Page 14 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

But Jory and the others weren’t too keen on boarding the ship once again. Tobin turned back to her, plastering on a wide smile.

“Don’t ye be worrying about that, miss. It’s for Mr. Rinaldi to worry about.”

She clutched her elbows tighter, hugging herself. “Yes, of course. You’re right. Tell my father Emmaline and I will meet him at the inn.”

“My pleasure, miss.” He tipped his well-worn hat to her. “I’ll let him know soon as I see him.”

With her heart in her throat, she turned back to the wharf. A sort of numbness took residence in her as she walked across the planks, thinking of the strange whispering from the book and the odd shadowy apparition. Were they connected? She wasn’t sure. All she knew for sure was she had to get back to the inn and collect her things. The book included.

Chapter 6

Laterthatday,she,Emmaline and her father boarded the train to Driftbell. Emmaline had a dreamy look about her as she, no doubt, continued to think about Lord Vincent. There would be time later to query her about how things went when they visited the food stalls together. Her curiosity was definitely piqued.

Her father shuffled through papers, a pinched expression of worry on his face. He had mentioned nothing that happened at the ship, but he was unsettled that something dreadful happened to one of the crew. She was too cowardly to ask. She clutched the book, holding it in her lap, fearful of opening the pages and perusing them once again. And so, they rode in silence.

By late evening, they arrived at the train station. Bella was relieved to see Gerald had sent along the horse and carriage with a driver and footman. Another bumpy ride later and they would arrive to the place she hadn’t seen in years.

The carriage wheels crunched over gravel, the lanterns flickering as they bumped along the winding country road casting halos of light dancing across hedgerows. Road dust smudged the glass planes, but the warm glow offered a small circle of brightness in the puddle of darkness.

They slowed as the iron gates creaked open, welcoming them into the yawning abyss of night. Beyond the trees, Hawthorne Hall rose from the mist like a memory half-remembered—larger than she recalled, and lonelier, too. Moonlight caught on the old wood façade, casting long shadows across ivy-covered walls and shuttered windows that stared back like melancholy eyes.

Her father gathered his papers as the driver slowed the carriage to a halt and moments later, the door opened. Her father was out first, tucking his leather folio under his arm. When he was on the ground, he turned back and offered her his hand.

Grasping it, she stepped out of the carriage and tilted her head back, trying to reconcile the childhood image in her mind with the darkened silhouette before her. The front doors loomed tall and weathered, their iron fixtures dulled with rust. Somewhere within, the house creaked—settling or perhaps remembering her.

She swallowed hard. Next to her, Emmaline peered up at the imposing structure with wide eyes. A flagstone path lead to the front of the old house. They had bought it years ago when it was shiny and new but now it appeared time and age and neglect had taken its toll. The shutters were faded, the paint peeling. The wood exterior needed new paint to brighten it from the dreary gray.

The air smelled of damp earth and wild roses, overgrown and untamed. The once-proud hedgerows had grown thick with brambles, and the old fountain at the center of the circular drive stood silent, its basin choked with leaves.

The driver detached one of the lanterns, the flicking flame dancing within the glass and led the way to the front door. As they approached, it opened casting Gerald in a slash of light as he waited for them to make their way inside. It was a comfort to see the old butler there.

“Mind your step, ladies. I daresay the place is wildly overgrown. I can see I need a groundskeeper straightaway.” Her father paused in front of the butler. “Thank you, Gerald. Is the house in good order?”

But this was no mere house. This was a manor. And much larger than she remembered.

“Of course, my lord.”

The butler stood aside from the heavy oak door allowing them entry. Her father entered first, moving deeper into the foyer. Bella paused inside the doorway to take in all the sights of the house.

Before her, the staircase led to the upper floors where the bedrooms were. On the left, the parlor. The right, the dining room and beyond that the kitchen. Another room behind the stairs, she recalled, was her father’s office and library.

The furniture was uncovered, ready to welcome them once again to Hawthorne Hall. Through the open parlor door, she saw the loveseat the color of mint and two chairs, a low table between them. She remembered with some clarity her mother sitting on that sofa combing her hair and telling her stories of the high seas when she traveled with her father to distant lands to buy satin and lace.

“Well,” her father said, his voice loud in the silence. “Good to see things are as we left it.”

“Several packages arrived for the ladies, my lord,” Gerald announced from his place by the front door. “I had them put in your room, miss.”

Surprise flickered through her. “They did?”

“A courier delivered them late this afternoon on behalf of Lord Vincent,” Gerald said.

“Very kind of him,” her father said. “Once we’re settled, we should invite him for dinner to thank him properly.”

Behind her, Emmaline sucked in a breath. Bella nodded.

“Yes, of course, Father. Thank you, Gerald, for seeing to our things.”

He gave a nod of acknowledgment.

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