Page 56 of A Land So Wide
1761 had been a Hunt year, the one Greer was first meant to have been in. Who had caught Agnes? Greer ticked through as many of the Hunters as she could remember, but each had found some other bride. Agnes had not been found. Agnes had not been caught.
So where was she now?
As Greer tried to wrestle memories from that murky, grief-shroudedyear, she turned the page and caught sight of the list’s final entry. Everything within her stopped.
1768: Ellis Beaufort.
She studied the curls and loops of her beloved’s name, jotted down in Hessel’s familiar hand.
Ellis Beaufort.
Why would her father have written his name? What did this list account for?
Catriona and Agnes are gone, and now Ellis is, too.
Greer looked from the book to the pile of jewelry, trying to piece it all together. They were connected somehow, but she was too exhausted to see it. She rubbed at her aching forehead, and as her hand fell away, the memory came to her.
In the clearing, as he’d waved farewell, Ellis’s wrist had glinted, a flickering of light she’d ignored at the time because she’d been so intent on catching his eye. But there had been a telltale flash of red. She was sure of it.
Ellis had been wearing one of these bracelets.
She let this idea sink in, mulling over its implications.
Ellis had been wearing one of these bracelets when he’d crossed over the boundary line, after sunset, and the Warding Stones had not brought him back.
Hessel had a whole box of these bracelets in his study, secreted away with a list of missing people. A list of missing girls, then Ellis.
Which meant…
“Oh, Father,” she whispered. “What have you done?”
17
By the timeHessel returned to the study, bringing Greer a tray of food, pale-gray light had begun to brighten the horizon.
Greer had already returned everything, tucking the box back into its hidden drawer.
Everything but one piece of jewelry.
She’d selected a necklace, hiding it beneath her dress and sweater. The cord was long, and the beads hung between her breasts, a cold mass that felt uncomfortably present against her bare skin. Greer had the terrible notion that the flickering might shine through her layers of wool.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” Hessel said, setting down the tray of cold cuts of smoked venison, a hunk of bread slathered with too much butter, and a mug of cider. She noted he hadn’t brought a knife or fork.
Greer reclined in the great leather chair behind the desk, her legs kicked irreverently over one arm. Hessel remained standing, clearly waiting for her to leave the chair, but she stayed put, eyes fixed on the partially open door. Had his hands truly been so full, or was this an attempt to see if she’d run?
After a beat, Hessel took the smaller chair. “You don’t look likeyou’ve slept at all,” he continued, as if this had been his intended arrangement all along.
She remained silent.
“You should try to rest before the ceremony.” Hessel cleared his throat, unnerved by her stillness. Greer had never seen him so disquieted before, so eager to fill a void. “For what it’s worth…I am sorry about the boy, Greer. It’s a terrible loss for his family.” Hessel sighed. “And for you, I suppose…in this moment. But you’ll see. Things like this always happen for a reason.” He nodded, and she wasn’t sure whom he was assuring. “For a good reason.”
Anger simmered just below her sternum, radiating down her limbs, and she had to press her arms tightly to her chest to keep from lashing out. “For the good of the town?” Greer scoffed.
Hessel’s eyes brightened, until he noticed her sarcasm. “You don’t see it now, but yes.”
Greer sat up, placing her feet on the ground as she leaned toward her father. “Why wasn’t Louise at the Hunt?”
It was Hessel’s turn to fall silent.
