Page 5 of Mistress of Darkness

We left from our honeymoon at the seaside and traveled to the hall at speed. The carriage bounded lightly against the road, and Mr. Thorne and I held hands every moment of the way, enjoying each other’s company.

As we approached, I admired the dark shutters that hugged each brightly shining window. The bright red door was intensely welcoming, and there was a small shadow in the window of the attic.

“She’s rumoredto have been cursed, you know,” Robert said quietly.

Gwen could feel his eyes upon her as she flipped through the journal’s pages but she couldn’t look away. It seemed like such a promising start to a marriage. Finally, though, Robert’s words sank in.

Gwen paused with her fingertips over the neat writing. “I beg your pardon?” Certainly she had heard him incorrectly, for Robert was not prone to jesting.

He sat down at the table across from her, causing the small chair to creak. Clearly, the books took precedence in terms of upkeep.

“There’s a legend in the village of Renwick that every owner of Dredthorne Hall is cursed,” he said, laying the Bible down on the table. “Every master of Dredthorne is doomed to fall in love with a lady who has stayed overnight at the hall; and she will die, no matter how strong his love, before their first wedding anniversary.”

She flicked back through the pages, noting that the journals began when Mr. Thorne had begun courting Beatrice, the future Mrs. Thorne. They were the work of a young woman, these pages of precise script. Could she possibly have not been healthy?

Gwen stopped her line of thought when she realized what she’d done: given credence to a musty old legend. She sat back and leveled a steady gaze at Robert. “Before the first anniversary, you say?” Though she’d tried to keep her voice neutral, she hadn’t succeeded.

Robert shook his head, smiling slightly. “I know that you don’t believe me, but it’s quite true, Miss Archer. Each woman since Mrs. Thorne has gone mad or died.” He shrugged, and got up, taking the Bible back to its shelf. “Perhaps the journals will illuminate the dark and inscrutable past of the hall.”

Her fingers paused over the pages. Did she really want to know if such a thing could possibly be true? But before long, she was reading in full, the hidden library fallen away.

* * *

Robert watchedGwen for a long moment as she delved into the journal of Beatrice Thorne. Though he hadn’t read it, she was clearly fascinated, and something about her interest and intensity charmed him. He took a deep breath and wished, not for the first time, that Christopher would soon arrive. For there had never been a day, from the moment that he had met Gwen, that he had not been in love with her.

Even now she beguiled him, from the simple way she held the journal so carefully to the way she smiled as she turned the pages. From the minute he’d mentioned the library, there’d been a certain, very lovely light in her sea green eyes. It was going to be hell to wake in the same place as her, knowing that they were so close—and yet apart.

There had always been many things about Gwen that he admired: her honesty and steadfast nature; her obvious devotion to family. But it was her beauty, in such close proximity, that now entranced him. Her brunette curls framed a heart-shaped face whose skin was so perfect that it could belong to a newborn. He wondered what it would be like to reach out and touch it.

He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He was musing on nonsense. Nothing of the sort could happen now that Christopher had been accepted by Regina.

Gwen’s mouth had opened slightly, mouthing the words she read, and her face had gone pale.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“There’s a letter tucked in this diary,” she said, and her hand shook as she lifted the page out of the journal. “A letter from a Miss Louisa Wilson.”

Robert frowned, tilting his head as he brushed the hair back from his eyes. “I know that name. If I’m not mistaken, Miss Wilson was a courtesan,” he said. “She disappeared here at Dredthorne, perhaps some fifty years ago.”

Gwen’s eyes blazed with interest. “Did she.” She scanned the letter again, looking up and down the page. “Here,” she said, pointing to one passage in particular. “She believed someone was going to harm her.”

“Strange,” he said. “Who here would want to harm her?” He paused as he reflected. “Well, perhaps Mrs. Thorne, but I can’t believe a woman of her background could do such a thing. Besides, Miss Wilson was not murdered. She disappeared.”

Gwen carefully folded the letter and put it back. “I think we need to find out what happened to her.” She looked into his eyes. “I think if we can manage that, we’ll unlock more mystery than just that.”

Did her soft voice carry a hint of worry? Though he’d only suggested that she look at the library as a bit of a diversion, she’d obviously become quite interested.

“Perhaps bring the journals with you,” he suggested. “I’ll help you to carry them. We can study them while we wait for Christoper.”

Gwen stared at the long row of journals and quickly began to make a pile of certain ones. As they gathered up the small mountain of books, Robert wondered what he had just gotten himself into.