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Chapter Four
Alice set asideher embroidery and sighed. She reclined on the chaise longue, her feet resting on a cushion, Monty snoring in a basket at her feet. The gentlemen were still out fishing, and the ladies had gone to explore the cove. The light was fading, and it wouldn’t be long before Mrs. Bascomb came to discuss the supper menu—which, given that she always cooked star-gazy pie on this date, was more of a declaration than a discussion.
But, for now, Alice relished the peace and quiet, and the elevated position of her feet. Her ankles had been swelling a lot recently, and her lower back ached. But she daren’t tell Ross, for he’d only fuss and insist on calling the doctor. A little rest was all she needed.
And she needed as much rest and quiet as she could get, for tomorrow night they had all been invited to Lord Carlaggan’s Christmas Eve ball. Alice’s dancing days might be over, but Lady Carlaggan was an excellent woman who’d promised to provide Alice with a quiet corner in which to sit, and Ross enjoyed dancing too much to be denied the pleasure. At least with their guests, he had plenty of obliging partners.
She closed her eyes. If she concentrated enough, she could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks at the edge of Pengarron Cove. It was rumored to have been a landing place for smugglers fifty years ago, and Alice herself had discovered a long-forgotten bottle of brandy buried in the sand. It had tasted foul but Mrs. Bascomb had made use of it in one of her stews.
A door slammed in the distance, and two pairs of footsteps approached the parlor door, which burst open. Amelia and Georgia ran into the room, panting.
“Mama!” Amelia cried. Alice sat up, her heart thudding against her chest. Her stepdaughter was clutching her little dog in her arms tightly, as if she feared for the animal’s life. Georgia’s face was streaked with tears and her dress was torn at the bottom and at least two inches deep in mud.
“Girls!” she cried. “What on earth has happened?”
“It’s the man!” Amelia cried. “The horrible man!”
“What man?”
“Th-the one Papa warned us about. H-he was going to sh-shoot us!” Amelia burst into sobs and tightened her hold on the dog. Alice held her arms out and drew her stepdaughter into her arms.
“Here, set Twinkle down next to Monty, and tell me what’s happened.”
Amelia shook her head, and sobbed into Alice’s chest, her tears soaking into the material of her dress. Over her daughter’s shoulder, Alice could see that Georgia looked more composed, though she was sniffing.
“Georgia?” Alice asked. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Twinkle ran off, and we chased after her,” Georgia said. “We followed her to the big house by the edge of the moor.” She glanced at her friend. “Please don’t be mad at Amelia, Mrs. Trelawney!” she cried. “It was my fault!”
“What was your fault, Georgia, dear?” Alice asked.
“Amelia told me not to go to the house. She said he was a scary man and we shouldn’t go near him. But I could see Twinkle’s footprints. I saw no harm in getting her back. After all, she is Amelia’s dog. We followed Twinkle into the stables. It’s far enough from the main house, so I didn’t think we’d be seen.”
Georgia’s lip wobbled and Amelia continued crying.
“What happened?” Alice prompted.
“We heard shouting, and an enormous man appeared,” Georgia said. “He was so angry! He told us to leave him alone or we’d suffer the consequences.”
“Consequences? What consequences?”
“He meant to beat us, Mama!” Amelia wailed. “I’m sure of it! Then he said he’d kill Twinkle!” she burst into tears again and Alice rocked her to and fro.
“Hush, my love,” she said. “You’re safe now. I’m sure he meant no such thing. I daresay you gave him a shock.”
“No, Mama!” Amelia wailed. “He pointed his gun at me! When Georgia said we were looking for our dog, he said…” she hesitated and shook her head, “…I can’t repeat it!”
She dissolved into tears again and Alice stroked her hair, fighting back her anger at the man who’d frightened two innocent children.
“What did he say, Georgia?” she asked.
Georgia, who appeared more stoic, having inherited her father’s even temper, colored. “I daren’t repeat it, Mrs. Trelawney,” she said.
“You only need say it the once,” Alice said, “then we can forget all about it.”
“That’s what Papa says when he’s presiding over a hearing,” Georgia said. She approached Alice and lowered her voice. “Very well,” she said, her blush deepening. “He said if he found it, he’d strangle the fucking thing.”
Dear lord!
