“I know, Mother,” he spoke softly this time. “But, I have enough on my mind knowing that the girls are out in this storm, soaking wet and about to catch the worst cold of their lives, and I do not need you to add to that worry. Now, please, let Miss Montgomery take care of you, while we go to find the girls.”
He didn’t want to voice his worst suspicions out loud. The girls could have been taken by someone. Someone who did not plan on returning them. Someone who, quite possibly, was involved in the untimely death of their parents. He knew his mother did not wish to hear or know any of this.
He turned to go, but the sound of his mother’s voice bade him stay.
“But, Edmund, you are injured, you cannot possibly go outside and look for them yourself!” The Countess reminded him of what he was already painfully aware of. “I won’t have it! I have lost your brother, but I will not lose you!”
The stub of his arm itched, with occasional sharp pangs of pain that went through it. Unconsciously, he lowered that arm and pushed it behind him. There was no shame in losing a hand – everyone told him that - but everyone kept reminding him of it. As if he needed to be reminded!
“They are my responsibility,” Edmund voiced his concern. “They are counting on me to save them. The longer we remain here discussing this, the longer the girls are out in the cold, risking illness.”
His mother had nothing to say to that. He returned to his room, and quickly changed his clothes. The process was much slower now than before, but he had grown accustomed to it. He grabbed his coat, and when he went back out into the corridor, he was glad to see that Torrance and Bellows had also readied themselves for the storm outside.
“We are prepared, My Lord,” Bellows nodded, his dark brown eyes staring at the master of this house, assuring him he would do anything in his power to help.
“Let us head out, men.” Edmund started first, and his servants obediently followed.
The moment he opened the door, a gush of strong wind almost shoved him back inside, with great force. He lifted the thick collar of his jacket, hiding his neck from the onslaught of rain that threatened to soak him to the very bones. His stump ached in the freezing rain. He tried not to pay attention to it. They rushed down the stairs, and across the well-kept lawn, which now looked as though a whirlwind had swept across it.
“Madeline!” Edmund started shouting, but the storm raged on so loudly, he could barely hear himself. “Cecilia!”
He pressed his hand to his mouth as he shouted, in an effort for his voice to traverse further, but the thunder roared louder every time he called out to them, as if nature itself didn’t want him to find the girls yet.
Fighting an assault of more rain and blustery weather, Edmund pushed on. His eyes turned into slits, so that rainwater would not blur his vision. There was barely any moonlight to go by. Torrance took to the left, Bellows to the right. But, despite their best efforts, there was no sign of either of the girls.
“Madeline!” Edmund shouted again, feeling the heavy strain in the depth of his throat. “Cecilia!”
His servants joined in and called out to the girls. Still nothing. Only the angry response of the weather, which laughed in their face at their foolishness of being outside in this dreadful storm.
“My Lord, the brook!” Torrance shouted, pointing at something barely visible in the distance, his finger trembling in the heavy mist.
Edmund tried to see, but it was too far away. The rainfall had managed to blur his vision, no matter how many times he had wiped his eyes. He remembered that the girls liked playing around the brook, despite the numerous warnings that they had been dealt over the course of the years. Lately, those warnings had started to fall on deaf ears, and Edmund knew why. How did one explain to little children that life would keep on going, despite the fact that their parents were dead? How did one ever make amends after that?
Trying not to think about that, he kept struggling on towards the brook. Slowly, he could see faint outlines of two ghost-like figures, their nightgowns white as moonlight, like forest nymphs who dared to appear among humans when they were certain all of them were fast asleep.
Edmund rushed to the brook, his heart skipping a beat, disregarding the pain that was slowly intensifying.
Chapter 3
Rosalie opened her eyes heavily, feeling a small pool of rainwater gathering in her sockets. She coughed heavily, barely able to lift her head up as she did so. When her field of vision cleared a little, she could see a pair of curious eyes staring right at her.
Rosalie rubbed her eyes. The exhaustion had gotten to her, she was sure of that. She couldn’t even trust her own eyes any longer. The one pair of eyes had become two. Two identical blue pairs of eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Rosalie heard, but only a single set of lips moved. The other ones remained motionless.
“Are you all right?” The second pair asked. It was like the strangest parlor trick, with puppets.
“I see…” Rosalie struggled to get her words out, her chest on fire and every word interrupted by a cough. “Two of you.”
“Well, certainly!” The girl giggled. “That is because there are two of us!”
The little girl took the other one by the hand, and Rosalie could finally be certain that her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
“I need… help…” Rosalie tried to get up, but she was too weak.
Suddenly, two puppies jumped into her lap, and even though they were smaller than a loaf of bread, Rosalie felt like they were as heavy as two sacks of potatoes. The girls immediately took them away, wrapping them up in their soaking wet and muddy coats.
“Come on,” one of the girls spoke, offering Rosalie her hand. “You can’t stay here. We’ll take you back to our home, and you can warm up there.”
