Is that what Toby was going to say?
There’s no other explanation. The idea makes my skin crawl, but what else could it be? Sleepy Hollow might be an odd place, but how could an accident like that happen — especially twice?
My eyes well unexpectedly with tears. I wish I could talk to Mum. She’d know what to do.Christ, I left London because of her death, but death seems to have followed me here. Just my luck.
I walk over to one of the tall, latticed windows that overlooks the front drive, and peer out into the afternoon light. The trees sway gently in the breeze, their orange leaves threatening to fall, their branches scratching at the greying sky.
Something strange is happening here in Sleepy Hollow.
And I intend to find out what.
8
Back up in my room, the diary is sitting on the corner of the dressing table where I left it last night. With the weirdness that seems to be stalking present day Sleepy Hollow, I find myself wanting to know more about its past. The smooth leather cover calls to me, and I reach for it, flipping to the next entry.
October 10, 1819
Dearest diary, what a whirlwind the past few days have been.
My soldier came back.
He appeared just after noon. I was sitting by the fire, about to complete my cross-stitch when the doorbell rang. Mr Smithers was the one to answer it, of course, but I could just see the doorway from around the corner. And there he was, my soldier, asking if I was available and if he could escort me to the local market for a turn about the stalls. I confess, I felt my stomach flutter at seeing him again.
Mr Smithers made him wait whilst I dressed properly, but soon he and I took a carriage into the town proper, with my handmaid Lucy acting as chaperone.
The autumn air was most agreeable, crisp but clear and with the smell of fallen leaves in the air. And the fair itself was a sight to behold, bustling with merchants and townsfolk. There were scarves and bonnets in fashions from overseas, and silver and gold trinkets which caught my eye. There were stalls with sweet cakes, stalls with roasting nuts which perfumed the air, and stalls with freshly cut flowers. My soldier purchased a long-stemmed red rose and presented it to me with such chivalry. “A rose for the fairest flower here,” he told me, and I was shocked at his boldness. I told him so but could not suppress my glee.
As we walked back through the clamour of town, I clutched my red rose and felt happier than I had in a long time. By this time, the sun was just setting, casting a golden light across the market stalls.
But it was short-lived, for it suddenly occurred to me that my soldier was just passing through this little town of ours, and that soon he and his troop would move on to pastures new. Diary, I rather fear I cast a bit of a shadow across the whole outing, as when I found the strength to ask how long he had left in Sleepy Hollow, he too looked sad. He was unsure, but apparently they had set up camp not too far out of town. He said that usually erecting the camp instead of the more temporary shelter meant they were likely to stay a few weeks. It seemed to me as if they were awaiting instruction from someone above his sergeant and general.
During the carriage ride home, although I did not want to waste what precious time we had left together, we were both quiet. I can’t say for certain, but I think we were both lost in thoughts of when he may be called up to leave.
Outside the house, Lucy climbed down from the carriage first, sending me a knowing look over her shoulder, saying she would go ahead and prepare the house for my return.
Diary, I feel my cheeks blush even now. As I was thanking my soldier for such a glorious afternoon and my delightful rose, he leaned forward. Grasping both of my hands in his much larger ones, he leaned in and kissed me. It was soft and gentle. Only lasting for a moment.
He pulled away, climbing from the carriage and offering his hand to help me down. Taking my gloved hand, and bowing deeply, he promised to see me again.
I cannot wait.
October 13, 1819
Dear diary, it has now been three whole days since that wonderful market visit, and I have not seen nor heard from my soldier since.
I keep thinking of our kiss. Of the butterflies in my stomach. Maybe he does not feel the same way.
Lucy says I mustn’t fret, and that he must surely be busy with whatever duties it is a soldier has to take care of. She says she could see clear as day that he was smitten with me, and that he will certainly be back when time allows.
I am not so sure. By accounts, the encampment is still set up on the outskirts of town. If he is still here and so close, why has he stayed away for so long?
October 20, 1819
Diary, it was a full week before I saw my soldier again.
This morning, as I was having my bath, Mr Smithers knocked on the bathroom door and informed me through the thick oak that I had a visitor. Diary, my heart leapt at thethought that it could be my soldier. I sent Lucy out at once to check, assuring her that I could finish bathing myself.
It was him. Lucy rushed back into the stone bathroom as I was wrapping myself in a soft towel. She barely bothered to knock, though she knew I would not mind. She had the biggest smile and was in a rush to tell me it was my soldier. He was downstairs in the vestibule, with a whole bunch of fresh flowers for me this time. He had asked if he could take me to see the new exhibition gallery at the Miniott Estate, which had just opened to the public.
