twelve-year-old Melanie bounced on her toes with excitement, her dark curls wild from sleep. “Show us again, Rosalie! Show us how you did that turn in the air!”
“It’s called a somersault, you goose,” Rosalie laughed, shaking water from her hair. “And it’s not that difficult once you know the trick. Watch!”
She backed up several steps on the flat surface of the rock then ran forward and launched herself into the air, tucking her knees to her chest before straightening out to land in the water with a tremendous splash.
“Magnificent!” Melanie clapped her hands together. “I want to try!”
“Melanie, you can barely swim properly yet,” Leah protested though she was already making her way carefully across the first few rocks. “What if you hit your head? What if you can’t get back to the surface?”
“Then you’ll fish me out,” Melanie said with the supreme confidence of a child who’d never truly been in danger. “Won’t you, Leah?”
That’s exactly the problem, Leah thought, but she didn’t voice her concerns. Rosalie would just call her a coward again, and Melanie would pout for the rest of the day.
Sometimes, being the middle sister was absolutely miserable.
“The water’s not that deep,” Rosalie said, swimming back to the rocks with easy strokes. “And I checked for rocks underneath yesterday. It’s perfectly safe.”
“You checked yesterday?” Leah paused halfway across a particularly slippery stone. “You mean you’ve been planning this? Your arm just healed!”
“Of course, I’ve been planning this.” Rosalie hauled herself back onto the rocks, water streaming from her sodden nightgown. “And yes, this is the perfect time to do this when I’m healed. Do you think I’m completely reckless?”
Yes, Leah thought, but didn’t say. I think you’re exactly like Mother, and that terrifies me.
She’d been too young when their mother died to remember much, but she remembered the arguments. The way Papa’s voice would get that tight, controlled tone when Mama suggested some new adventure. The way Mama would laugh and call him stuffy then do whatever she’d wanted anyway.
Is that what we’re doing? Becoming like her?
“Come on, Leah!” Melanie had somehow managed to reach the second rock without falling in though she was wobbling precariously. “Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud!”
“I’m not a stick-in-the-mud,” Leah protested though she was beginning to think she was the only one with any sense. “I’m being careful.”
“Careful is boring,” Rosalie declared, wringing out her hair. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? We get wet? We’re already wet!”
The worst that could happen is we drown, Leah thought grimly. Or break our necks. Or Papa finds out and sends us all to a convent.
But she continued making her way across the rocks anyway because the alternative was standing alone on the shore while her sisters had all the fun.
“Now, the key is to jump with confidence,” Rosalie was instructing Melanie, who had somehow managed to reach the jumping rock despite her questionable swimming abilities. “Don’t hesitate, don’t second-guess yourself. Just run and leap.”
“What if I don’t jump far enough?” Melanie asked, peering down at the water with sudden uncertainty.
“Then you’ll land in shallow water instead of deep water,” Rosalie said dismissively. “Either way, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Trust me. The words sent a chill down Leah’s spine that had nothing to do with the morning air.
How many times had their mother said those exact words before doing something spectacularly ill-advised?
“Rosalie,” she said carefully, “perhaps we should start with smaller jumps? Work our way up to the big rock?”
“Nonsense. The big rock is the whole point.” Rosalie moved behind Melanie, her hands on their youngest sister’s shoulders. “Besides, Melanie’s not afraid, are you, Mel?”
“Of course not!” Melanie declared though her voice was a bit higher than usual. “I’m not afraid of anything!”
That’s exactly the problem.
“Good girl.” Rosalie stepped back, giving Melanie room to run. “Now remember—confidence is key. Don’t think, just jump.”
‘Don’t think.’ That could be the Rothburn family motto, Leah reflected sourly.
Melanie backed up to the far edge of the rock, her small face set in determined lines. She looked so young standing there in her white nightgown, her dark hair streaming behind her like a banner.
She looks like an angel, Leah thought with sudden, inexplicable dread. She looks like…
“Wait!” The word burst from her lips before she could stop it. “Melanie, wait!”
But Melanie was already running, her bare feet slapping against the wet stone as she built up speed. For a moment, she looked like she might actually make it—her form was decent, her trajectory promising.
Then her foot hit a patch of moss-slick stone, and everything went wrong.
“Melanie!”
Leah’s scream echoed across the water as their youngest sister windmilled her arms frantically, trying to regain her balance. For one horrible moment, she teetered on the edge of the rock, her eyes wide with terror.
Then she fell.
Not into the deep water where she might have had a chance but sideways, toward the cluster of smaller rocks that jutted up like teeth from the lake’s surface.
The splash was smaller than it should have been.
More ominous.
“Melanie!” Rosalie was already diving, her form perfect even in panic. She hit the water and disappeared beneath the surface, leaving Leah alone on the rocks with her heart hammering against her ribs.
She’s hurt. Oh God, she’s hurt, and it’s all our fault.
Seconds stretched like hours before Rosalie’s head broke the surface, Melanie’s limp form clutched against her chest.
“She’s unconscious!” Rosalie gasped, treading water with obvious difficulty. “I can’t—the rocks are too slippery—I can’t get her out!”
Papa. We need Papa.
But Papa was probably still in his study with his morning correspondence, too far away to hear them scream. By the time anyone found them…
“Leah!” Rosalie’s voice was edged with panic now. “I need help! I can’t hold her up much longer!”
Think. Think, you stupid girl.
Leah looked around frantically, assessing their options. The shore was too far away, the rocks too treacherous to navigate quickly while carrying an unconscious child.
But there—running along the path from the direction of the stables—a familiar figure in riding clothes.
“Papa!” Leah screamed with every ounce of breath in her lungs. “Papa, help us!”
Hugo froze at the sound of his daughter’s voice carrying across the morning air, raw with terror and desperation. He’d been heading to the stables for his usual dawn ride when the cry reached him.
“Melanie!” He heard the scream of terror from his middle daughter.
Please tell me they’re not doing what I think they’re doing.
He broke into a run, his boots crunching on the gravel path as he made his way through the ornamental gardens toward the water. But instead of laughter and splashing, he could hear something that made his blood run cold.
Screaming.
Real, genuine, terrified screaming.
God help me, they’re going to be the death of me.
The scene that greeted him when he crested the small hill overlooking the lake was exactly what he’d feared.
One of his daughters stood on the large rocks that jutted out into the water, still in her nightgown and bare feet, dripping wet and looking like she’d faint.
Two of them were in the waters, one unconscious and the other unable to get to shore.
Christ!
Hugo didn’t remember diving into the lake. One second, he was standing on the bank fully clothed, and the next, he was thrashing through the cold water toward where his daughters were.
Please let her be all right. Please let her be—
He got to them quickly, thank God, where they were flailing with their nightgowns tangled around their legs. With a burst of strength he didn’t expect, he grabbed both of them and started swimming back, frantic.
Suddenly, Melanie came too, sputtering and gasping when he hauled her against his chest, her small hands clinging to his jacket with desperate strength.
Rosalie gasped, “Melanie!”
“I’ve got you,” he said roughly, treading water as he held them close. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
“Papa?” Melanie’s voice was small and scared, nothing like the confident little imp who’d been jumping rocks moments before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He began swimming toward the shore, both their weight making his movements slow but manageable. “Just hold on to me.”
By the time they reached the shallows, Leah was waiting anxiously on the bank, her face pale with shock. The reality of what could have happened—what had nearly happened—was written clearly across her features.
“Rosalie Emilia Rothburn!” His voice cracked across the morning like a whip the moment they got out as Melanie sat weakly on the ground. “What in God’s name do you think you were doing?”
All three girls spun toward him, their faces shifting from fear to guilt in the span of a heartbeat. But it was Rosalie who stepped forward, her chin lifting with that stubborn defiance that reminded him painfully of himself at that age.
“We were practicing, Papa,” she said, as though jumping into a lake at dawn was the most reasonable activity imaginable.