Nora couldn’t help but smile back at his cute little outburst of car facts. She turned the page to find the picture of her gram sitting on the stone wall and the one of the loch with the cottage in the background. On the next page was a picture of her grandmother sitting at an old kitchen table next to a woman who looked to be a few years older than her. They had wide smiles on their faces and cups of tea in their hands. Nora stared at it. There was something familiar, but she could not quite place it, that was until she noticed the windows in the background. It was the cottage! Though it looked somewhat different from the way it looked now, the windows were exactly the same.
“Look, this must be Marjorie, and they’re here in the cottage before it was renovated,” Nora said, sliding the photo album over to Alistair. He looked down at it and smiled. “I think you’re right. Look at the windows.”
The album page held three more photos. One showed a heart drawn into the snow under a tree with what looked like clusters of berries hanging from it. Then there was a picture of the same old-style car parked on a road overlooking a beautiful valley to its left. The last photo stopped Nora in her tracks. Although she had seen it before, she hadn’t paid much attention to it. An old headstone with trees growing up around it sat in the center of the photo. Lichen and moss had worked their way down onto its face, covering the birth and death dates, but the name carved into the stone read clearly: “Cora Darrow.”
Nora’s heart came to a sudden standstill. Nora’s heart suddenly stood still. Could this be the same Cora from the book? No, her last name had been Douglas—unless Darrow was her married name. If that weretrue, then she hadn’t ended up with James, as he was a Campbell. She looked over to Alistair to say something but realized she hadn’t mentioned anything about the book to him yet. He was engrossed in the next letter as she slipped the photo out from the page and turned it over. There on the back wasColin’s 3x great-grandmother.
Not only had Cora been real, but she was Colin’s great-grandmother, which meant she was also her great-grandmother. Nora felt like she was falling down a rabbit hole; the more she dug, the deeper she plunged into a bottomless pit of questions.
“Getting chilly in here,” Alistair said, breaking her train of thought. “I wonder if they will ever get the power back on?” He walked over and added the last three logs onto the fire. “I’m going to get some more wood while the snow’s let up.”
“Let me get the wood. You really should be resting your foot,” Nora said, beginning to stand.
“No, I’m fine, really. It’s just a cut. Believe me, I’ve had worse and can manage just fine. Plus, it’s already starting to feel better,” he said as he walked over to the door, trying hard not to limp. He put on his boots and jacket, then exited the cottage. Nora glanced back down at the photo and then toward the bedroom. She needed to finish reading the book. There were only a few chapters left, and her interest was fully piqued now that she knew Cora was real and a relative of hers. Colin’s reference to the book having some kind of curse on it had her intrigued. Maybe that was why the book seemed to mimic incidents in real life; it was cursed.
She walked up the stairs into the frigid cold of the unheated bedroom. The temperature felt as if it had dropped ten degrees since morning. She quickly took the little red book and her neglected notebook off the nightstand and headed back down tothe kitchen.
She grabbed a pen along with the photo album and the next few letters and went over to the sofa. There was so much to keep track of, she had to start taking notes.
The next letter was postmarked 02/01/1944.
Dear Marjorie,
I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and enjoying the new radio I brought you during our recent visit. It was so good to see you, even if only for a short while. Edith adored you and can’t wait to come back for a visit in the spring. She sends her love along with this letter.
After leaving Letterfearn on Thursday, we arrived at Flora’s a little past 8 p.m. You were absolutely right; the library at Fernbeg is a treasure trove of fairy lore. I could have spent an entire month reading and still not finished half of it. However, I did uncover a few interesting things.
Remember how Mother used to tell us that knowing a fairy’s true name gives you power over them and can break their enchantments? Well, it seems to be true as I came across that very piece of wisdom in one of Flora’s spell books. The challenge, of course, is that it’s been centuries, and discovering the exact fairy is quite a daunting task.
Another intriguing find is that some fairies are bound by tasks. If you complete the task they’ve set, they are obligated to release you from any enchantment they hold over you. The difficulty here is that so much time has passed, and unraveling these tasks may prove impossible. I also found that rowan can be used as protection against fairies. It’s unfortunate that Cora didn’t have her bag with the berries on her at the time, as it could have saved us a loadof trouble. However, I am afraid I didn’t find much that we didn’t already know.
On a side note, I can’t help but wish for reconciliation between you and Flora. The estrangement between you two has lasted too long. It’s time to let go of the resentment over the matter of the cottage. Mother’s decision to give the cottage to Flora was guided by family lore, and it wasn’t Flora’s doing. She misses you, Marjorie, and I believe it would do both of you good to mend fences.
With Love, Colin
Nora looked down at the little red book sitting on the coffee table. What were Marjorie and Colin trying to figure out about fairy curses, and what did it have to do with Cora? She bent forward and retrieved the book, anticipation filling her as she opened it to where she had left off.
Chapter Forty-One
Loch Ness
After riding for nearly half a day, we passed the Turners’home, heading northwest toward Loch Ness. The weather had calmed once again, and the snow had ceased. The farther north we went, however, the deeper the snow had gathered, halting our faster pace. I did not mind the ride being a bit slower as it made it easier to converse with James. I rode up next to him, my horse falling into sync with his.
“Do you have plans for the coming new year?”I asked.
“I had planned to travel to France. Your father spoke fondly of it as a place of inspiration for not only the arts but also scientific exploration. I had hoped to see Jean Racine’s The Thebaid at the Hôtel de Bourgogne,”he said.
“Hoped to? Do you not plan to still go?”
“My father has other plans for me. I am to pick a bride and marry by the new year.After that he plans to groom me in a career in diplomacy,”he told me, defeat spreading across his face.
“Have you told him you want to travel?”
“Yes, but he does not approve. He is a kind yet stubborn man who has no bend. Being born of noble birth is a curse. Count yourself lucky.”
“If by‘lucky’you mean forced to marry a man I do not love and spend the rest of my life in servitude to him, I am bound to the same ill fate as you. No say over my own life, just a poppet to be sold off like cattle,”I said.
As I spoke those words, a storm began to form within me. I hadn’t thought much of my mission in coming to Gran’s since she fell ill, but my duty to marry well for my family still awaited me upon my return. I looked to the sky, wondering if my inner turmoil would manifest in the clouds above our heads. The storm within me recoiled as James smiled and said,“I suppose we are one and the same then.”
