“He was found frozen to death in the forest not a week later.”
My eyes grew wide.
“You would not send Fleur away? She is so small--” I cried.
“Of course not, my child. It is important that you understand why I want you to stay away from that girl. I cannot have you becoming attached to that child. The people from downstairs lead a different life than we, it is not for us to share in, just as it is not for them to share in our own. I am simply trying to protect you. If you do not keep your distance, there may be consequences.”
“Please, don’t hurt Fleur, she is just a child.” I did not know what she would do to her.
“Heavens, Tamsin! I would not think of hurting the poor girl, but if you insist on having anything to do with her, I must warn you that I will not hesitate to punish you for your actions. Anything outside of the conventional will only result in harm, and I cannot put you through the pain that I experienced over Gil. If I see you interacting with that girl for more than a moment, I will see to it that she is confined to Bernadine’s quarters at all times.”
She was trying to protect me, however misplaced her intentions were. I would have to agree in order to protect Fleur from imprisonment and accept that I would be lonely for as long as I lived at Rhineholt.
“You promise me that you will be good and do as you are told?” she asked.
“I promise,” I said sadly, and my Aunt never again spoke of her childhood.
A week later I saw Fleur helping one of the maids dust the library. When she saw me, her eyes brightened, and my heart sank as I ignored her smile and walked toward the desk to retrieve a book for my uncle. I glanced up as I began to leave the room, and saw the maid intent on her work but Fleur’s eyes were still on me. I gave her a quick smile before I left the room, hoping that she understood. Her eyes were blank, and not wanting to hurt her feelings, I waved to her as I walked out the door. My body seemed to bounce back as my face found the buxom front side of Bernadine, who looked from me to Fleur.
“Gracious me, Fleur, did I not tell yeh to keep yer distance from the family?” Bernadine quickly walked past me and grabbed Fleur by the shoulders and shook her.
“I told yeh not an hour ago that yeh keep away. Now get yeh down them stairs and ye’ll sit on me bed until I come an’ tell yeh yer punishment.” She turned Fleur toward the door, and I saw tears welling up in her eyes. Bernadine slapped her bottom hard enough that the sound made me jump, and the maid looked up from her work and cringed. Fleur began to sob as she went down the hall and toward the servants’ door.
“Miss, yeh best get to yer Aunt and Uncle before they hear that child’s sobs. I’ll not say a word to the missus, but yeh mind what yer told from here on or they’ll be punishments fer more than just yerself.” I ran from the room taking my Uncle’s book upstairs, where I fell onto my bed and cried. I was certain that Fleur would blame me. I thought of her curled up on her own bed crying, too.
I only caught a glimpse of Fleur now and again after that incident, and though I badly wanted to apologize to her, I did not for fear that it would only get her into trouble again.
Chapter 1
"Child! Wha’ do yeh think yer doin’? At this hour, an’ here yeh are, day dreamin' away in this dreadful room...” Bernadine spoke in an exasperated tone. The servants often spoke of the Long Hall as though it was haunted.
“Yeh should be dressin’ fer dinner! Get on with yeh!"
“Just one more piece, Bernadine, then I promise I will go put on that abominable gown,” I called down the length of the Long Hall, and she grumbled herself out.
My Aunt and Uncle had invited friends from London and the nearby village to stay the weekend, and this would be my first dinner at the family table. Everyone was making such a fuss over the preparations because of the visitors. Aunt Emmaline even brought a gown back from London for me that would be appropriate for such an occasion. I had not yet changed into it, though it was extremely close to time for the guests to arrive. Truthfully, I did not care for the gown with its huge puffed sleeves and giant, billowy bow tied at the back, but a young lady of a great house would be expected to wear such things.
My father was once the head of Rhineholt, the ancestral home, like his father and his father before him and his before him and so on. The house belonged to my father up until an incident involving a highwayman somewhere along the forest road out of the small nearby town. The man ‘
ended
’ my father, as Aunt Emmaline delicately put it, and my mother disappeared from the scene never to be found. My mother and father were on their way to a ball at Hilbourne Abbey, just past the forest and through the small village. They would have stayed the week had they completed their journey.
My mother’s cloak was found washed up on the shore below the cliffs that lined the edge of the forest. Rhineholt was left in need of a successor, and my Uncle Charles took charge of the house and the land around it. My Aunt Emmaline was unable to bear children, so they kept me in the family home, treating me as their own. They were kind to me, but I was not offered the affection that a grieving child might need.
“Miss Tam! Yer Aunt will have me head,” Bernadine called into the hall, again interrupting my thoughts. I ignored her, continuing the rather long piece I had chosen to intentionally stall for time.
I only have one memory of my mother. She kissed the palm of my hand before stepping into the carriage to Hilbourne Abbey and on the journey that would lead to her demise. She has always been the same in my dreams of her, flushed cheeks and a smile. I have no memories of my father, but I have always imagined him as he looked in his portraits. There was one of them together, hanging in the Long Hall with the rest of the Rhineholt family. My father appeared strong and stern, a man not easily forgotten. I would often stare at these portraits, as I was doing just before dinner time while my hands drifted over the ivory keys of our spinnet.
When I was very young, I would pretend that my mother and father could listen to me play from their portraits. It was a silly idea, but it was soothing to think that they were watching over me, even though they were gone. With my eyes closed, I imagined them standing nearby, listening and clapping when I finished the piece. At the end of each session, it was my tradition that I curtsied to all the Rhineholt family lining the walls before leaving.
“Miss Tam! Yer gonna have the missus in a huff!” Bernadine called from the doorway.
She was ignored, again.
Music became a release for me. I played often and practiced far more than my governess asked me to, which delighted her because I did not care for many of my other subjects, apart from history and literature. Among the things I disliked about growing older was the lack of time to myself. I heard talk of a school where nuns groomed girls into polished young ladies. They taught the German and French ways at their convent in the Bavarian countryside. After my return from the German school, there would be a London season, and it seemed that the arrangements were already beginning. I would be eighteen by that time, and I was none too eager to be walking toward an altar. I found my escape in the music echoing in the Long Hall.
“Lady Rhineholt is in a mood, miss. Yeh put off dressin’ just long enough to get ‘er cross. Yeh best be expectin’ a word or two! Yer lucky she hasn’t the time to scold yeh proper before the guests turn up.”
Having guests at Rhineholt always got the servants in an uproar, particularly Bernadine. I passed her in the hallway on my way upstairs to go change, where she promptly turned to follow me. I sighed as I listened to her remind me of this and that all the way up two flights of stairs.
“Don’t yeh forget to pick up the skirt of that new gown as yer walkin’, miss. It were shipped in all the way from London an‘ she won’t have yeh tripping all over it. It’s a trifle long an’ Lady Rhineholt would be devastated if yer face found the marble right in front of them guests. It would be calamity an’ I can just imagine the talk downstairs. Oh, the storm ye’d conjure up!”
While I found her reminders more than a little irritating, it was far better than what my governess might have said to me. Hilda was hired by my Aunt Emmaline, after a recommendation from a friend, for her talent of turning young people into ‘
responsible adults
’. My room, which was still in the nursery, was right next to that of my governess, but I was glad this would not be the case for much longer. I knew that she was priming me for the convent school with her lessons in literature, arithmetic and history. She was also asked to teach me the spinnet that sat in the far corner of the Long Hall. This was, as she put it, “A requirement of well-bred young ladies.”
My youth was, I imagine, like that of any other well-bred child. It was a privileged existence, but also a cage, beautifully decorated, but locked tight always. I dreamed of breaking free of that lock, but part of me felt a sort of need to be within those walls that had once sheltered my mother.
I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs with Bernadine in tow. When we reached my room, she turned me over to my Aunt, who was waiting for me in my chambers.
“Well, I do hope you are satisfied with yourself,” she said dramatically, holding out my gown to me.
“I am sorry, I lost track of time... I was practicing in the Long Hall again...”
“Never mind, we have to hurry, the guests will be here any minute.” She sighed as I stepped into the gown. Her hands swept my hair up so that a few orange curls escaped and dangled around my temples. She shook her head.
“Shame you got your mother’s hair... that orange color...” I was taken by surprise by the note of endearment in her voice as she suddenly wrapped her arms about me. My Aunt and Uncle were not affectionate people.
“Now, please do mind your manners. Doctor Haskins and his wife will be joining us, as well as Lord and Lady Hilbourne and their son Julian, whom you may remember. Their younger son has not yet returned from France. There is also the Eckhardt family, whom your Uncle has been doing some business with in London...” She rambled on but I stopped paying attention. Then I dragged my feet through the hall and down the stairs while she reminded me of proper etiquette. The dress was, indeed, too long, so I had to be careful not to step on it.
We paused by the Long Hall when I realized I forgot to put on my gloves.
“Really, Tam, you are simply provoking me,” exclaimed Aunt Emmaline.
“I can’t imagine the pandemonium with Celia Hilbourne in this house! A young lady without gloves!” Her hands were on her hips as she spoke, and I hid the smile that always came with being scolded by her.
“I will go and get them, then. Go and meet the guests,” I said. She shook her head, knowing that I would find a way to cause further ‘
pandemonium
’
.
“You would certainly find a way to ruin the dress, or come back with your hair in shambles. That simply won’t do. With the way this evening has gone, you’ll turn up with one glove and not the other! I cannot allow it. So you will wait here until I return.” She turned and immediately swung back around to face me.
“No. You will wait in the Long Hall where no one can see you without your gloves.” Then she waited for me to turn and walk through the door, tapping a slippered foot on the marble.
I immediately went into the Long Hall, and while it was wicked of me, I laughed when she was out of ear shot. My voice echoed in the empty room long after I was silent. It felt as though the people in the portraits were laughing at me. The generations of Rhineholts forgotten stared me down. Their faces were difficult to make out, but I could see their eyes, and it felt as though they saw me, too.
The Long Hall was very dark, transformed into a haunting vision. There were a few lit candles along the walls, and their reflection cast waves of light over the shiny, marble floor. The room seemed longer with the darkened corners, and there was something sinister about the way it looked this time of night. I usually found comfort in the many portraits that seemed to keep me company, but it now felt as though the eyes of the long gone Rhineholt ancestors burned my skin.
When the moon was high over the moors, Rhineholt became a dark place with long, lonely corridors whose shadows gave breath to many secrets. Mist gathered around the trees and walls of the fortress, and as I looked out a tall thin window, it seemed that all my surroundings were shrouded.
I walked over to the spinnet. The lid was propped slightly open, and I caressed the ivory keys. A small gust of wind moved a tiny curl against the back of my neck, and I breathed deeply. There was someone in the room. Turning, I saw the figure of a man standing in the doorway. His face was not easy to make out in the shadows. Little bumps appeared on my neck where the curl brushed by.
“Do you play?” the man said, stepping into the Hall and what little light the candles cast. He was tall with the lightest of hair that was was short and brushed forward onto his forehead. His blue eyes had a rather solemn look from his high cheek bones and brooding brows. He was elegantly dressed in a gray velvet coat with gold buttons. I was stunned and did not answer.
“Forgive me. I am Eckhardt. Otto... though everyone calls me Eckhardt.” He gave me a slight bow, which made me smile and lightened the mood immensely.
“Tamsin,” I said, nearly forgetting my manners. “Tamsin Rhineholt. Yes, I do play.”
“Perhaps after dinner you would entertain your guests with a tune?” he asked stepping toward me.
“Perhaps...” I began as Aunt Emmaline briskly entered the Long Hall.
“I’ve found your gloves...” she paused at seeing Eckhardt.
“Forgive me! It is so dark in this room tonight, I did not see you, Mister...”
“Eckhardt... Otto Eckhardt,” he said with a slight bow toward her.