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PROLOGUE
LONDON, ENGLAND, 1802
“Good morning, My Lady. It’s time to wake up,” Eloise Snowden’s governess said, pulling back the curtains in the nursery to let in the sunlight.
Eloise rubbed her eyes and sat up. She had been having a delightful dream about riding her horse across the parkland with her sister, Alice. She threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, running across to the window to gaze out over the gardens.
“It’s a beautiful day, Martha. I’m going to go riding. Do you think Alice would be willing to come with me?” Eloise asked.
Her governess, who was not as strict as her prim and proper demeanor might suggest, laughed. “Well, My Lady, that’s up to your sister, isn’t it? Why don’t you go and wake her and ask? But you’ve your lessons first,” she said, and Eloise smiled.
“Oh, Martha. How can you think of lessons on such a beautiful day? Wouldn’t you rather be riding out on horseback across the parkland on a day like today?” she appealed.
The look on the governess’ face suggested she would, and without waiting to dress, Eloise hurried out of the nursery and ran down the corridor to her elder sister’s bedroom. Eloise was ten and her sister, Alice, was twelve. Alice had outgrown the nursery, and now she had a bedroom in the east wing of Fairclair Grange, the London home of their father, Viscount Snowden.
“Don’t make too much noise, Eloise. You know your father doesn’t like to be disturbed,” the governess called out, but Eloise was too excited to listen.
She loved to ride out across the parkland with her sister. Fairclair Grange stood close to the river, near Greenwich, and they could ride for several miles on their horses – a black pony named Threadbare, and a chestnut mare named Bolt – through the parkland at the water’s edge. Eloise was devoted to her sister, and Alice, in turn, was devoted to her. Now, Eloise came to her sister’s bedroom door and knocked.
“Alice, are you awake? I had the most wonderful dream. We were both riding across the parkland together, and you charged ahead, and I followed. It was wonderful,” she called out, knocking loudly at her sister’s door.
There was no reply. Eloise thought it strange. Her sister was always awake at this time, and now Martha came hurrying down the corridor.
“Please, Eloise. You mustn’t shout so. Your poor sister needs her rest,” she chided, as Eloise listened at the door.
“I don’t think she’s there,” she said, and she tried the door, which opened to reveal an empty room.
The bed was made, as though no one had slept in it, and the dressing table had been cleared of her sister’s jewelry box and other trinkets, which Eloise had sat playing with only yesterday. She looked around her in confusion. There was no sign of her sister anywhere, and it was as though she had entered the wrong bedroom.
“Oh… that’s odd,” Martha said, looking at Eloise with a confused expression on her face.
“Alice? Where are you? Are you playing a game?” Eloise called.
“Perhaps she’s already downstairs. Come back to the nursery and get ready, Eloise. You can’t go down to breakfast like that,” Martha said, taking Eloise by the hand.
Eloise was still wearing her nightgown. Reluctantly, she allowed the governess to lead her back to the nursery where she washed and dressed hurriedly, anxious to find her sister. She felt confused as to why Alice’s bedroom felt as though her sister had never been there.
“But I don’t understand. All her things were there yesterday, weren’t they?” Eloise wondered as Martha brushed her hair.
“I’m sure she’s just been tidying up. Or perhaps one of the maids came up early and made the bed. Come now, let’s go downstairs. You must be hungry,” Martha said, and Eloise followed her out of the nursery and down the corridor to the landing.
Fairclair Grange was Eloise’s father’s favorite house. A rambling manor with gabled ends and ivy-clad walls, built in red brick and with delightful gardens and parklands on each side. He had an estate in Suffolk and a townhouse in Bath. But it was in London where he spent most of his time, and thus Eloise and her sister had known little of life outside the capital, even as the house itself was somewhat removed from the hustle and bustle of the city center. Their mother, Annabella, died when they were young, and it was their father, a strict man, who had raised them with the help of Martha and their aunt, Hortensia, who lived in Brighton and would descend on them occasionally for the summer social season.
“It’s not like her to go out without telling me though,” Eloise said, feeling somewhat hurt by the fact that her sister had disappeared without so much as a word.
They did everything together, and Eloise had been looking forward to riding with her sister before breakfast. As it was, she and Martha now came to the door of the dining room, which was slightly ajar. Eloise could see her father sipping a cup of coffee and reading a periodical. She had always been somewhat afraid of him, even though there was no reason for her to be so. He had always doted on both his daughters, and now Eloise glanced up at Martha, who nodded.
“You can go in,” she whispered.
Eloise had expected to find her sister sitting at the opposite end of the table. She was going to pull a face at her and chastise her for not waiting before she came down. But the dining room was empty, save for her father, an elderly man with graying hair and a furrowed brow, who now looked up at her questioningly.
“Aren’t you taking your breakfast in the nursery? I’ve got a lot of work to do today, Eloise. I don’t want to be disturbed,” he muttered, as Eloise looked around in confusion.
“Where’s Alice?” she asked. Her father cleared his throat and folded his periodical, which he set down by his side, before fixing her with an imperious look.
“She’s not here,” he replied, and Eloise’s eyes grew wide with shock
“I… what do you mean?” she demanded, and her father shook his head.
