Dunmoor: A compelling journey in gothic suspense by London Clarke

Author:London Clarke [Clarke, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: London Clarke
Published: 2021-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

28

Helena sat on the red divan in the library for what she knew might be the last time. Dunmoor was full of activity this afternoon, and just outside the closed door, she heard many comings and goings. Several of the orphans were ill, and Dr. Creek had been called back yet again. Papa was preparing his things for their departure first thing in the morning, and servants were already carrying trunks downstairs.

Helena glanced at the window seat where she and Luke had shared a moment the night before. Then she turned away as guilt washed over her. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on the memory, pleasurable as it may have been. She was still a married woman.

On the divan next to her was the stack of books she’d borrowed. She stood, picked them up, and moved from shelf to shelf, putting them back in their place. When she got to The Canterbury Tales, she was torn. With Drake’s journals in the back, she felt a certain entitlement to keep the book. But no, she couldn’t. It belonged with Dunmoor House. Leaving the book behind was another step toward her acceptance that Drake was gone and may never return. If he did return, at least she’d have a better understanding of who he was and what had happened to him here at Dunmoor. Maybe she could even forgive him for abandoning her.

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached toward the second shelf to slide the Chaucer into place. As she did, she lost her grip on the other books, and they fell to the floor. Helena stooped down to pick them up. One of them was Metamorphoses—the book she’d found in the tunnels. She’d almost forgotten about it. The book splayed open, and as she lifted it, she saw that the final pages were covered in writing—just like the last pages of the Chaucer.

She carried it to the divan and sat down, already hungrily devouring the words. But this was no journal. It was a series of short messages—some written in between the stanzas of the poem.

22 January 1803

Dearest Gus,

Today is my birthday. I am fifteen. Don’t you always say fifteen is a magical age? I’m sitting in our usual place in the vaults, hiding from May, writing to you, and wishing you were here. I know why you had to go to London, but I hate every second of your absence. Mamma says you are twenty now and must find a suitable husband. Why should you have to marry at all? Aren’t we happy here together, you and I? I dream that one day soon, Mamma will die, and we can run away together. Or perhaps we’ll stay here and find a way to break the Dunmoor curse. It would be such a great adventure, Gus. Do say you won’t marry and will stay with me instead.

Your devoted dog,

D

Helena’s heart stuttered. Gus—Augusta Leonard, née Winters. Drake’s half-sister. For ages, Helena had endured Drake’s incessant talk of Augusta and his repetition of how he admired and missed his sister’s company.

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