Chapter Three
With her mother out to tea with her dearest friend, Theodosia entered Belinda’s bedroom in search of a necklace that would go with the gown she had chosen for the day. The string of freshwater pearls her mother owned would fit perfectly.
She searched the jewelry box that held the pieces her mother wore most often and not finding the pearls there, she moved onto her mother’s armoire.
Normally, she would not invade her mother’s privacy as such, but since she was gone, Theodosia had no choice.
She rummaged through the jewelry and frowned when her fingers brushed over paper.
She paused, confused to feel paper since she expected only jewelry to be stored in the armoire.
Looking to see what was there, she found a bound stack of envelopes.
Her interest piqued, she guiltily glanced around the room to ensure she was alone and withdrew the stack. Immediately, she recognized the bold, beautiful handwriting.
Ellis.
These were not letters she had received. She knew this because she had every letter and note he had sent her stowed safely away in a drawer of her desk in her own room.
The envelopes were torn open. Haphazardly, not in the same way she carefully opened the envelopes to preserve their integrity.
Someone had read the letters. Someone that wasn’t her had read the words meant only for her from Ellis.
Private words. She thought back to the plans they had made.
To the letters she was supposed to receive, but never had, leading her to believe that he had a change of mind.
Were these those letters?
Untying the knot that bound the letters together, she sat down on the chaise and read the words that Ellis had promised to send.
Words that had been kept from her.
Purposely.
At first, tears flowed as she read Ellis’s professed feelings.
His eternal love for her and his vision for their future.
Her heart felt as if it had been pulled from her chest, thrown on the floor, and stomped upon.
Tears ran down her cheeks as everything she had believed crumbled down around her.
No, everything she had been led to believe.
Ellis had loved her. As much as she loved him.
Soon, the tears were replaced with anger.
This was her parents’ doing. They had intercepted these letters. Read them. Kept them from her, letting Ellis believe she had changed her mind. Just as they had made her feel that Ellis had abandoned her.
Rage consumed her realizing what her parents had done. They’d stolen her future. All those weeks she had mourned when her mother had consoled her, saying it wasn’t meant to be, when she knew exactly what had happened. When she was a part of it.
She swiped angry tears from her cheeks and gathered the letters. Slamming the door to the armoire, she rushed from her mother’s room and back to her own, the string of pearls all but forgotten.
Opting to take supper in her room that evening, she gave her parents no reason and refused to see her mother when she knocked, having Lucy make up an excuse. Belinda had pushed back, but Lucy held strong and denied her entry.
Over and over again, her parents’ lies circled around in her head. Repeating, and each time, Theodosia’s anger grew.
How could they?
They knew how much Ellis meant to her. Had they learned of their planned elopement? After intercepting his letters they certainly knew, but had they any idea before then?
Theodosia shook her head. No, they would have had no way of knowing. She and Ellis had made a point to mention it to no one. She had not even told Clementine.
She couldn’t believe that her parents would steal a future of happiness and love from her.
Why?
“Lucy, I feel the need for fresh air. Braggdon Hall feels too stuffy,” Theodosia announced, standing and brushing the wrinkles from her gown.
Her maid nodded. “Where shall we go?”
Theodosia shook her head. “I would like you to remain here. I would like to be alone.”
Lucy’s gaze darted to the windows. “The night is darkening.”
Grabbing her cloak, Theodosia smiled. “I know. I will be fine. I just need this time outside of Braggdon’s walls.”
“I understand.,” Lucy said, though her look did not convey such understanding. “Please take heed. I will ensure your absence is not known.”
Theodosia smiled her thanks and slipped out the door.
She knew her parents would be in her mother’s parlor, sipping sherry, and speaking of the day’s events.
To avoid their attention, she left through the back entrance, and without realizing where she was going, found herself on the outskirts of the moors.
She and Ellis had spent many hours walking these streets.
Memories of their time together came flooding back and that familiar longing, the one she always felt when they were separated, returned.
It had taken her months to fight that feeling.
It wasn’t that long ago that she’d finally been successful. Oh, how things could change so quickly.
A thick fog began to slowly creep in from the moors, swirling around her ankles where she could no longer see her boots. Clutching her cloak tighter, she quickened her pace. Perhaps it wasn’t her best idea to come out here alone.
A shrill scream rent the air and Theodosia snapped her head in the direction of the sound. Squinting her eyes into the dark, she couldn’t see anyone.
“H-hello?” she called out, not sure she wanted to receive an answer. The screaming continued, but the streets remained empty. The fog grew thicker and she felt like she was being swallowed into an abyss of clouds.
As quickly as the screaming had started, it stopped, and she swore she could hear the heavy clip-clop of hooves.
Thalia.
The name popped into her head as a shiver of fear ran down her spine.
Without another moment’s hesitation, Theodosia fled for home. The villagers claimed that Thalia Bragg, a distant relative, haunted the moors, along with the ghost of Lover’s Crossing.
Theodosia was not about to stay any longer and “meet” the woman, or worse yet, the headless ghost.
She ran as fast as she could, the force of each step reverberating up through her feet and legs.
As quietly as she could, she slipped into the house and returned to her bedroom.
Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest, it was beating so fast. On the morrow she would assess the family records and look for information on Thalia.
She hadn’t given much attention to the tale before, as she thought it was just that—a tale. But those screams she heard were very, very real. The fog. The hooves. She shuddered. Maybe she should have paid heed to the tales.
The next morn, as Theodosia silently broke her fast, her mother chattered on incessantly as she usually did.
But today, Theodosia found her most irritating.
It would take a long time before she could forgive her parents for what they had done.
Luckily, her father had left early to go to the shipyard so she didn’t have to see him.
Not surprisingly, her mother was oblivious that Theodosia wasn’t engaging in any of her conversations.
“Mama,” Theodosia finally spoke. “Do you know where our family records book is?”
Belinda frowned. “Whatever would you want with that old thing?”
“I was just curious. It has been some time since I’ve read it.” She tried to answer nonchalantly.
“I believe it is in the library. I haven’t browsed it in years, but that is the last place I saw it. I can’t imagine it would have been moved from there.”
Theodosia stood. “Thank you.”
“Finish your toast, Theodosia.”
“I find myself no longer hungry.”
Not waiting for her mother to remark, she left the dining room and went in search of the book in the library.
She found it buried under a stack of old periodicals. The tome was heavy as she carried it to the desk and began to flip the pages looking for any mention of Thalia.
When Theodosia finally came across the name she sought, she was on the verge of giving up.
The family annals made for very dry reading.
But, she had finally found Thalia. The woman that stared back at her could have been her twin, their looks were so similar.
Her eyes widened as she read how the young woman was embroiled in a forbidden love.
She and her lover were from feuding families and both had been ordered to stay away from one another.
But their pull was too strong and they made plans to elope.
Theodosia paused, recognizing the similarities in their stories.
Though, the Gordons and Braggs weren’t feuding families.
Theodosia was quite certain the families had never crossed paths.
Instead, she believed her parent’s issues with Ellis were rooted in the fact that he was Scottish.
“Barbarians,” her mother would say, even in today’s refined world.
Her father would just shake his head and mumble about them needing to stay in the north where they belong.
Thedosia read on. One night Thalia crept out of the house to meet with her lover. Theodosia found it odd that there was no mention of the name of Thalia’s lover. Supposedly that was the night they were to elope.
Instead, they were met by the ghost of Lover’s Crossing.
Theodosia inhaled sharply as her ancestor’s history unfolded before her eyes.
Confronted by the ghost, they pled for mercy.
When the apparition commanded they part from each other or face the consequences, in fear for their lives, they did.
With a mighty swing, the phantom brought down his sword and beheaded Thalia’s lover.
She screamed and screamed at what she had witnessed, then ran.
Thalia was never seen alive after that night.
Her body was found on the rocky shore the next morn.
Rumors swirled that she had met an untimely end and walked the moors searching for her lost love—sometimes crying, sometimes screaming.
The story intrigued and terrified her at the same time.
But something didn’t sit right with Theodosia.
If Thalia had been killed or had taken her own life that night, then how would anyone know the details to record them?
If the ghost demanded they part, and they had, then why would he then kill them?
Was it a test of the strength of their love? She finished the last line on the page.
On the moors of Yorkshire, young lovers beware.
What did that mean? It seemed like a dire warning to Theodosia. She turned the page to find a drawing of Thalia’s lover and her breath hitched. The portrait was almost the exact profile of Ellis.
“How?” she whispered. Then she noticed her mother’s handwriting in the margins. She shifted the book so she could read what the inscription said.
“The Bragg Curse lives in autumn.” It was clearly her mother’s handwriting. Was she lying about having not seen the book in years?
Quickly, she closed the tome and tried to calm her breathing.
She had to find Ellis and speak to him. She needed to know the truth about his letters and make him aware of what she had uncovered.