“Good morning,” the man greeted her with a smile.
He had bright blonde hair and dark eyes, and Isobel recalled Richard telling her of a man who bore this description and immediately smiled.
“Cousin Arnold. Good morning. How are you today?” she enquired politely, finally able to put a face to the man Deborah had been searching for the day before.
He glanced back at the expanse of the property and grinned,
“I am well, cousin. I felt rather uncomfortable after spending so much time indoors, so I went for a ride in the woods. How are you today? It gives me great joy to see you back on your feet. You looked rather sickly that morning. I was quite worried.”
Isobel smiled reassuringly. “I am quite well. It seemed that something I might have eaten did not agree with my insides. But after some rest and some medicine, I am as right as rain once more.”
“I am very glad to hear that. We were all quite concerned. What — with your wedding only a handful of days away, there is no worse time to fall ill. But you look rather dazzling today, so I trust that you are in good health.” He replied, nodding in approval.
He seemed so charming and respectful, it was hard to imagine he was related to Bridget in any way. He did not seem anything like his mother; his words were rather confident, whereas Deborah’s were soft-spoken. They were quite a unique family to her.
Her lips parted to ask him if he recalled seeing anything suspicious the day she fell ill, but before she could get a word out, she heard a scream.
“Did you hear that?”
He stared down at her blankly. “Hear what?”
Isobel glanced around. “I thought… I thought I heard a child scream. Did you really not hear that?”
Arnold shook his head, and she considered chalking it up to her imagination, but her instincts told her there was no harm in searching her environment anyway.
So she told her cousin, “I must go. Have a nice day.”
After he had walked off into the house, she walked around it, heading in the direction of the garden.
These ones were much more modest compared to the one her mother had nurtured in Scotland, but they had their own charm, marked with colorful flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze.
Isobel continued to walk around, searching for the source of the cries, when finally, she spotted a child seated on the floor in tears.
Quickly, she ran to her, gently reaching for her hands to pull her up to her feet.
“There, there, little one. It is all right now. You will be just fine.”
The child peered up at her curiously, and Isobel noticed her tear-filled green eyes, realizing that this was her sister, Nora.
Inhaling sharply, she led the child to a bench close by and gingerly peered at the bleeding scratch on her knee.
“Do not cry, poppet. I am here now and it’ll all be —”
“I know you are not Valerie.”
Isobel stiffened, eyes wide. “W-What do you mean?”
“Cecil and I saw her in the attic, asleep. She looked… something happened to her, didn’t it?”
Isobel moved closer to the child, gently wiping her tears away, before she used her handkerchief to dab at the scratch gingerly.
“She will be all right soon. She is currently recovering, so she needs all the rest she can get. I am her twin sister, Isobel. And I am here to help her.” Isobel told her gently, patting the child’s hair softly.
“Do you promise?” Nora asked nervously.
Isobel smiled at her kindly, holding out her littlest finger. Nora perked up a bit and wrapped herself around Isobel, her eyes hopeful, and she stared up at her older sister.
“You have my word. I will do everything in my power to ensure that she is absolutely fine.” Isobel told her.
