Captain Lee, with two Rangers, escorted Beatrice and her father back to the house. Beatrice’s head spun, trying to fit all the puzzle pieces together. She still reeled from the realization that she did not know Emmerich at all.
The Council, those she trusted, said Emmerich was evil. And he certainly was keeping secrets. He could have hurt Billy. Could he hurt her?
Her heart, though, whispered, But I don’t want to believe it.
Arthur was already at home, tying up a sweaty horse. He stepped forward as their little party approached the house.
Lee said, “Lieutenant, you were told to stay at the barracks.”
“What’s happening with my sister?” Arthur demanded.
The door opened. Ma came out.
Avoiding her and Arthur’s gazes, Beatrice slipped past them to go to her room, leaving the front door open. Captain Lee began to explain. As soon as she entered her room, an eruption of noise came from outside. Ma weeping. Arthur demanding to speak to the Council.
Beatrice closed her bedroom door. She shut her eyes and steeled herself against her own tears.
But when she opened them and saw the small, simple room she was never going to see again, the tears fell anyway.
It was afternoon by the time they reached Firestone House. Papa had hitched up the wagon. Ma sat beside him in the box while Beatrice rode in the back with her trunk and large carpet bag. She clutched the roses in her lap. Captain Lee and his men, including Arthur, rode on their horses behind them. When they came to a stop, no one moved for a long moment.
A sob rattled out of Ma’s chest.
“It’s not what it looks like, Ma,” Beatrice said. “I’ll be fine.” She’d said that more than once, but she went unheard just like before. And she felt too hollow to care.
One of the Rangers unhooked the back of the wagon. She hadn’t even noticed them dismount.
No one said anything as her trunk was dragged out. One Ranger tried to take her bag, but she pulled it out of his grasp. The one with the trunk walked to the garden gate. Beatrice set her bag on the ground and turned to her parents and brother.
She opened her mouth, couldn’t think of anything to say, and closed it.
Ma pulled her into a tight hug. She smelled like sweat and the green vegetables they’d been laying away for winter.
“I packed you some food,” Ma said, pulling away. “In the trunk. It ain’t much but it’s some of our canned stuff.”
Pa hugged her next. “I’ll find a way to get you home. Don’t worry.”
Arthur looked down at her, jaw tight. “Sis—”
“You’re going to marry Priscilla,” Beatrice blurted. She blinked hard against her tears. Her breath caught in her chest. “You’re gonna marry her and be happy.”
Arthur swallowed hard, then jerked his head in a nod. He hugged her. In her ear, he whispered, “I’m gonna help get you home, too.”
The Ranger who had taken the trunk returned. “Captain, I don’t see anybody back there.”
“He’s there,” Lee said. He looked at Beatrice with pity. “I’m sorry about this. But know that what you’re doing is for the good of Heartdale.”
“Liar!” shouted Ma. “You’re making her do this because you all are scared and you don’t know what to do! The next time a Haunted One kills a cow or even scratches a man, I’ll be off to see you, Lee—after I’ve fetched my daughter back!”
Lee bowed slightly, accepting Ma’s vitriol. “I understand, ma’am. Beatrice, I must walk you into the garden.”
Beatrice smiled at her family and hoped she looked braver than she felt.
Arthur and her folks stared at Beatrice almost like they didn’t know her. And she supposed it did look strange, that she wasn’t crying or begging for mercy. But it felt as if she’d been caught up in a wave and there was no way to swim out of it. Or maybe she was in shock.
She picked up her bag and walked to the garden. Captain Lee followed.
Inside the garden, she said, “What’s to keep me from leaving? I could just take my bag and the jars of food and take the road through the Woods.”
“You could do that,” Lee said. “But you know better.”
They lapsed into silence, the sounds of bees and birds filling the gaps.
“It is peaceful back here,” he said.
She nodded.
“Do you want me to take the trunk into the house?”
“No. Thank you, Captain.”
He tipped his hat to her. “Goodbye, Beatrice. I hope I’ll see you again.”
He left, the gate screeching closed behind him. Beatrice sat on her trunk. After a few minutes, she heard wheel wagons and horse hooves moving down the road, back to town. She stared hard at a clump of late-blooming black-eyed Susans. She wondered if Abigail Firestone was the one who first planted them. She wondered if she should have climbed out of her bedroom window and run without looking back.
A shadow fell over her.
Beatrice said, “Do you swear you didn’t hurt Billy?”
A pause. “Why are you asking me this again?”
She lifted her head. She wondered if she should be angrier, if maybe she should be shouting, but she was too tired. And it seemed foolish to shout at something bigger than her that also had claws and sharp teeth.
Maybe that’s why she hadn’t pushed for answers, all along. Maybe she’d been more afraid of him than she had cared to admit.
Emmerich was not wearing his hooded cloak. He stood before her wearing a white linen shirt and black trousers. Distantly, she noticed that his clothes looked freshly pressed.
His expression was unreadable. “Beatrice, what has happened? Who were those people who left?”
“Please answer me.”
“I told you I didn’t. I would not hurt a child.”
“Are you why we have the Haunted Ones?”
“Why are you here with a trunk?”
She stood. There. There was the anger, brewing in her gut. “Answer my question first.”
A gusty sigh escaped him. He settled onto the grass beside her, with one knee bent and a bare, wolf-like foot planted. He hung an arm over his knee.
“Yes and no,” he replied. “What were you told?”
“That your eldest boy was killed and you tried to make a deal with the darkness in the Woods. It got you cursed and no one knows what happened to Abigail or your servants.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched. “They said you’re why we have Haunted Ones.”
He shook his head. “It is my fault that young Henry died. I will not deny it. But I did not make a deal with the darkness.” He stared ahead. “Abigail did.”
Beatrice blinked. “What?”
“He was our last child. Our girl died on the journey and we lost one boy during the first winter here. One day, Henry went hunting in the Guardian Woods and did not return. The next day, a search party I led found what was left of him.” He turned his head away, his hand curling into a fist.
Beatrice slowly settled onto the trunk, her anger dissipating. She wasn’t sure whether to believe Emmerich—but she was listening.
Emmerich said, “Abigail went mad with grief. She said she would confront the darkness and bring our son back. I said it was foolish, that we had to accept our son was gone. She slipped out during the night. When she returned, she was changed. There was hunger and madness in her eyes. She said Henry was coming home. He didn’t. But the thing she bargained with did. The servants fled in terror.” He paused, staring off at the distance memory. Softly, he continued. “It was a day before anyone came out to our house. I suppose it took time for the servants to convince anyone to come. The Darkness turned those men into Haunted Ones and then killed Abigail. Not I. I-I buried her by the well and her ivy.”
Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Beatrice felt trapped between what Emmerich said and what the Council believed. She needed to choose a side. She wanted to believe Emmerich.
She asked, “Why did the elders tell me that the servants all died?”
“Such is the nature of old stories. Things change in the retelling.”
“Why are you cursed?” she whispered.
His shoulders dropped. “I think, dear Beatrice, I have shown enough of my secrets for now. It is your turn.”
She wanted to push, to demand to know about the curse. It seemed obvious that the Darkness had cursed him, but she was learning to not take the obvious at face value.
At her silence, Emmerich turned to her. “Dear Beatrice, why are you here in your Sunday best and with luggage?”
Her gaze fell, sorrow worming through her heart and leaving behind a trail of pain. Tears dripped down her cheeks. Emmerich laid a hand over hers.
“Beatrice?” he asked. “What is it?”
Beatrice told him about the latest attacks and accusations. She told him about the town council’s decision to banish her and their certainty that Emmerich had something to do with recent events.
“I am very sorry,” Emmerich said.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is in a way, though my role happened long ago. Also, I should have not let you leave with the roses.”
“Why not?” Her eyes widened. “Did cutting them—”
“No.” He curled his hand around hers, careful not to catch her skin with his claws. His gaze bore into hers. “The reasons for why the Haunted Ones are on the move are known only to them. But if I had not let you take the roses, then you wouldn’t have been banished from your community. I am sorry.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, regarding each other. When Beatrice’s heart began to climb into her throat, he dropped his gaze and released her hand.
Emmerich stood. “I suppose I should get you settled inside. Don’t worry, Beatrice. You will not be staying here forever.” A look passed through his eyes, but it was gone before she could understand it. “Not if you do not wish to stay.”
The rest of Firestone House was as cozy and clean as the kitchen. He took her to the second floor, to a room that overlooked the garden. It was a simple bedroom, with a red and blue striped rug on the floor. The bed had a brass frame. A pitcher and wash basin stood on a stand in a corner. There was a wardrobe and a desk.
He set the trunk at the foot of the bed.
“Where do you sleep?” she asked.
“At the end of the hall, in the master bedroom.”
“How is this place so clean? Do you spend all your spare time dusting?” She said it like a joke, trying to distract herself from the hollow feeling in her chest.
Emmerich huffed a laugh. “It’s part of the magic of the place. Whenever I have need of something, I only need to wish for it. Like horses and a carriage that will go unseen and do not require a driver. There are limits, of course.” His gaze fell on the flowers in her hands. “If you set the roses on the bed, the magic will put them in a vase of water for you.”
“Oh.” She set them on the bed.
“A bell rings before the meals. If you have need of anything, speak it to the air.”
“But what of me?”
“What do you mean?”
She spread her hands, gesturing at the room. “When I was home, I helped Master Kip with his beehives. Just this morning, I was helping with the canning. I was supposed to start checking the winter clothes and begin mending them. What-what am I supposed to do here?”
“A lot has happened today, Beatrice. You will find your place. I have no doubt of that. I will let you get settled.”
She nodded, reaching up to take off her bonnet. He left, closing the door behind him. As she went to lay the bonnet on the bed, she noticed the roses were gone. Looking around, she quickly spotted them.
They had been placed in a crystal vase, which sat upon the desk by the window.
Beatrice unpacked. Clothes in the wardrobe. Prayerbook and her Holy Family holy card on the desk. She changed into one of her everyday calico dresses. Then, she explored. It was either that or cry.
The bedrooms were neat and tidy. The door to the master bedroom was closed and she did not approach it. She found the attic, which was as spotless as the rest of the house. Trunks stacked against the slanted walls begged to be explored but she left that for another day.
Downstairs boasted a parlor, dining room, kitchen, and study. The study bristled with books and reading nooks. Standing in the center, surrounded by the scents of pages and ink, melancholy rose up in her chest.
It didn’t matter if there were more books than she could read in a lifetime. It didn’t matter that the garden was beautiful and that Emmerich was there to speak with. She was cut off from home and church. When would she ever get to go to Mass again? When would she ever see her brother and parents again?
She curled up in a window seat, pulling the curtain to close herself in, and gave herself over to weeping.
At some point in her outpouring of emotion, she thought she heard a soft step a few feet away. But when she peeked out, there was no one there.
Click Here for Part Five ** Part Seven Dropping April 11
Ooh this one made me ache for Beatrice! From this I could really get an idea of what it would feel like to be exiled this way!
Ugh this is heartbreaking!!! Beatrice’s family and how supportive they are just got to me. This is such a wonderful chapter!