“But how could I be one of these Elementals?” Dawn could accept a nearly three-hundred-year-old suitor crafted by a divine hand, but naming her as some sort of supernatural creature as well took things too far. She was a mouse scuttling in the dark on the world’s stage and not a person of any importance or with any special abilities.

Gentle humour simmered in Lord Seton’s grey eyes and his lips twitched. “It is a simple matter of deduction and elimination to place you as a Meidh. I would know if you were an earth elemental, and besides you are not of the broad build of gargoyles. While you have some of the fluidity of an undine, for all the time you sat by the lake you never dived in. You also have brown eyes instead of an undine’s watery shades.”

“I can’t swim,” Dawn murmured.

One eyebrow arched. “As I said, you’re not an undine. Sylphs are tall and elegant but full of hot air, which enables them to fly, and have eyes the colour of the sky. Salamanders are often shorter and solid. Their skin is darker, they wield fire and generally have a red tint to their hair and amber flecks in their eyes. Again not a description that fits you. Once I eliminate the four elements, that only leaves the fifth – quintessence or a Meidh.”

Dawn walked back to the chaise. While she followed his rationale, she still tried to grasp how it was possible. Mutations could appear in plants, was she something similar? “Can a Meidh spontaneously appear with no knowledge of what they are?”

Lord Seton shook his head. “Like pollinating plants, the offspring is tied to the parent. Either your mother or father must have been an Elemental, or more likely a Meidh.”

Dawn tallied the evidence scattered in her upbringing. Her mother’s ability to sift truth from lies. She’d told stories of mythical creatures that echoed what Lord Seton had told her, and most telling, her mother had named the raven in the garden as a watcher with a stone master. Once again, Dawn wished for a few more moments with her mother. There were so many questions she needed to answer, and Dawn was left fumbling in the dark when it came to her heritage. A steady thrum took up residence in her head and refused to budge. She pressed a hand to her temple as the headache built. “If you don’t mind, I have heard enough for tonight. I have so much to contemplate.”

He rose and held out a hand to her. “Of course. Shall we have a quiet dinner and discuss other things?”

“Yes, please.” Pressure built inside her head, and she didn’t think her skull could contain any more incredible tales. Talk of the mundane would help the pain behind her eyes, and now that she was appointed landscape designer, there were many ordinary things to discuss.

Dawn hesitated to put her hand in his. She didn’t want to see the Cor-vitis. Not tonight. Lord Seton saw her falter, and disappointment flashed through his eyes before he placed his hands behind his back. They walked together to the silent dining room where a simple meal was laid out, one they could serve themselves without a hovering footman.

Over dinner, Dawn asked about the textile mill that kept the villagers employed, and then they discussed turning the glasshouse into an orangery and where to source citrus plants.

Lord Seton laid down his knife and fork. “The shop in the village will have gardening catalogues. I can take you there tomorrow if you wish to start sending away for the plants. They will take some weeks to get here, plenty of time for the lads to clear space.”

She couldn’t help the smile on her face. “A ride out with my suitor. Will we not require a chaperone, Lord Seton?” Wasn’t that what he was now, her suitor? Or could she call him a beau? If Warders even courted women like mortal men.

He arched one eyebrow. “Bring Mouse. And as your suitor, I insist you call me Jasper. I’ve had enough of Lord Seton.”

Now it was her turn to frown. “That wouldn’t be proper. Even married couples rarely use Christian names. I could address you as Seton?”

“Jasper,” he growled. “Warders don’t follow society’s rules; we obey a higher authority.”

On the walk back to the cottage, Dawn raised one last question. “I would like to speak to Lettie. Dr Day thought it would be permissible.”

“Tomorrow, I shall bring her out in the garden to meet you. You may keep the dress, Lettie doesn’t mind. Until tomorrow, Dawn.” He reached for her and claimed her lips in a soft, tender kiss that set an ache alight in her chest. His touch was so gentle it was as though he asked a hesitant question of her, seeking her permission to advance.

Dawn didn’t possess the skills in love play to know how to respond, so she leaned closer to him and lifted her head. She hoped he read the tilt of her chin as acceptance. He deepened the kiss for a mere moment before breaking away to stroke her face.

“Until tomorrow,” Dawn whispered, unable to say his Christian name aloud. Then she skipped into the cottage and shut the solid door against the world outside.

If Lettie screamed that night, Dawn never heard it. She was too lost in her own dream world. Mythical creatures emerged from the mist and battled one another. Some were fiery-winged demons, others were stone gargoyles of enormous size. Under a large tree, a raven watched from its perch on her mother’s shoulder. When Dawn turned to her mother to ask a question, she raised a finger to her lips.

Morning arose and Dawn found herself oddly both exhausted and exhilarated. Her mind struggled to comprehend all that Lord Seton – Jasper – told her, yet at the same time life erupted with shoots of new possibilities before her. As she ate a quiet breakfast, she found satisfaction in having one answer that she correctly guessed. The tray appeared when she roused because the raven spied on her and relayed her movements. Or as the earl explained it, the raven was the pull on the parlour bell for those below stairs to answer.

“What of you, Mouse? Are you a creature from mythology with an extraordinary lifespan?” she asked her companion.

Mouse lifted his shaggy brows then dropped them back down again. Dawn wasn’t sure what that meant. The dog might just be a dog. Marjory and Hector seemed to progress through the years like any other person. She needed to start a new page in her notebook to keep track of such questions that cropped up.

If she was indeed one of these Meidh, then she had a responsibility to restore balance on the Ravenswing estate. To do that, first she needed to understand how Ava had affected the garden.

Her attention dropped to the scratch over her wrist. The black line had turned into a smudge like a fingertip through ink. The inch-long mark was a bright red and hot to the touch. Dawn placed her fingers at either side and squeezed. Fire raced around her wrist, but a droplet of white muck pushed through the gash. Gritting her teeth, she pressed a bit harder, and another spurt erupted containing the black tip of a thorn.

“Eww,” Dawn muttered and picked up a cloth to bathe the wound. Perhaps now she had removed the invading speck of vine, the wound would heal.

Breakfasted, washed, and dressed, she headed out to find her workforce in the cobbled yard before the stables. Today she set the men to continue their slow work burning through the vine enclosing the maze and dragging away the sections. When the entrance was clear enough, they would begin trimming the tall hedges. Dawn’s mood lightened to think she would soon advance on her enemy.

As she turned back to the big house, Lord Seton and a companion appeared across the lawn. Lady Letitia seemed delicate and fragile compared to his broad frame. She leaned close to him, her arm tucked in his. She was dressed in a pale yellow gown that flowed around her legs. Today her dark hair was plaited and then wound around her head.

Nurse Hatton trailed behind, a leather satchel over her shoulder and a worried look on her face. Elijah walked next to the nurse and wore the grin of a youth who had escaped the classroom for the day.

Dawn approached the family slowly, so as not to startle the other woman.

“Good morning, Lord Seton. Hello, Lady Letitia,” she said in a soft tone.

The woman turned her face into her brother’s jacket and whispered something.

His grey gaze met Dawn’s over the top of the undine’s head. “I think you should say that to Dawn yourself, Lettie. I’m not going to act as go-between, I’m sure two women are quite capable of conversing between themselves.”

Lettie’s head shot up and she frowned – obviously a family trait. Then her head turned to Dawn, and she had eyes of blue tinged with green, like the deep waters of a lake. “Please call me Lettie. I hate being called Lady Letitia.”

Lord Seton made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a scoff. “And I have asked her to call me Jasper, but Dawn seems a stickler for the rules contained in etiquette books.”

Dawn met his serious stare. Her parents would have conniptions to hear her address nobles so informally. “I shall try, but I make no promises. Shall we stroll toward the wildflower meadow? I’d love to pick some flowers.”

A wide smile replaced Lady Letitia’s frown in an instant. “Oh, yes. I love it there. Jasper never lets me climb the trees like Elijah is allowed to do.” She stuck her tongue out at her brother, detached from his side, and reached for Dawn’s arm.

Dawn took her hand. “I have always wanted to learn to climb a tree. Do you think Elijah could teach me?”

Laughter shone in Lord Seton’s eyes, but he kept his lips under control. “I have mill business to attend to in the library. I will join you when I have finished.”

Lettie waved her hand at her brother. “Off you go to your boring paperwork. Dawn and I have a wildflower meadow to explore.”

The earl leaned close and grazed Dawn’s cheek with his lips as he whispered by her ear, “You’ll be fine. Hatton knows what to do if she becomes upset.”

“We shall have a bouquet to present to you when you return,” Dawn said. Then her attention slid to Hatton and she thought of another question to write down in her notebook. How much did Hatton and Hector know about the family? How did it feel to grow old and fade while your charges remained youthful and beautiful?

Lettie tugged on her arm. “Come on, we have much to talk about. The watchers can see us, but they have to be close to hear us.”

“I was worried you did not like me being here,” Dawn said as they walked along the lime chip path.

“You shouldn’t have come here. I tried to warn you to go away.” Lettie’s voice trailed away as she stared over her shoulder.

“Well I am here now, and I quite like Ravenswing Manor.” She particularly liked the heated kisses of its lord and wondered when she might steal another. Perhaps under a shady tree on their drive to the village.

Lady Letitia let go of her hand and ran ahead. Dawn reached for her, but Elijah took off after her. The young man was more adept at keeping up with his fleeing aunt. Dawn watched the two figures disappear around a curve in the path as Nurse Hatton caught up with her.

“She’s always much calmer with a turn in the meadow. Master Elijah will keep an eye on her until we get there. My knees don’t work like they used to. Rheumatism is catching up with me.” Marjory looped her arm through Dawn’s, and for a woman with bad knees, set a cracking pace.

“How have you borne it for decades that they don’t age? Do you not think it is unfair?” There was an unpleasant realisation. Would she wither and shrivel into an old crone while Lord Seton stayed in his prime?

Marjory’s hand tightened on her arm. “Ah. So you have discovered the family’s wee secret.”

Dawn bit back a laugh. “I suspect the whole village knows. How do you disguise the fact they do not age? Elijah has taken forty years to grow from a babe to a young man.”

Marjory’s pace slowed as she considered her response. “The earl once told me they take fifty years to reach maturity. Master Elijah was in nappies for so long I thought it was some eternal punishment for my wandering eye as a girl. But we are a close-knit community here. The family protects us and we protect them. There is no need for anyone outside of the village to know.”

“I still don’t know if I believe it or not.” She walked through a dream plucked from a story, but this one was not found in any book. Instead it was a tale whispered from lips to ears and passed down through the millennia.

“You have time for the truth to settle into your bones. I think it took me quite a few years before I stopped pinching myself, I was so convinced I was going mad,” Marjory said.

Lord Seton said they had time to become better acquainted, but did they really? He had centuries to wait while she clutched only a handful of years. Her lifespan was that of a summer butterfly compared to a tortoise. How many paramours had he seen bloom and wither over the centuries? “There is so much I need to understand, but I worry what Jasper is not telling me.”

“Jasper is it? Well, it seems I might owe that old goat Hector another kiss.” Marjory laughed, a rich throaty sound that belied her years.

The earl’s name had slipped over Dawn’s lips while she was mulling the bigger problem. A faint blush heated her skin at using the familiar term, but at least he hadn’t overhead. “What bet have you and Hector been making?”

Marjory turned to her and grinned. “Hector said you were just what the estate and Lord Seton had been searching for. I said he was daft. He wagered me a kiss if I were wrong.” Then the older woman winked. “Of course I actually agreed with him, but that would go to his head. Plus this way I get to protest about having to kiss him again.”

The two women laughed and soon emerged into the open meadow. Elijah picked flowers while Lady Letitia’s yellow gown flashed between the branches of an oak. Seeing the other woman behave like a young girl made it easier to think of her as Lettie. Whereas Lord Seton, with his perpetual frown, suited his more formal name.

Dawn walked to the tree and placed a hand on the trunk. She peered up through the foliage. “Are you having fun up there? I’m not sure I could make it up in these skirts.”

Her thick cotton skirt was stiff and unwieldy, and she doubted she could hoist the fabric up around her thighs to climb a tree like Lettie did in her flimsy silk gown.

“I like the old trees because they don’t say much, but I much prefer the lake,” Lettie called from high above.

Dawn understood her preference. Ancient trees always seemed to her like old and wise sentinels. Except for the poor elderly citizens of the forest walk battling the invasive vine. There they had turned from sentinels to soldiers. The brave old trees might be why the vine hadn’t touched the lake area.

“I’m not mad, you know,” Lettie said from her perch in the tree.

“No one ever said you were.” Dawn didn’t think that was a lie. No one had said to her outright they thought the earl’s sister mad. It was certainly thought and inferred, but that wasn’t quite the same thing as saying it aloud.

Lettie jumped down to the ground and pulled leaves from her plaits. They wreathed her head and made her look like a forest sprite.

“It’s her. She poisons everything, and she has tendrils in my mind that I cannot pull out. But no one believes me.” Lettie thumped her fists against the side of her head and let out a soft yelp.

Dawn reached out and took Lettie’s hands to still the frantic motion. Hatton reached into her satchel, but Dawn shook her head no. This was important. “Her? Do you mean Ava?”

Dawn glanced around, expecting to see a snake creep through the grass at mention of the unseen woman’s name, but there was no sign of her woody minion in the meadow.

“Yes.” Lettie’s eyes were wide pools. “First she poisoned Julian, then she reached for me and Jasper. All the while she spreads the horrible vine that strangles and deforms everything it touches.”

Dawn blew out a sigh. She finally understood what she battled, a woman wielding nature as her weapon. Well, Ravenswing was under Dawn’s care and protection now. Ava sounded like a blight that needed to be cut out. “What if I told you I intended to defeat her and make the garden harmonious again?”

The jerky movement of Lettie’s fists stopped and tears welled up in her eyes. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.” Lettie pulled on Dawn’s left arm and turned her hand to reveal the angry red mark on her wrist. “She has poisoned you too.”

Dawn inhaled a quick gasp and tugged her hand free. “This is just a scratch from gardening, nothing more.” She scoffed at the idea of being poisoned, but her fingers rubbed at the cut.

Dawn had no idea what sort of battle she was embarking upon, but perhaps that ignorance gave her a certain level of confidence. If she could distil everything down to a gardening concept, then she had some hope of tackling the problem. Jasper had said Lettie’s problem was tied to the state of the garden. If Ava had stolen Lettie’s senses, then Dawn would retrieve them. And she would expel whatever poison the vine tried to spread under her skin.

Dawn glanced to Elijah, picking cornflowers. Poor lad, how could she plot the removal of his mother without giving him a say in her downfall?

“We never know what we can achieve if we don’t try.” She might fail, or she might bring peace back to this troubled family, but for the first time in her life, she had a larger purpose.

“You should never have come here. It’s too dangerous.” Lettie shook her head.

Danger was a relative concept. Dawn could have expired climbing the stairs in Whetstone. The threat of death had hung over her all her life and somewhere lost sting. “Life is fraught, Lettie. None of us know what dangers lurk around the next corner. We simply live our lives the best we can.”

“No, you don’t understand. You should have stayed hidden where they couldn’t find you. Here, the garden will reveal what you truly are.” Lettie wrung her hands as though she tried to remove something from her skin.

“What do you mean? Who will find me?” Dawn wanted to dismiss the woman’s ravings, but a familiar cold dread stroked between her shoulder blades.

Lettie turned back to the oak. She huddled against its rough trunk. “The Soarers didn’t know about you. You were hidden so long as you stayed in Whetstone.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Who are the Soarers?” Her book about the elementals was going to need an index with all these strange terms explained.

“Soarers are the other side of the pendulum. The sylphs and salamanders. Here, you will be exposed. You’re not safe. Jasper couldn’t save Julian, and he won’t be able to save you.” Lettie’s voice rose as she became agitated. “The Soarers killed your parents, and now you have stepped into the open, they will find you.”

Cold water rushed down Dawn’s spine. “You are mistaken. My parents died in a terrible accident.” She glanced to Elijah, who abandoned picking flowers and walked back to them, a frown so like his uncle’s marring his young brow.

Lettie turned so her back rested against the tree and waved her hands in the air. “It was a trap. Did you not wonder why your parents didn’t get out of the carriage when the train bore down on them?”

Dawn gasped for air as her heart tightened and strained as the pain of loss flooded back through her. “You’re wrong. It was an accident. There was a heavy fog that afternoon and they never saw the train. Why are you saying such things?”

She had thought Lettie wanted to establish a friendship. Why would she invent such horrid lies about how her parents died? It was cruel. Her parents had been quiet and respectable members of their town.

A silent no whispered from Dawn’s throat. She couldn’t listen to anymore or the fractured woman would pull her down into her madness. She needed to think, to sort through the riot Lettie’s words stirred up. She needed the tranquillity of the lake.

She turned and ran, trusting that Nurse Hatton and Elijah would settle Lettie. Dawn’s feet pounded the forest path. Mouse barked and loped at her side, keeping pace in case she faltered and needed to draw on his size and strength. Dawn learned that speed was the best way to cope with the suffocating growth on the heavy wooded paths, and she tucked her head down and kept running as tears spilled down her cheeks.

Had Soarers murdered her parents?