But tonight, as the last moments of daylight faded, the house was silent.
“Grandfather?” Isaac was eager to tell him the news—to shed this secret from his shoulders. He was going to marry Sophia. Grandfather would love that news. After twenty years without one, Morvoren house would be sure to have a mistress. Grandmother had died decades before, and since, it had just been Grandfather and his servants within these walls—until the year before when Isaac’s mother had died, and he had moved to Cornwall.
Isaac bounded up the stairs two at a time, swinging around the corner with one hand on the banister. His smile fell, and dread sank through his stomach.
Grandfather lay at the base of the second-floor staircase, arms and legs bent awkwardly at his sides.
Isaac’s balance faltered as he ran forward. He fell to his knees and gripped Grandfather’s shoulder, giving it a slight shake. His heart raced as he examined him. He watched his back rise and fall with a labored breath.
“Grandfather?” His voice shook as panic overtook him.
He must have fallen down the stairs.
Where were the servants? Why was he alone? Isaac screamed for help, keeping his eyes fixed on Grandfather’s face, where a dark bruise had already spread across his weathered forehead. His eyelids fluttered, his wrinkles deepening with a flicker of pain. His thick white hair was stained with blood, and a small puddle had begun to form on the floor beneath him. Isaac touched his face, his cold hand having no effect on Grandfather’s consciousness.
A footman reached the top of the stairs, and Isaac immediately sent him to call for the doctor. It felt like an eternity before the young physician reached them, emptying his bag of supplies on the floor beside Grandfather’s prostrate frame. He worked quickly, washing his wound and wrapping white bandages around his head.
“His leg is broken,” the doctor said in a methodical voice, his brow furrowed as he observed each of Grandfather’s limbs. “I will have to set the bone.”
Isaac sat back on his heels, his head spinning. His throat clenched with emotion. Seeing a man who Isaac had always known to be strong become so fragile didn’t seem real. But Grandfather had been aging rapidly over the past few years. That was when he had named Isaac his heir and later invited him to live at Morvoren. Perhaps he had realized how breakable he had become.
All the joy Isaac had felt on those cliffs at sunset was pushed aside, drowned in this nightmare. With Grandfather’s broken bones wrapped, the doctor helped carry him to his bedchamber. The doctor assured Isaac he would watch over Grandfather through the night, so hours later, Isaac wandered back to his own room with dried tears on his cheeks and a raw throat. How Grandfather fared through the night was critical, the doctor had said, and morning would bring conditions, good or bad, that would determine his outcome.
Sophia flooded Isaac’s heart as he fell asleep—a smile, a reassurance, a whisper, a hug. When he saw her again, she would help him see reason. Grandfather would recover. He was resilient like that. He had to recover. Isaac wasn’t ready to be master of a house, to manage the land and finances of Morvoren. He felt untrained and unprepared. At twenty-two, he didn’t know much of the world. His parents were gone, but they had taught him duty. Grandfather had taught him friendship. And Sophia had taught him love. But there was still so much he didn’t know. He could feel the emptiness, the inexperience, washing up inside him until he could hardly breathe.
Grandfather wasn’t awake by morning, nor was he awake by the next evening.
Isaac sat in a chair beside his bed, keeping a cool cloth on his forehead and reading him books he wasn’t certain he could even hear. Grandfather’s favorite books were about history, daring men and their quests for adventure and discovery. His favorite characters were real people, with secrets and scandals, moments of strength and moments of weakness.
But Isaac was afraid that soon, Grandfather would become a piece of history too. A character. A footprint left in the sand. If only Isaac had known him better. If only he had visitedhim more often and not just come to Cornwall to retrieve his inheritance.
His troubled thoughts kept him alert despite his lack of sleep, and he hardly had time to think of the ring at the shop in town. His chest felt empty, his heart aching with each passing hour. Isaac hadn’t even had the chance to tell Grandfather the news of his upcoming engagement. Now he feared he never would.
By the second morning, Grandfather was still asleep. Isaac rubbed his weary eyes, staggering down the stairs and out the front door. He mounted his dark horse, leaving Grandfather under the care of the physician. He didn’t want to worry Sophia, but she should know what had delayed his proposal. His heart ached, and unshed tears caused a lump to form in his throat. Once he saw her, everything would be better.
All he wanted was to hold her hand.
He rode swiftly to Lanveneth House. The structure was weathered cream stone, with lush, well-tended gardens, and a coveted view of the sea. Sophia had told Isaac she never wished to leave Cornwall, but that she would leave Lanveneth for him. He smiled at the not-so-distant memory as he led his horse up the drive.
He knocked on the door, and it opened at the hands of the Hales’s butler. Isaac had knocked on that door countless times, stealing chaperoned conversations with Sophia in the drawing room, or strolls around the property. Her parents had become comfortable with the courtship, happy to see him, even. The butler had always been grim but accommodating.
Today, his wrinkles were a little deeper.
“Is Miss Hale in?” Isaac asked.
The butler’s gaze dropped. “The Hales have left Lanveneth, Mr. Ellington.”
Isaac’s skin grew cold. For a moment, he lacked the ability to grasp the butler’s words. “Left?”
“They have vacated the premises, sir.”
Isaac’s chest tightened, the edges of his vision blurring in confusion as he caught sight of the white sheets covering the furniture behind the butler. “When?” Isaac blurted.
“Yesterday evening.”
Isaac took a step back, his muscles stiff. His mind raced. “Where have they gone?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
