They were both watching her and shared a look. “Is there something you want to tell us?” Mrs. Rosewood asked.
She grasped her napkin and twisted it up in her lap. Edward said he loved her, and if he did, wouldn’t he be willing to believe her? Catherine swallowed past a lump in her throat. She had to check, just to be certain.
“I’ve heard stories about the forest. About people who go missing and never come back. I think they said the fae led them astray...”
Her question was met by silence. Mrs. Rosewood studied Catherine, and her expression was impossible to read. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything.
Edward laughed. “Did a bobbing light lead you astray? Or perhaps you joined a dance beneath moonlight with strange fae creatures?” he asked.
She looked down at the tablecloth, and her stomach sank. Of course, he would find it ludicrous. “I don’t know. At times the shadows can play tricks on your eyes...”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She didn’t pretend this time and pulled her hand away. His dismissal stung. She had hoped he was different, that perhaps he might believe her...
“Don’t be upset, darling. It was only a joke. There’s lots of superstition in this village, but it’s all nonsense. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s not as if you saw anything, did you?”
Mrs. Rosewood frowned and said nothing.
Catherine twisted her napkin so hard she feared it would rip. Even if she told him where she’d been, would he believe her? No one would expect for Mr. Thorn... She flushed to think of how close they’d been in the forest while they’d danced. She’d tried to put those memories from her mind, but if she really wanted to have her questions answered, it was to him she must go. Edward and Mrs. Rosewood could never understand.
“You shouldn’t tease her like that,” Mrs. Rosewood scolded. “Don’t you see you’re embarrassing her?”
“No. No. He’s right; it’s silliness.” Catherine put up her hands in a placating gesture.
“Why don’t we talk about something else, hmm?” Mrs. Rosewood prompted.
“You’re right, Aunt. What about the ball? Now that Catherine is returned, plans can be resumed...”
Their voices floated over her as they discussed details of the ball back and forth. Catherine might as well not been there at all. If she couldn’t make Edward and Mrs. Rosewood understand, then she had no choice but to seek out Mr. Thorn.
14
Three identical, crisp, white napkins sat in a line before three sets of ornate silverware with carved handles shaped like vines and flowers. Catherine kept her hands hidden under the table as she wrung them. The heat of Mrs. Morgan’s glare burned at the back of her neck. Mama had loved to throw dinner parties; she would have known which setting would best match the good china. But for Catherine, they all looked the same. If she wanted to catch Mr. Thorn alone and ask him questions about the forest, she would need to make a decision and soon. But how could she choose? What if she picked wrong and inadvertently embarrassed Edward at the ball?
“Lady Thornton, have you made your decision?” Mrs. Morgan asked with a tinge of annoyance in her tone.
Catherine gnawed on her bottom lip. She lifted her hand, then curled it backward. She could ask Mrs. Morgan for her expert guidance, but she equally feared her scolding. Only one night had passed since she’d returned from the forest, but she felt as if her place remained uneasy. Any wrong move and all she had fought for would come crumbling down around her. Catherine’s hand hovered over her three options. What choice was there to make? She closed her eyes and pointed.
“Very good, my lady,” Mrs. Morgan huffed.
Had it really been the right choice? She really hoped so. Catherine’s shoulders were tense as Mrs. Morgan cleared away the napkins and silverware. Now would be a good chance to excuse herself for a walk. She just prayed she could find Mr. Thorn, and he would be willing to answer her questions. None of the fae she’d seen as a girl stuck around for very long, other than the small garden faeries and gnomes who spoke in riddles. To think it was real this whole time, that she suffered in Elk Grove for nothing. Her chest constricted. Better to shove that thought away before it swept through her. If she were good at one thing, it was ignoring things that troubled her...
“Lady Thornton, a visitor,” Mr. Hobbs said from behind her shoulder.
Catherine jumped, turning to face him. A visitor? But she hadn’t even gotten a chance to go seek out Mr. Thorn yet. From the moment she woke, Mrs. Morgan had kept her occupied making decisions for the ball. She’d tasted various dishes the cook had prepared, had to choose music the band would play, and the gown she would wear.
“Who is it?” Catherine asked. And winced at the question. Was that too direct?
“Mrs. Rosewood, my lady,” Mr. Hobbs said in a monotone.
“I’d be delighted to see her.” Catherine rose from her chair. Any escape was welcome, and perhaps once their visit was over, Catherine might be able to slip away and go in search of Mr. Thorn at last.
Catherine followed Mr. Hobbs out of the dining room and to the morning room. When she reached the closed double doors, she paused. Why had Mrs. Rosewood come to visit? Was it out of concern for her nephew? Or perhaps to keep tabs upon a woman that might be a flight risk. Mrs. Rosewood had told her she could talk to her. But everyone had seemed so resistant to talk about it. Did she know something and wanted to warn her in the same way Miss Ashton had tried to warn her before he untimely demise? A chill ran down Catherine’s spine.
Mr. Hobbs opened the doors to the morning room onto Mrs. Rosewood. She sat beneath the large bay window, which overlooked the forest, her head turned away from Catherine. As they entered, she pivoted toward Catherine with a bright smile and rose from her seat.
“Sorry to drop in unannounced; I hope it’s no trouble?” Mrs. Rosewood said in greeting.
“Not at all,” Catherine said and stood awkwardly in the doorway. Should she offer her refreshments or encourage her to take a seat? “Would you take tea?” Catherine asked.
