Chapter 1

Flatford, Suffolk, England

1812

“Walter? Walter! How can you seriously still be asleep at this time?”

Walter rolled over in the bed, pulling the pillow across his face in the effort to block out the shrill voice of his sister, Lucy.

“Walter!” she called again, this time coupling the words with sharp bangs to the door.

“Ergh…” he groaned aloud as the knocking matched the thumping in his head.

“Did you go to the alehouse again last night?” Lucy’s voice was growing more and more impatient now.

“Yes,” he called back at last, pulling the pillow down off his face and blinking a few times to look around his chamber. The sunlight of the late morning was streaming through the windows gloriously, casting the room in a bright yellow glow. The four-poster bed had its curtains pulled back, revealing the white wooden-paneled room, and the brown leather furnishings.

“Argh! Fine, if you want to send yourself into an early grave by drinking, that’s your business,” Lucy called again, banging on the door, “but you made a promise to come out walking with me this morning, so you’re going to do that first.”

“You realize you don’t exactly sound ladylike right now,” Walter complained, thinking of the groaning sounds Lucy was making.

“Since when I have concerned myself with that?” she laughed through the door before banging on the wood another time. “Now, get up. I’ve got my boots on, ready to go.”

“All right,” he called back, pulling the blankets off and struggling to get out of bed. He only got two steps before the world slid sideways and he dropped to his knees. He grimaced at the thumping pain in his head. “How far are we walking?” he asked. Ordinarily, he would do whatever Lucy asked. One of three of his siblings, he often pandered to all their wants, but especially Lucy’s.

“As far as it takes for you to walk off that headache,” she said smartly through the door. Walter turned a narrowed glare toward the closed wood, as if she could see his glower through it.

“When did you become such a know-it-all?”

“When did you become such a drunk?”

“I’m not a drunk, Lucy,” he said in full seriousness, reaching for the bed and standing straight again. “I just went out with Peter last night for a drink.”

“Do you mean drinks?”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged and turned to the far end of the room, beginning to get changed, since Lucy wouldn’t allow him a moment to wait for his valet.

“I’ll be waiting for you downstairs. If you’re not there in five minutes, I’m going by myself.”

“You’re not to go alone into those woods, I’ve told you before,” Walter reached for a serious tone as he pulled the white linen shirt over his head. It hadn’t escaped his notice that every day, Lucy was growing into a fine young lady. With curly copper hair, just like their late mother used to have, she was a striking presence, with beautiful and petite features. When Lucy’s twin brother, Harry, wasn’t watching over her, then Walter was.

“I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“I’m not having this argument with you again. Least of all through a door,” he said tartly as he pulled on some breeches.

“I quite agree. I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.”

With her footsteps in the corridor signaling her retreat, Walter turned to the mirror nearest to him above a sideboard where a carafe of water was sitting. He eagerly poured himself a glass and downed it in one to quench the thirst of his hangover before his eyes settled on his reflection.

Fortunately, his night drinking with his friend hadn’t left too much of a mark on his features. The light brown curly hair that hung around his ears was a little bit messy from sleep and he hurried to flatten it into some semblance of neatness. His hazel eyes bore bags beneath them, but they weren’t too heavy. The strong jaw line was beginning to show a dappling of bristles, that he made a note of to remove later, as he preferred the clean-shaven look.

He smiled at himself, seeing his handsome face in its glory before laughing at himself and turning away to finish changing. He knew he was handsome. The string of women he’d had in his life was evidence enough for that.

He finished changing, pulling on his jacket and a quick cravat haphazardly, along with some walking boots, then hurried out of the door, half falling over in the corridor as he slipped on the rug in his haste to get to the entrance hall in time. There was no chance he was going to let Lucy go out alone into the forest. It was too dark and far too many strangers wandered that area.

“You’re late.” His father’s chuckling voice on the staircase didn’t even make Walter pause. He looked to see the Lord Thomas Aregton, Marquess of Suffolk, walking up the grand staircase the other way. The stairs curved at right angles repeatedly until they stretched the entire way up the manor, leaving Walter to cling to the banister as he hurried down. “Lucy is already out the door.”

“She’s impatient, Father.” Walter laughed too, watching the way his father’s aging face crinkled with the smile. “You’ll have to get her a governess again soon.”

“She doesn’t need one yet.” Thomas shrugged as he paused on the stairs and let Walter rush past him. “She’s still enjoying her childhood.”

“She’s practically a grown lady now,” Walter called back just as he reached the bottom step.

“I’ll think about it,” his father called after him.

“I know! You’ve said that before.” He shot one glance back across his shoulder before bounding through the entrance hall as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the headache pounding behind his temples.

It was a recent argument between the two of them about Lucy’s character.

Walter didn’t want to change her, he loved who she was, this adventurous and sometimes reckless natured young lady, but it had to be accepted that growing up with three brothers and a father was taking its toll on her. She was already sixteen and when it came to making her debut, she would not have the skills for the event if she were not prepared first. She’d had a governess once, but since their mother’s death, Lucy had grown even more rebellious. In the end, on Lucy’s twelfth birthday, the governess had resigned, claiming Lucy was such a wildling that no one could ever tame her.

“Lucy?” Walter called as he ran the length of the long entrance hall that was swathed in a long red Persian rug, dappled with white and gold embroidery. The front door was open, revealing sunlight streaming in. He hurried beyond it to see Lucy was already striding down the driveway. “I’m coming, all right?” he called after her, running and reaching her side quickly.

She turned her head to him with her traditional smirk in place. Much shorter than he was, she still held her chin high with a good deal of self-confidence.

“I knew the faster I left, the faster you would follow,” she said with a giggle.

“Hmm, it worries me sometimes how easily you make me dance for you. Well, if it’s a walk and some exercise you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” He shook his head and hurried ahead down the driveway with her in hot pursuit.

When they were a little distance from the house, he looked back, surveying the surroundings. They really did have a beautiful home. The Meadowbank estate was a grand one indeed. Built scarcely a hundred years before out of red brick, it towered in the landscape with triangular roofs and little white turrets here and there. The white accents in the brick work and around the windows shone in the strong sunlight of the day. The most recognizable part of the house was the white clocktower at the very center and top of the building, as it was the tallest part of the house and could be seen for miles around.

At the end of the pebbled driveway, the house slipped out of view as they descended into woodland. The main forest Lucy had begged him to explore with her was a little distance away, but one of the most popular spots nearby for walkers. Commonly nicknamed Mystic’s Wood, each curve in the path through the woodland revealed new wonders and anomalies in the trees, such as effigies carved into the bark of trees or a river that appeared out of nowhere and passed through a stone shaped perfectly like devil’s horns.

“Why do you go drinking so often with Peter?” Lucy’s words startled Walter so much that he whipped his head round, nearly slipping on tree roots as they stepped deeper into the woodland.

“I daresay you’ll discover such enjoyments when you’re older,” he said with a low voice.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever enjoy drinking as much as you do.” She scrunched up her nose in disgust. He was rather relieved she didn’t know the hidden meaning of his words. For after he and Peter had gone drinking, he’d spent most of the night in the company of one of the barmaids from the ale house. That was the enjoyment he had been referring to, and he certainly didn’t want Lucy thinking of such things.

“Well, I’m pleased to hear it,” he acknowledged. “You do realize after your debut when you attend events of the Season, you’ll be offered punch, wine and goodness knows what else.”

“That I hope will be put off for as long as possible.”

“Surely you do not mean that?” Walter said with amazement in his voice. “I know you’re not yet ready for it, but all we need do is find you a governess who is willing to help.”

“Oh right, for that went so well last time, didn’t it?” Lucy’s voice suddenly lost all sense of jesting and she turned to look at him with her arms open wide. Walter paused in the walk and looked back to her in surprise. “The last one said I was as feral as a wild dog.”

Walter bristled at the recollection of the words; they were cruel indeed.

“Not all governesses will be like that one,” he assured her and beckoned Lucy to continue their walk. “We’ll find you a governess who is much kinder than that.”

“Someone kind who is willing to put up with a girl compared to a feral dog? Pah!” Lucy scoffed. “No such governess exists, I am sure.”

Walter smiled and tried to bring some cheer to the moment as he placed a hand around Lucy’s shoulder and bumped her against his side in a brotherly gesture.

“Wait and see. You never know who’s going to be around the corner.”

***

Mary lugged the bag behind her again, but it just dropped to the floor, as heavy and sodden as her own dress was. She paused and looked up at the sky, pushing the strands of wet brown hair out of her eyes and away from her damp cheeks. Up until an hour before, it had been raining heavily. Now, the sky didn’t have a cloud in it and the bright blue shone above her, practically mocking her drenched state.

How has my life come to this?

She looked down at the dress, far too fine to be wearing when trudging through a woodland alone, drenched to the bone. Her slipper-style shoes with the small heels were now covered in so much dirt that it had reached up around the edges of the shoes and slipped in, dirtying her stockings. Even the petticoats beneath her dress were damp with the mud riding up far past the hem.

“Come on,” she talked to the bag as though it were an animated thing, live and well that could talk back to her. “I will not let you drag me down.” She heaved it onto her shoulder, the bag slapped against her back, making her topple sideways from the weight, but not quite fall over. She winced and carried on, wading through the damp mud and puddles.

She knew had it not been for the coach driver throwing her out that she could be far away from this place by now. She could be onto the next county, Norfolk perhaps, and far away from London, but it was not to be. The coachman had given her the heave-ho, quite literally, as she didn’t have enough money to pay him. So, she had been abandoned in this strange wood in the middle of Suffolk with nothing but her bag for company.

“Well, what are we going to do now then?” she asked as though the bag would reply to her. “I think I’ve already gone mad, as I’m talking to you. That’s worrying enough in itself.”

She sighed again, paused and looked up to the sky, hoping a brilliant idea would appear between the branches of the trees, yet nothing did. “At least I am away from London.” She tried to take comfort in this idea as she strode forward, walking through a dense thicket of trees.

In truth, she could take little comfort in it at this time. Running had only got her into this situation, where there were little prospects and only the seeping coldness of her damp clothes.

“This is hopeless,” she muttered to herself as her feet stuck in the mud. Almost trapped, she had to jerk her legs forward and she hurried forward, nearly falling another time before she dropped the bag to the ground.

Tears were threatening to fall, but she wouldn’t let them. She placed the backs of her hands to her eyes, trying to stop those tears from coming as she lifted her head and looked at her new surroundings.

The dense thicket had opened a little now into a clearing where there was a river. Startled by its appearance, she whipped her head round, watching as the babbling stream that echoed against the stone bank either side of it past under a giant rock. Built of flint stone, it appeared to be carved into something that looked like a pair of devil’s horns.

“What is this place?” she whispered into the air, leaving her bag behind her as she moved forward to the stone in wonder.

Other times, she would have found it beautiful. Yet today, the devil’s horns seemed to be an omen, making her wonder why she had come here at all.

To avoid living a lifetime in hell. Remember that.

She breathed deeply as her eyes danced across the stone, watching intently. No matter what the omen, this was preferable to the life she had before. The one where two nights ago, she had felt such fear and terror that it had forced her to flee. Two nights without sleep and barely any food was preferable to being back in London.

She looked down at her clothes that were dirtied and clinging to her body. There was one good thing out of this day. Freedom. If her parents could only see her now, they would undoubtedly be horrified that their perfect, lady-like daughter, the one they had carved to be like a fine marble statue, would behave in such a way.

She was about to laugh at the idea when she heard something. She darted her head to the side, looking around the devil-horned stone to see what the source was, but she lost her footing. Slipping in the wet soil, she began to fall forward. She reached out her arms to break her fall, but it was too late. She came down at the side of the riverbank where the line of stones sat and felt her head crack against hard rock.

She tried to move but she couldn’t. Nothing happened at all and even her fingers refused to move. Then her eyes closed, and the world went black.

Chapter 2

“This way,” Lucy called. “The rock is round here.”

“It’s strange you find such fascination in it.” Walter shook his head.

“I think this place is amazing,” she giggled and pushed on ahead, walking a few feet in front of him avoiding the path entirely and pushing between the trees. “The quickest way back from here is the track with the carved faces too. The ones in the trees that all seem to be watching you.”

Walter laughed at the idea. Clearly the people in the village nearby had had far too much time on their hands over the years to whittle such scary faces in the tree trunks.

“Walter!” Lucy suddenly screamed his name.

He didn’t ask what was wrong, he just lurched ahead, sensing the note of panic in his sister’s voice at once. He pushed past the silver birch trees with the pale white bark and appeared at his sister’s side, nudging her shoulder in the effort to reach her quickly.

“Lucy?” he asked, his voice piercing with concern. She lifted a shaky hand and pointed ahead. He turned to follow the gesture.

At the bottom of the devil horns and prostrate out on the earth was a woman.

“Zounds!” Walter exclaimed and ran forward. He didn’t hesitate, he just dropped down at the woman’s side, reaching for her quickly. There was blood pooling a little beneath her head on the stone. She had to have fallen and struck her head there.

He gently lifted her head, inspecting the wound as carefully as he could. The skull wasn’t broken, to his relief, but she was bleeding from the bump and may well have a concussion.

“What has happened to her?” Lucy asked in shrill panic from where she stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“Perhaps she has fallen,” he said gently, not wanting to return her head to the ground.

“Here? Of all places, here!” Lucy gestured to the devil-horned stone.

“This is not the time for superstitions, Lucy,” Walter said off-handedly, just as his eyes drifted down from the woman’s wound to her face. He felt his breath hitch at the sight.

Her brown hair had fallen mostly out of its bun and was long, practically reaching down to her waist. A few loose wet strands hung about her face and were now plastered to alabaster white cheeks. The bones of these cheeks were high, creating a regal and ornamental face. The nose was gently sloping, and the lips were bold compared to the rest of the face. Such lips, he’d rarely seen before.

He snapped his gaze away, realizing just how awful it was for him to be considering the stranger’s beauty at a time like this.

“Lucy, we need to get help. A physician.” His mind was working quickly, leading his sentences to come out short and staccato.

“It’s a fair walk back to the house,” Lucy said miserably, walking around the woman and dropping down to her other side. She placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and softly tried to stir her. “Can you wake up? Please, please wake up?”

Walter watched the woman’s face as he cradled her injured head for any sign of movement, but there wasn’t a flicker in her cheeks.

“She’s out cold,” he said tightly. He moved slightly, kneeling a little straighter, knowing now was the time for action and they had to be quick, in case she was hurt worse than he feared. “You mentioned the quickest path back to the house.”

“Yes?” Lucy said, looking up to meet his gaze.

“Take it. Run as fast as you can,” he said, moving his stance as he prepared himself to lift the woman. “Don’t stop if you see any stranger.”

“I don’t think we need the stranger conversation right now!” she gestured to the current situation, making him wince.

“I know, I know. I’m your brother. Looking out for you is what I do,” he pointed out quickly. “Take the path and get home as quickly as possible. Get Father to call for a physician. I’ll be right behind you.”

Lucy nodded and jumped to her feet, then she hovered, nearly tripping over something.

“This must be her bag,” she said, lifting it slightly. “Oh my, it’s heavy.”

“Then we’ll come back for it later. Go. Now.” He ordered. This time, she didn’t hesitate, and she ran off down the nearest track.

Once she was gone, Walter turned his gaze back to the beautiful stranger, his eyes tarrying for a while on the woman’s bold features.

“I am sorry about this,” he murmured softly, “but I can think of no other way to get you to safety.” He knew it was an imposition to carry a woman so, especially a stranger, but he was trapped. He just needed to get her to help as soon as possible.

He shifted his position, releasing the gentle hold on her head at last so that he could adjust his grasp. He slipped one arm under her waist and the other under the crook of her knees, then he slowly lifted her up into his arms and stood to his feet.

The task was not easy for she was tall, but her slender form made her quite light to carry. Her dress was sodden, he wondered how she was not shivering beneath it. That’s when he pressed her body against his own, the better to carry her with.

He was acutely aware then of the sharing body heat between them. Yet it was a heat beyond what should have been normal. It came because he couldn’t stop thinking of the woman’s beautiful face. It was a surreal sensation, one he was not used to feeling.

Furious at himself, he looked back down to her features again. It struck him rather how like a fairy she was. It all made sense, appearing in the Mystic’s Wood in such a way. He cursed himself for being so distracted by her.

“This is about her life, you fool,” he muttered under his breath. “Get her home. At once.”

He hitched her higher in his arms and turned to the track Lucy had just taken, walking down it as quickly as he could. In this way, it would take some time, but with a little luck, by the time he was home, the physician would be on the way too.

Despite his determination not to be distracted by the woman’s beauty, his eyes slipped to her face that was now flung backwards, more than once. The fact that this woman was alone in the middle of a woods felt odd to him. The kind of protectiveness he usually associated with Lucy emerged in him, only it was particularly strong, almost electrifyingly so now.

“Who are you, Fairy of the Woods?” he muttered, starting forward again.

***

Mary couldn’t open her eyes, but she could hear movement. Every time she tried to lift her head and even move a single finger, she couldn’t; her entire body was paralyzed. She felt her breathing grow faster with the frustration and panic of not being able to move.

“There is no need to fear,” a deep voice rumbled against her. She grew aware of the body pressed against her own.

Who is that?

Her breath grew even quicker. She tried to push away from whoever was carrying her, yet still her body refused to abide by her will.

“I’ve got you,” the deep voice came again, even gentler this time. “You’ll be safe now. Don’t you worry.”

He said words she’d longed to hear, and her breathing settled a little. Whoever was carrying her, they clearly had no intention of hurting her.

She focused all her energy on opening her eyes. This time, they flickered open. Unable to lift her head up from the carried position, she could see the world upside down. They were walking past trees and through long grass, heading somewhere.

“Not long now, Fairy of the Woods. I’ll get you there soon,” he spoke again. The name perked Mary’s ear. The stranger had given her a mystical name, one that felt odd. Then she felt his hands move, holding her tighter to him.

To her amazement, heat spread through her body. Whether it was because of the pressure of his hands, one under her knees and the other on the curve just above her waistline, or because of his soothing gravelly voice, she wasn’t sure.

She decided not to think too much about it. Lots was happening right now and all she wanted to think of was the safety in this stranger’s arms.

When his hand adjusted on her knee, moving closer to her thigh, she could feel the heat of those fingers through the layers of her gown. A coil of excitement spiraled in her stomach before shooting much lower.

Why do I feel like this?

She couldn’t believe that sensation of excitement. She couldn’t even see the stranger carrying her and for him to cause such a feeling didn’t make sense. He could look like a gargoyle for all she knew, twisted with a stone-like face and as grey and ashen too, unyielding.

She imagined that was what was really happening to her. That a great beast-like gargoyle with giant stone wings and a curled lip with sharp teeth was carrying her between the trees.

As though in answer to her thought, the trees they were walking past changed. Where smooth birch tree trunks had been before, holes had been carved into the trunks that bore grisly and grotesque faces.

She tried to recoil away from the sight of them, but she couldn’t, her body still refusing to move. She was forced to let her eyes flick from one face to the next, looking between surreal and contorted features. One face was dominated by large eyes and missing its nose, another had great black eyebrows that circled down past its cheeks, and another had teeth the size of hands.

At one point, she was certain one of these carved faces was staring straight back at her. Fear jolted through her stomach, and she tried to recoil away again. This time, her body managed to twitch, but that was all.

“I’ve got you,” the stranger’s voice came again. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Sighing, Mary closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of the twisted faces and focusing on the calming depth of the stranger’s voice instead. In his arms at least, she was safe. That sensation was overwhelming to her.

The safety of the gargoyle’s arms.

A few minutes later, more voices were nearby. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to reveal to anyone that she could stir just yet. Sounds changed, suggesting they were walking up some driveway and were no longer in a forest at all.

“Walter? What’s happened to her?” this man’s voice sounded older, with more gravitas and a gravelly tone to it.

“Her head is bleeding,” the stranger carrying her answered.

Walter. That’s his name.

“She fell and hit her head on some rocks. That’s how it looks, at least,” Walter said again, striding forward and still carrying her firmly in his arms. “Is the physician here?”

“He’s on his way now. Quick. Into the house. We’ll take her into the guest wing.”

There was a bustle around them and a clamor of voices, young ones with fear in their tones. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes, so she kept them closed and focused on the feeling of Walter’s arms around her.

“Where do you think she came from?” a girl’s voice asked from nearby.

“Who knows,” a boy answered. “She must be someone of importance though.”

“Have you seen her dress?” the girl said, with apparent amazement.

Mary cursed herself for not considering changing into something demure before fleeing her parents’ home in London. If this family reported her to the magistrate because they thought her a fine lady, then she would be delivered back to London within days. After all, how many wealthy ladies would have fled their homes in this manner? They would discover who she was quickly enough. She couldn’t let that happen.

She’d lived that fear and gone through it all to escape. She wasn’t going to go back now. She had to find a way to hide the truth of who she was.

That was when an idea occurred to her. If she didn’t appear to know the truth either, then there was little chance anyone would have of linking her to her past. Appearing in that vulnerable state too, if she was lucky, these people might take pity on her and let her stay in the house whilst she recovered.

If I recover.

She had to pray she would and that the strike to her head wasn’t too bad. Her mind returned to her plan, pushing this awful thought away.

Maybe if these people took her in, she could even work for them for a while. Perhaps as a maid, she could learn the trade and she would work hard to prove her value. First, she would just have to convince them she knew no more who she was than they did.

Memory loss.

Without specifics to give to a magistrate, there would be no way she could be handed back to her parents.

The voices grew louder abruptly. One at a time, they all called up ideas of where she should be placed. Some were far too close, and she even felt someone pull at her skirt. Out of fear, she tried to move again, still, nothing happened, but her body twitched just once.

“Quiet!” Walter’s voice boomed across the others, vibrating against her body. She tried to press her body closer to his, taking comfort in it. “None of this is helping. Harry, open that door. She needs to rest. Aaron, when the physician comes, you bring him up here at once. Understand?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Now stand back.” Walter strode forward with her again, carrying her close.

Mary’s mind was made up. Sadly, it would mean lying for a while, even to the gargoyle in whose arms she felt so safe, but her future safety depended on it.

This will be my life from now on.

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