"The man called after him. "You won't be wantin' to go that way this late in the day. The woods get dark early, and you don't want to get lost."
"I thank for your concern. But I'll be quite all right," Zach assured him.
Sunlight spilled through the treetops and shimmered like molten fire through pine and oak branches. It cut across his vision, momentarily blinding him and was then gone. When he looked again, everything seemed oddly familiar.
What was it about this place? Zach wondered again as he guided the gray through quiet hollows that led deeper into the forest.
He seemed to instinctively know where it was he wanted to go, yet knew he hadn't consciously chosen this path. There were no answers in the sigh of the wind in the trees.
The trail stopped and then started again in several places, and he realized that the stable master was right, one could get lost if they didn't know where they were going.
The warmth of the afternoon faded, and the only sound came from the horse's hooves on the trail as he guided him through gullies and thick stands of trees so dark it seemed as if it was already night.
He pushed the gray to a quicker pace, one that might have been dangerous in the fading light for one who didn't know the way. They were both winded when they finally halted at the crest of the hill looking down over the valley, lights from Fair View gleaming in the near distance. He'd been here before, he thought as he stared across the greensward. But that was impossible.
He mentally shook off the thought.
Tobias would swear he'd taken to drinking if he told him of it.
"What do you think?" He stroked the gray's damp neck. The stallion snorted.
"Yes, my fine friend. I think so too. It's time to go home." He thought of Resolute. He'd chosen the name because of what it meant—determined, as he had been determined to carve out a place for himself.
He needed only a little more time.
Here, he might be able to learn something about Felicia Barrington from the people who'd known her. Perhaps they might have heard of a man named Nicholas, even though he had no last name to go with it.
Then he and Tobias would leave. He had part of what he'd come for—the voucher Barrington had given him for the gold. He'd made a very lucrative deal, selling Barrington's own gold back to him. Perhaps that was all anyone could hope for, even theRaven.
Elyse dismissed Mrs. Evers with a smile and stood before the long wardrobe. She pushed aside first one costume, then another. None seemed to catch her interest. She dismissed the gown of a Greek goddess, then considered the costume of a Roman centurion. A smile played at her lips. She stood back, unimpressed. Then her gaze fell to the suit of armor standing at the end of the closet.
She could imagine the looks she'd get walking into the party and raising the face plate to reveal her identity.
"Jerrold would never forgive me. And it would be a bit cumbersome when it came to dancing," she admitted as she continued to search through the costumes in the wardrobe that filled an entire wall in the room that had been opened for the purpose of finding a costume to wear.
The room was decorated in tones of blue with odd pieces of furnishings at one end, all covered with dust cloths with several old trunks stacked against a wall, including what appeared to be a large framed painting that stood draped in the far corner.
She'd seen the family portrait gallery earlier in the day, along with other paintings that hung on the walls of the manor. Jerrold's family was brilliantly displayed throughout. She wondered why this one had been stored away and covered?
There had to be some reason why this painting wasn't displayed with the others. Perhaps it was unfinished, or by the looks of some of the Barrington ancestors, someone had decided this particular one was too frightening to put on display.
The painting was at least four feet wide and eight feet tall. She pulled off the cover, then gasped.
"Lady Barrington." She immediately recognized the young woman in the painting as Jerrold's mother. It was a pastoral scene with the gardens beyond the house in the background. Roses were in bloom, and Lady Barrington held a long-stemmed red rose in her fingers.
Her other hand was spread across the voluminous skirts of the most exquisite gown Elyse had ever seen. It was midnight blue, the same color as her eyes with a wide row of lace across the bodice. The shoulders of the gown swept daringly low across her shoulders, and her dark hair was worn long down the middle of her back. But what caught Elyse's attention were the earbobs Lady Barrington had been wearing when the portrait was painted.
They were an elegant design of pearls and diamonds. Exactly the same as the pendant her grandmother had given her! She read the name plate at the bottom of the portrait—Felicia Seymour, on the occasion of her betrothal, 1837.
She stood back, staring at the portrait. It was neither incomplete nor ugly. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and she was suddenly filled with a feeling of such sadness. But there was no sadness in Felicia Seymour's eyes. She looked incredibly happy.
"I wonder why you were closed away in here." She laughed at her foolishness, as if she expected an answer.
"I don't suppose you have a suggestion for my costume for tonight," she commented. She looked up thoughtfully. "I wonder what you would have worn."
"There will undoubtedly be a Greek goddess or two. Everyone always wants to be a goddess." She paused with her hand on the centurion costume, then shook her head.
"Grandmother would love it, but I fear Jerrold might come undone." She opened another wardrobe—surely she'd be able to find something in there—and stared in amazement. No centurion costume or suit of armor to be found there. Here, neatly arranged from one end to the other, was the most stunning array of gowns she'd ever seen.
