Even the moon refused to light up his way, so he didn’t see the crossed path of entangled tree roots. They made him slip and fall face down into the muddy puddle before him. His mouth filled with dirt and wet leaves, as he coughed and spat it out, his knees still digging into the roots.
His fingers clutched at the invisible enemy in the murky water, his teeth clenched, grinding heavily. Thunder clapped somewhere in the distance. Lightning lit up the sky, like a million ballroom candles. All Broderick could see were rows and rows of trees, and he knew that he had lost this battle. She had won. But she hadn’t won the war.
No, he would rather die than let her win. She hadn’t heard the last of Broderick Loveless. None of them had.
Chapter 2
“Edmund!”
The door to his room burst open, allowing in a frightful figure in white, clothed by candlelight. She almost resembled a ghost; the kind Edmund was certain might be haunting those very corridors when no one was looking. He could hear his mother’s voice amalgamating with the sound of the clapping thunder outside, and he could not ascertain which one sounded more frightening.
“What is it, Mother? What is all this commotion?” Edmund put on his robe immediately upon getting out of bed, the rope around his waist hanging loosely downward. He approached the frantic figure whose trembling fingers were barely able to hold the candle. She looked light-headed, so he took her by the elbow, just in case.
She had been light-headed often in the past few years, her mind often wandering between what is and what could have been. He was guilty of the same trespass, but in much less frequency than his mother.
“The girls!” She sounded her woe, her voice trailing off, as if she had no more strength to speak. She looked like she was about to faint any moment.
“What about the girls?” he asked, when another clap of thunder made the windows tremble, and they both jumped with fright.
“They’re not in their room!”
Edmund didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the candle from his mother’s weathered hand and rushed outside into the corridor. Most of the servants had already been summoned. The girls’ governess, Miss Montgomery, was standing in the dark passageway alongside the housekeeper, who was holding yet another candle, but it was barely enough to illuminate the large space, devoid of any further light. She dared not look at him.
“The girls are not in their beds, and we need to find them immediately! Has the attic been searched?” Edmund demanded, looking at Miss Montgomery in particular.
Madeline, his niece, had created a little haven there for her and her sister, and Edmund had found them there often, reading a book their late mother used to read to them at bedtime. That was where they used to hide when the world became a burden. He knew that feeling well.
“Yes, My Lord,” Miss Montgomery replied, her head nodding several times very quickly. “We have looked into every possible place that the girls frequent under such conditions, when they do not wish to be found.”
“Behind the bookcase? Under the big table in the dining room? The servants’ quarters? The pantry?” He started listing all of the places he had found them in before, when they were playing hide-and-go-seek, or when they simply wished to be left alone. But he was aware that this list was always being expanded, so he was certain that he no longer knew them all.
Miss Montgomery shook her head. Her usually tight bun was now loose. Thin strands of already greying hair framed her stern face, which now bore semblances of age pertaining to much older women than her. He could see the shock in her eyes, but he wondered if that was more due to the fact that she might lose her employment as a result of this oversight. He was sure he did not need to mention that this had happened before. She was well aware of her lapse of judgment.
“So, they have found a new hiding spot,” Edmund grumbled. “Why is it that you do not know of it, Miss Montgomery?”
“Because the girls are too restless!” Miss Montgomery replied, helpless. “They are like little urchins. They are worse than two boys!”
“I had no idea you felt like that regarding your employment.” Edmund frowned at her, but this was no time for pointless arguments. She was the girls’ fourth governess up to this point, and all of them claimed exactly what Miss Montgomery had just shared. “When was the last time you saw them?”
Edmund hated the fact that the entire house was up on its feet, simply due to the fact that the governess they had chosen for the position was not fulfilling it accordingly. Life had become such a burden lately, and his plans had once been so grand, so filled with hope and optimism. His phantom hand ached more than ever, probably because of the storm. As if a missing limb somehow sensed an oncoming of bad weather and needed to make this known. His ailing mother was taken out of bed as well, at a time when she should have been resting.
“I had put the girls to sleep as per your usual instructions,” she started mumbling under his scrutinous gaze. “Then, I went to check in on them about an hour later. I opened the door and saw them sleeping under the covers. But something made me check closer. When I went to Madeline’s bed and tried to adjust her blanket, I realized it was not her underneath it at all! It was a pillow!” She gasped again, as she had done the first time that night. “The same happened in Cecilia’s bed! They tricked me and ran away!”
“My goodness!” the Countess panted, and the housekeeper jumped to her aid. “Look at that dreadful weather outside!” Everyone turned to the window, only to witness another stroke of lightning tearing the sky. The rain was beating on the window violently, threatening to break the glass. “Wherever could they be?”
“Don’t worry, Mother, we’ll find them,” he assured the Countess, whose pale face revealed more than just worry.
Edmund glanced over the servants’ faces. They were all wide awake by now, even the women, worry etched on their countenance like beads of sweat. They were slightly drowsy, but he knew they were as worried as the rest of the family about the girls.
“Torrance and Bellows, I need you to come with me,” Edmund nodded at the cook and the gardener. They were about his age, still agile and able to fight their way through an onslaught of such a storm, even at the cost of a subsequent cold.
“Yes, My Lord, we’ll do whatever it takes to find the girls,” Torrance, a young looking fifty-year-old, replied, his hat in his hands.
“You don’t mean to go outside, Edmund, do you!?” the Countess asked helplessly.
“You stay inside, Mother.” He pretended that he didn’t hear her question. “Miss Montgomery will stay with you.” Then, he turned to the governess. “Have the housekeeper make her some tea. She mustn’t get upset like this. It’s not good for her nerves.”
“Edmund, I am right here.” The Countess frowned a little, and this always reminded him where the girls got at least part of their wild side from. His mother also did not like it when others contradicted her. “Do not speak of me as if I am not present. I am not a child.”
