Page 42 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
Edward glanced around. Lord Redditch hadn’t been exaggerating when he said the battlements were crumbling; there was even a gap you had to jump. He didn’t like the idea of Elissa going up there without someone to show her the hazards.
But up top, they would be out of view of the party. Elissa needed a chaperone, but he hated to ask Mrs. Gorten, who was absorbed in conversation with Anne.
He nudged his little sister. “Lucy, Miss Elissa wants a look around the battlements. Climb up with us, won’t you?”
A look of panic crossed Lucy’s face. Her eyes flew to their mother, and then back at Edward. “Oh, I couldn’t. I’m, um—so exhausted from the walk!”
Edward frowned, as one minute ago, Lucy had been bouncing around the meadow picking flowers. But he turned to Isabella. “How about you, Izzie?”
“Beg pardon, brother, but I find myself swept away by the atmosphere.” She gestured to the verdant meadow. “I am envisioning a scene for my latest manuscript. I must memorize every detail before it slips away.”
Edward frowned at the brilliant blue sky. Isabella’s tastes ran to the macabre, and he was hard-pressed to recall a single scene she had written that did not take place on a dark and stormy night. “Is it not a bit… cheerful?”
“Precisely,” she said in a rush. “The effervescence of the scene will make the discovery of Count Augusto’s decapitated body all the more jarring.”
“Er—right.” As Edward turned to find another sister, he caught Mr. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy trying to hide a smile by sipping from his lemonade. “Caro, how about you? I daresay it’s been a few years since you’ve been up.”
“I’m sorry, Edward, but I couldn’t possibly go up in this dress,” she said, fingering her skirts. “It’s my favorite.”
“I’ve actually never been inside,” Thetford said, rising to his feet. “I’d quite like a look around.”
“Of course, darling,” Caro said. “But not just now.”
“I’m sure we won’t get a finer day than this,” Thetford replied. “Come on, Ferguson. I know you want to see it. You’re always droning on about medieval architecture.”
“Of course I do.” Ferguson gave his friend a significant look and tilted his head toward Edward. “But I’d prefer to see itlater.”
“Later?” Thetford’s brow wrinkled. “Why later? Why do we not just—”
Caro grabbed her husband’s arm, yanking him back down. “Henry,darling. I would bebereftwithout you.”
She was staring hard into Thetford’s face, and Edward could almost see gears turning inside his head. “I think I’ll just… stay here, then?” he said, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Caro beamed at him. “Oh, thank you, my love.”
Edward glanced about the party, searching for a suitable chaperone. He hadn’t been planning to ask Anne, but judging by the glare Morsley was giving him, the suggestion that his nine-months-pregnant wife might like to climb the crumbling battlements would not be a welcome one.
“Darling,” his mother called, “go up with Miss St. Cyr. It won’t be improper, we’re all just here. And I hate to think that she might miss the gap.”
Edward suddenly recalled how, in her rapture, she had almost tripped over the statue of Hector in the rotunda. “Well, then,” he said, rising. “If you’re certain it’s all right—”
A cacophony of voices called out for him to go.
Edward hurried up the stairs, and found her leaning against the crenellated parapets, gazing out over the surrounding countryside. She smiled as soon as she saw him, and he suddenly wished he were an artist so he could capture the way she looked in this moment, with her red hair and white dress, leaning against the golden stone wall, the deep blue sky and rolling green hills behind her. It struck him that his life two weeks before had been like a sketch in grey charcoal. But with Elissa in it, suddenly everything was painted in glorious colors.
Some mad impulse had him intertwining his fingers with hers rather than offering his arm as they started around the battlements. Elissa ducked her head, but her shy-but-thrilled smile was the opposite of the miserable grimace she had been sporting the past few days, and his heart sang to see it. It was windier up here, and when a sudden gust kicked up, she squeezed his hand as she caught her balance, then laughed.
“I’ve never been up this high,” she confessed. “It appears I have a bit of vertigo.”
“Wait until you see what’s ahead.”
They made their way across the front of the castle, pausing to enjoy the view from a corner tower. Halfway around the side, they came to the gap.
As the entire east side of the battlements were gone, the only way to reach the haunted tower was via the western wall. Most of it was still sturdy, but there was a gap of about four feet where the walkway had collapsed.
Four feet was hardly any distance at all. On flat ground, you scarcely even had to hop.
It was a bit of a different prospect when there was a twenty-foot drop below you.
