Dawn at Emberwilde (7 page)

Ellison continued. “Besides, the best outcome would be for her to marry, and marry quickly.” He slapped Colin on the shoulder and a grin cracked his usually austere expression. “You are one of the most eligible young men I know.”

Colin shook his head and handed his hat to Beasley.

Outside, thunder roared and a fresh wave of icy rain slammed the ancient walls of Emberwilde. The wind whistled through the uneven crevices and window spaces. Beyond his present curiosity about the new visitor, Colin had no wish to walk home in the rain.

So he complied with Ellison's request and did as he was bid. He handed his things to Beasley and followed Ellison through the foyer.

“Mind your steps, Galloway,” Ellison instructed. “This floor can get mighty slippery if your boots are still wet.”

Colin glanced down. Even the floors in the massive house were elegant. Not a single item was out of place. Even though spring had just begun, blooms from the hothouse adorned tables and mantels, filling the painted Chinese vases and crystal bowls.

Strains of soft, delicate music met his ears and grew louder with every step he took. No doubt it was Miss Constance Ellison playing, for her musical talents were praised throughout Northrop. He waited for Ellison to open the door.

“Father! You are home at last!” The melody came to a sudden stop, and Miss Ellison stood from the pianoforte, a vision of perfection and elegance, and hurried to her father. She reached out, placed a hand on his arm, and kissed his cheek. “We have been worried about you, out in that rain. You must be freezing. Just look at you. You are all wet.”

Ellison chuckled and patted her hand. “And aren't you just like my pet, always concerned for me? I shall miss it immensely when you marry your young man and move away from your old papa. For who shall care for me then?”

“Oh, Father, you know that is months away.” She waved a hand dismissively, her eyes brightening under her father's praise. “And of course, Mother will care for you.”

It was then that Miss Ellison noticed Colin. She turned her eyes toward him. “Good evening, Mr. Galloway. I trust you are not too wet from being out on a night like this. Honestly, I don't know what you have been about!”

He returned the greeting with a bow. He exchanged glances with Ellison, interpreting his silent stare as a reminder to say
nothing of the events in the Emberwilde Forest. He turned his attention back to Miss Ellison. “I am quite well, thank you for your concern. It's only a bit of a spring rain, nothing to worry over.”

“Only a bit of spring rain!” she exclaimed. “Just listen to that thunder. Why, it hasn't stormed like this in ever so long.”

Colin had always been fond of the young Miss Ellison. Of all of the ladies to grace the halls of Emberwilde, she had always been the most agreeable.

He lifted his gaze toward the blazing fire. Her mother, Mrs. Ellison, an older, stouter version of her daughter, had moved from the far edge of the room and was approaching her husband. Her countenance lacked her daughter's warmth and hospitable nature, but he had expected nothing else. She did not look at him, nor did she offer a greeting. Her attention was fixed firmly on Ellison. After all these years of living in such close proximity, Colin found her obvious snub somewhat amusing.

He looked past Mrs. Ellison's plump form, and then he saw her. Miss Creston.

The newcomer with impossibly bright blonde hair stood next to a painting. A severely cut black gown clung to her slight frame.

Was she in mourning?

Miss Ellison's bright tone drew his attention. “But look, Papa, I hear you have met my cousin.”

A fatherly smile spread across Ellison's round face. “Yes, I met Isabel earlier this day.”

Miss Creston stepped forward as her name was spoken. Colin had never considered himself prone to romantics or apt to have his head turned by a pretty face, but something about her made all noise dissipate and sharpened his focus.

There could be no mistaking the family resemblance. His eyes mapped the distinct features that linked Miss Creston to the
Ellisons. Fair hair and skin. A straight nose that tipped up ever so slightly. Light—almost white—eyelashes and brows that framed a narrow face. If he didn't know otherwise, he would declare Miss Creston and Miss Ellison sisters, so similar was their likeness. But Miss Ellison's coloring was slightly deeper, her eyes more hazel than blue, and her hair more the color of honey than summer wheat.

The young woman finally stepped forward and spoke. “It is a pleasure to see you, Uncle.”

“So formal! So polite,” exclaimed Ellison as he stepped toward her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “And where is the little one? I was quite surprised to see her. No doubt she will keep us on our toes.”

Miss Creston smiled. “She is asleep. She is not used to travel and was quite tired.”

“Well now!” Ellison beamed. “Can't say as I blame her. Traveling is exhausting business. We shall see her in the morning.”

Miss Creston remained controlled. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, Isabel, we are family,” Ellison said. “I insist you drop this sir business at once.”

At this Miss Creston smiled—a beautiful smile that both pricked and unsettled Colin in its natural delicacy and allurement.

He was lost in his own silent musings until he heard his name mentioned.

“I know you were introduced to Galloway earlier, but it was hardly a proper introduction.” Ellison pivoted toward him. “Isabel, this is Mr. Colin Galloway. He is the local magistrate, a local solicitor, owner of Darbenton Court, and a very great friend of the Ellisons.”

It was then she turned and let her full gaze rest on him. An eerie sense of understanding rushed him, as if some underlying thread invisibly connected her to him. Despite her likeness to her
cousin, one quick glance displayed the differences with equal clarity. For she was controlled and demure. He sensed her to be the sort of woman whose eyes spoke louder than her words, her expressions more descriptive than any phrase she could utter.

In turn, he gave a bow and found his voice. “A pleasure, Miss Creston.”

She returned his greeting with a curtsy. “I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Galloway.”

He liked the sound of his name on her lips, soft and sweet. And familiar.

“I am sure that Mr. Galloway has somewhere he needs to be.” Mrs. Ellison's interruption rang sharp and cool, slicing through their gentle conversation. “We've no desire to keep you from your important duties.”

Colin finally locked eyes, firm and unwavering, with Mrs. Ellison, the woman who at one time had been almost like a second mother to him. But circumstances and events had severed him from her motherly tendencies. He adjusted his stance, the floorboards creaking as he did so.

“Quite the contrary.” Ever the middle ground, Ellison stepped forward. “Galloway and I have business of our own to tend to.”

Ellison looked to his daughter and niece. “Such a pleasure to have you at Emberwilde, Isabel. I look forward to catching up with you all over breakfast. But for now, I cannot waste Mr. Galloway's time, and no doubt he is eager to return home. So we will leave you now.”

Colin followed Ellison from the comfortable music room to the hall. As he did, he could feel the stares burning holes in the back of his coat.

Things were changing at Emberwilde. Changing, indeed.

Colin was glad to be free of the confines of the music room. He shook his fingers through his hair and pushed it off his face. It had been a long day, and something told him it was about to get longer.

The men made their way to Ellison's office, a large room toward the back of the great house. Ellison was adamant about tending to his business personally. He employed a steward and a bailiff, but he was integrally involved in Emberwilde's everyday details. Even with his busy day-to-day commitments, he had always taken time to teach Colin what he knew, especially after his own son died and Colin returned from war. A trust existed between the two men, and Colin trusted very few.

It was comfortable in Ellison's study. Dusty books lined the room's south wall from floor to ceiling, and ancient maps and landscape paintings cluttered every other inch of wall space. The room's furnishings were sparse, save for a desk, a table, and four chairs scattered about. In anticipation of the master's arrival, a cheery fire had been brought to life in the grate, and several candles were positioned around the room, lighting the space with their soft, flickering light.

Without waiting for an invitation, Colin sank into one of the padded chairs by the fire and extended his booted leg. The fire's warmth was welcome after a day spent in the dampness.

“She is a lovely thing, isn't she?” Ellison exclaimed as he dropped into the chair opposite Colin, glass of port in hand.

Colin knew exactly whom he was talking about. There could be no denying it, but the less said on such matters, the better. “Indeed.”

“She'll make a fine wife for someone someday.” Ellison gave a sharp nod before tossing the amber liquid down his throat. “No doubt that is Mrs. Ellison's intention. Now that Constance is spoken for, my wife will need something of the sort to occupy her mind, and seeking and selecting Isabel's future husband should do just that.”

Colin chuckled. Mrs. Ellison had made quite a production
of finding the most suitable husbands for her four daughters. But whereas Mrs. Ellison was often perceived as light and carefree by the townsfolk, Colin was well acquainted enough with the family's situation to know that a more selfish reason fueled her motives. Emberwilde Hall was entailed, and as such should have passed to Freddie upon Ellison's death. But with Freddie dead, the property would pass to Mr. Ellison's nephew, leaving the ladies adrift. Now that all her daughters were married or betrothed, Mrs. Ellison should have been able to rest, but it was not her nature.

“I was only partly joking about your taking a wife, Colin. It's high time, a man like you in the prime of life.”

Colin shook his head and gave a little chuckle. He was no stranger to the pressure to marry. He was just not accustomed to it from Ellison. “I am in no position to marry. Not now.”

“Oh, I disagree. You have an estate that needs tending. You can't continue to live in that boardinghouse forever. Unless, that is, you've taken a liking to old Mrs. Daugherty.”

At the thought of his miserly landlady, Colin huffed. “Not likely, sir.”

But Colin could not argue Ellison's point. He did own land, and quite a bit of it.

When he was young, a fire not only claimed his parents' lives, but destroyed the estate's family house and immediate outbuildings. His aunt and uncle became his guardians, and because Colin was too young to inherit, his uncle served as the estate's agent. His uncle's own business had taken priority, however, and during Colin's boyhood the main house and properties were never rebuilt. The estate continued to reap an income from its tenants, but the great house and its fields were never leased or repaired. Since returning from the war, Colin had made steps to provide for and establish relationships with his tenants, but he had not amassed the funds to rebuild the great house and reclaim the damaged land. Between managing his
tenants and his work at his cousin's solicitor's firm, he had scarcely a free moment to entertain such a notion.

“There is great opportunity there, indeed. But a great deal of work to be done as well.”

“Never known you to shy away from work, Galloway.”

It wasn't the work that intimidated him. In fact, far from it.

“Houses can be built,” Ellison continued. “You've a great deal to your name, and you are well respected. It is time you put your land to work for you in a more effective manner.”

Colin adjusted the cuff of his coat. “Capital is required for such a venture. Capital I do not have at the moment. And if I am to look to the rents I receive and my wages in my cousin's office, I am in a sore state.”

“I understand that quandary all too well. Ah, money. Were I able I would cut down every tree in that bothersome Emberwilde Forest and sell every last bit of timber. That would set my financial troubles right, to be sure. But the forest cannot be touched. It must remain in place for future generations. So I will prevent it from becoming a hub for illegal activity instead of using it to keep the estate afloat. But you, on the other hand! Timber abounds. Mark my words. You have capital in the form of raw materials. Sell that timber, my boy, and see what kind of home you can set up for yourself.”

The words simmered. Had he not entertained those very thoughts? Of turning his humble birthright into a thriving estate in its own right?

Ellison continued. “Then you will be in a position to marry, and your wife would be a very fortunate lady. I am, at the moment, out of daughters to marry off, but I can think of no one I would trust more with my niece.”