Shine Like the Dawn Page 11

  Mrs. Harcourt might have been involved with another man, and she might have threatened her father with a false accusation, but she wouldn’t plot to murder him and his whole family…would she?

  A chill traveled down Maggie’s back. Could that be the reason the Harcourts had been so eager to send Maggie and Violet away? Was that part of Mrs. Harcourt’s plan to make Maggie’s family disappear so that no one would be able to expose her secret?

  The scent of smoke drifted past Maggie. She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. It smelled different than the scent of their kitchen fire. She rose from the bed and glanced toward the window. Sometimes the wind blew smoke toward them from the neighbor’s chimney. Perhaps that was all it was.

  She crossed the room and pushed aside the lace curtain. A wispy cloud of smoke drifted up past the window from the direction of Neatherton’s. Maggie’s heart lurched. She swung around, then hurried out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

  Nate strolled down the village street, replaying his conversation with Reverend Samuelson and the three workmen from Clifton Engineering. The stories they’d told about accidents related to long hours and poor working conditions sent a troubling wave of concern through him and stirred more questions in his mind.

  How did those in charge at Clifton expect the men to produce quality products when they were overworked and waiting in fear for the next accident to happen?

  Something had to be done. Every man’s life was important. But as the newest member of the board, with little working knowledge of the company, he wasn’t sure they would listen to him. He huffed out a breath. Somehow he must document the facts and then do what he could to help the workers.

  He walked on, noting the lanterns glowing in the windows of the homes he passed. One window gave him a view of a family seated around the fireplace. Bits of conversation floated out the open doorway. The scene lasted only a second or two as he walked on, but it stirred a longing within him.

  What would it be like to enjoy a quiet evening with his family seated around the fire as they talked about the events of the day? Evenings at Morningside were something he endured rather than enjoyed. They consisted of a stiff, formal dinner with Helen and Clara and then a few minutes of stilted conversation in the drawing room before he excused himself for the night.

  He shook off those thoughts and walked on. He was the head of the family now. It was up to him to change the atmosphere in his home and forge stronger relationships between himself and his stepmother and sister.

  When he reached the Red Lion, he debated stopping in for a meal before he started home, but he decided against it. If he was going to influence Helen and Clara, he must spend time at home and work on strengthening the bonds among the three of them. He walked around back to the stable where he’d left his horse just a few hours earlier and paid the young groom who had watched over him.

  A man burst out the back door of the inn, his eyes wide. “Grab a bucket! There’s a fire down the street!”

  Nate swung around. “Where?”

  “Neatherton’s boot shop.”

  Alarm shot through Nate. He dashed out the door and ran around the corner toward Maggie’s. A small crowd had gathered in the smoky street in front of Neatherton’s. One man shouted orders while another organized a bucket brigade.

  Nate ran past all of them and banged his fist on the millinery shop’s front door. “Maggie! Mrs. Hayes!”

  The door swung open and Maggie looked out. Her wide-eyed gaze darted to the crowd past his shoulder. “What is it?”

  “There’s a fire at Neatherton’s!”

  “I thought I smelled smoke. I was just coming down to check.” She stepped outside and looked toward the neighboring shop. “Is everyone out?”

  “I’m not sure. But it would be wise for you and your grandmother and sister to come a safe distance away until the fire is under control.” He didn’t want to frighten her by suggesting their shop might also catch fire, but it was a very real possibility. Only a narrow passage separated the millinery shop from Neatherton’s, and their roofs almost touched.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll wake Grandmother and Violet.”

  “I’m awake.” Mrs. Hayes hobbled across the shop and joined them at the front door. Maggie quickly explained the situation, and her grandmother sent an anxious glance toward the neighboring shop.

  “I suggest you take your grandmother across the street, out of harm’s way.”

  Maggie’s eyes darted toward the curtain separating the shop from the family’s private rooms. “Violet is in the back room, next to the kitchen.”

  “I’ll get Violet. You take care of your grandmother.”

  Maggie nodded, then ushered her grandmother outside.

  Nate hurried through the hat shop and into the kitchen. A hazy veil of smoke already curled through the air close to the ceiling. He clamped his mouth closed and pushed past the blue curtain, into the small bedroom. Violet lay in the bed, fast asleep.

  He threw back her bedcovers and scooped up the girl. Violet startled and her eyes flew open. “It’s all right, Violet. I’m carrying you out to join your sister and grandmother.” He started toward the doorway.

  “My crutches!” She pointed to the wall near the bed. He shifted her weight and grabbed the crutches with one hand, then he carried her through the lowering haze and out the front door.

  When they reached the street, he darted a glance at the neighboring shop. The roof was fully ablaze, and flames were visible through the front windows as well. Even from a distance he could feel the intense heat. A few men threw buckets of water on the building, but most of the crowd had pulled back, watching the blaze from a safer distance, across the street.

  “Throw water on the neighboring shops,” one man called to the others, directing them toward Maggie’s shop on the right and the druggist on the left.

  Nate studied the scene with growing dread. The village men hadn’t been able to slow the fire’s raging appetite, and the boot shop was nearly engulfed.

  He turned away and carried Violet through the crowd, searching for Maggie and Mrs. Hayes. He spotted them standing with two other women by the door to Mrs. Fenwick’s Teashop, on the opposite side of the street.

  Relief flooded Maggie’s expression as he approached with Violet. She stepped forward and took the crutches from his hand. He lowered Violet to the ground beside her. She looked her sister over and smoothed her hair, then whispered reassuring words to the frightened girl.

  Nate turned back toward the fire, weighing the situation. There was still time to rescue a few items from the millinery. He turned to Maggie. “Do you have any valuables you want to bring out?”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “I keep some money in a box upstairs in my room.”

  “Oh, Maggie.” Grandmother lifted a trembling hand to cover her mouth.

  He had no idea how much money the box held, but if it was important to Maggie, he would do his best to retrieve it.

  Maggie laid her hand on her grandmother’s arm. “It’s all right. There’s time. I’ll go back.” She stepped toward the street.

  Nate reached for her arm. “No. You stay here. I’ll go.”

  “But you won’t know—”

  “Just tell me where it is. I’ll bring it to you.”

  She darted a glance at the shop and then turned back to him. “It’s in the trunk at the foot of my bed in a wooden button box with a green velvet lid.”

  He gave a quick nod and started to turn away.

  “Please be careful!” Maggie called, her voice urgent, her eyes sending a message of concern.

  His heart lifted. “I will,” he said, then hustled across the street and into the smoky shop.

  The air grew thicker as he made his way up the steps. Soon his eyes stung and his nose filled with the acrid smell of burning wood. He lifted the corner of his suit coat to cover his mouth and nose, hoping that would keep the smoke out.

  He spotted the trunk at the foot of the bed, knelt, and quickly lifted the
lid. A Bible lay on top of a folded shawl. He pulled them from the trunk and laid them on the floor. Pushing aside several other items, he spotted the small wooden box and lifted the lid. A few one- and five-pound notes lay folded in the box.

  He waved the smoky air away from his face, then grabbed the box and picked up the Bible and shawl from the floor. If the shop truly was going up in flames, they might be a comfort to Maggie. He squinted and looked around, searching for anything else of value she might want, but his stinging eyes made it impossible for him to continue his search for long. He rose and hurried down the stairs.

  Holding his breath, he ran through the shop and out the front door. Once on the street, he stopped and pulled in several deep breaths, then made his way through the crowd, searching for Maggie.

  She hurried toward him. “Are you all right?”

  He coughed and nodded, then handed her the box, shawl, and Bible. “I thought you might want these.”

  She bit her bottom lip. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked up at him. “Thank you. These belonged to my mother and sister.”

  Nate nodded, thankful he’d been able to bring them out as well.

  A loud crash sounded behind them. Maggie gasped and clutched the shawl and Bible to her chest.

  Nate swung around, and his spirits plunged. Neatherton’s roof caved in with a roar. Sparks flew through the air and flames licked the peak of the millinery shop’s roof.

  “Oh no!” Maggie’s strangled voice tore through him.

  Violet burst into tears and clung to her grandmother.

  “There, there.” Mrs. Hayes patted Violet’s back, but her own chin trembled as she watched the flames leap across the gap and spread to her roof.

  Maggie stared at the shop, her solemn expression frozen on her face. The crowd continued throwing water on the front wall of the shop, but soon flames swept across the wooden roof shingles.

  Nate stepped closer to Maggie, wishing he could shield her from the terrible sight and protect her from these dreadful losses.

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “It will be all right.” But his words blew away on the smoky wind.

  Maggie stared at the dying flames, then rubbed her eyes as though that could wipe away the terrible scene before her. How could their shop, home, and everything they owned burn down to this heap of charred rubble in less than an hour? It was impossible to take in.

  Grandmother stood between Maggie and Violet, her thin shoulders stooped as she surveyed the smoldering remains of the shop. “I’ve seen many a sorrowful sight in my time, but this is…There are just no words.”

  Maggie nodded, her chest aching and frightening thoughts tumbling through her mind. Where would they go now? What would they do?

  She clenched her jaw and tried to calm her trembling. She must collect herself and try to say something to comfort Grandmother and Violet. She turned toward them, struggling for words. “No one was hurt. That’s what’s most important. We still have each other.”

  Grandmother’s shawl fluttered in the wind, and she slowly shook her head. “Everything we’ve built is gone—our home, our business.” Her voice was hushed, as though she hadn’t even heard Maggie’s efforts to comfort her.

  A shiver raced down Maggie’s back. Should she ask Grandmother if the shop was insured against fire? What if it wasn’t? That possibility was too upsetting to consider, let alone mention to Grandmother tonight.

  Even if it was insured, would the coverage be adequate to rebuild? How would they support themselves until they could open the shop again—if that were possible? Maggie’s thoughts careened ahead into their unknown future, and she felt like she had walked into a long, dark cave without a light.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to block it all out of her mind.

  “Why don’t you come inside and have a cup of tea while you sort out what’s to be done?” Their neighbor Esther Fenwick slipped her arm around Grandmother’s shoulders.

  Grandmother’s chin trembled. “That’s good of you, Esther. Thank you.”

  “Maggie.” Nate walked toward them through the thinning crowd with Reverend Samuelson at his side. Soot smudged Nate’s glistening face, and his trousers and jacket were splattered with water and mud. “I’m sorry. I wish there was more we could’ve done.” He glanced back at the smoking ruins, weary lines creasing his forehead.

  Maggie’s throat ached, and she had to force out her words. “It’s not your fault. You did what you could.”

  “It was a very gallant effort,” the reverend added, “and very heartening to see so many men working together to fight the fire.”

  “Yes, but two families lost their homes and businesses tonight.” Nate placed his hands on his hips and glared down the street. “If we had proper firefighting equipment, we might have been able to keep the fire from spreading.”

  The reverend nodded. “Perhaps it’s time the village invested in a fire wagon and recruited volunteers who could be trained in firefighting techniques.”

  “That’s an excellent idea.” Nate turned back to Samuelson. “I’ll look into it and see what we need to do to start the process.”

  Reverend Samuelson focused on Maggie and her grandmother. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I’d like to offer my assistance. The rectory is quite small, but I could make inquiries and find someone who would allow you to stay with them until you can find permanent lodgings.”

  Maggie glanced at Grandmother, uncertain if they should accept the reverend’s offer.

  “There’s no need.” Nate stepped forward. “They’re coming to Morningside with me.”

  Maggie sent him a surprised look. “Thank you, but we cannot accept.” He might be the master of Morningside, but she would not be ordered around by him or anyone else.

  His eyebrows rose. “But Morningside has several empty guest rooms. You’d be quite comfortable there, and I’d feel much more at ease knowing you had a safe place to rest and recover.” He studied her a moment and seemed to notice her stiff posture and raised chin. He softened his tone. “At least spend the night. Tomorrow we can sort things out.”

  Perhaps she ought to consider it. “How would we travel there?”

  “I’ll rent a carriage and hire a driver.”

  Grandmother touched her arm. “It’s a sensible plan, Maggie.”

  The journal entry she’d read earlier that evening rose in her mind, and her stomach tensed. What if her suspicions about Mrs. Harcourt were true? How could they stay in the same house with the woman who might be responsible for the deaths of her parents and sister?

  That thought repulsed her, but if she did agree to go to Morningside, she might be able to find some evidence that would link Helen Harcourt to their deaths. It wasn’t too late to see her punished for the crime if she was the one responsible. A visit to Morningside could bring her closer to the truth, and that would be worth suffering the discomfort of being around Mrs. Harcourt.

  She glanced at Nate, and a wave of uneasiness traveled through her. What would he say if he knew she suspected his stepmother of wrongdoing? Would he welcome her into his home, or would he turn his back on her as he had four years ago?

  Since Nate’s return she’d allowed his kindness and attention to soften her resolve to keep her distance from the Harcourts. But she would not let it go any further. She must protect herself and her family at all costs.

  Most of all she must remember the Harcourts could not be trusted.

  Maggie looked out the carriage window as they rolled up the hill toward Morningside Manor. A half-moon peeked out between heavy clouds, spreading pale, silvery light over the winding drive and gardens. Nate rode his horse alongside the carriage, though he was only a shadowed figure in the moonlight.

  When they reached the top of the hill, torches lit the wide, circular front drive.

  The house rose before her like a huge, dark castle set against the rugged mountainside. Gravel crunched under the carriage wheels, and the springs squeaked as the dri
ver slowed the horses.

  Maggie picked up her mother’s Bible, sister’s shawl, and the money box from the seat beside her and glanced across the carriage. Violet sagged against Grandmother’s arm, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. The poor girl looked exhausted; no wonder, it was well past midnight.

  Nate dismounted his horse and opened the carriage door. Maggie looked out, expecting a footman or butler to meet them. But since the hour was so late, she supposed the household staff had already gone to bed.

  Nate held out his hand to help her down. She took it but looked away and slipped her fingers from his as soon as her feet touched the ground. Nate helped Grandmother down next, then handed out Violet’s crutches. Grandmother took them.

  Nate turned to Maggie. “Shall I carry Violet in?”

  “Yes, please.” Maggie and her grandmother stepped back, waiting for Nate to lead the way. But as he carried Violet toward the house, Maggie sprang ahead, shifted her belongings to one hand, and pulled open the massive front door.

  “Thank you,” he murmured as he passed through with her sister.

  Maggie and Grandmother followed him into the dimly lit entryway and then into the larger great hall.

  Round glass globes that looked like large bowls turned upside down sat on top of the corner posts at the bottom of the stairs. They glowed softly and sent a pale-yellow light around the room.

  “Look at that,” Grandmother whispered, her gaze fixed on the globes.

  “Yes.” Maggie had heard about the strange inventions Nate’s father had placed around the house, including the unusual lights, hot water for bathing on the upper floors, and a lift to bring food up from the kitchen to the dining room. They were powered by something called hydroelectricity, which was created by moving water. Maggie couldn’t imagine how water could light the house and run all those inventions, but it appeared to be true.

  Perhaps that was why people called Mr. Harcourt the Magician of the North. But she was not superstitious. She knew it was not magic but science behind the lights and other inventions at Morningside Manor and Clifton Engineering.