Following the principle that many hands make light work, Dawn decided to take a liberty with the earl’s permission to hire a few men. She hoped he concurred with her math that nearly a dozen men would do the work quicker than just four employed for longer. Plus, it meant the garden might be wrested under control in a few weeks, rather than months. If she had a limited allotment of time to achieve her goal, then she wanted to make as much progress as possible before she found herself unemployed and homeless.

Once the men were given their orders to report to the estate the following day, Dawn accompanied Hector on a few errands. He stopped at the blacksmith and then the post office. She was growing used to the retainer’s grim appearance and enjoyed the humour that lurked under his cadaver-like face.

He emerged from the post office with a small parcel, and a toothless grin lit his face.

“What do you have there?” Dawn asked. The way he clutched the paper-wrapped object piqued her curiosity.

“Mail for Nurse Hatton from her niece. I’m going to demand a kiss before I hand it over.” Then his grin grew even larger until deep lines radiated from the corners of his eyes.

Dawn found herself smiling at the aged romance and wondered if he would be rewarded or swatted. Chores done for the morning, Hector turned the cob and cart back toward Ravenswing. On the road to the estate, they passed Dr Day leaving on the handsome chestnut. Both horses halted in the shade created by tall trees on either side of the track. Boughs touched above their heads in a leafy umbrella.

“How is Lady Letitia today, and did you have an opportunity to broach the possibility of a walk in the garden?” Dawn asked once the usual pleasantries were out of the way. Against her better judgement, hope flared in her chest that she might find a friend or companion in the troubled woman. She had never possessed a close woman friend and always wondered what it might be like to have someone to share whispered confidences.

A frown flitted across the doctor’s brow, and he wiped it away with one hand. “She will need a few more days, Miss Uxbridge. The change in her routine has her somewhat agitated. Let her become accustomed to your presence at the estate first.”

“Oh. I understand.” Disappointment plunged through Dawn. The earl’s sister truly did not want her on the property, and Dawn would continue her existence without a friend.

“Time, Miss Uxbridge. Just give her a little time.” He doffed his hat and told the gelding to walk on.

Dawn let out a sigh. Mouse nudged against her from behind and she stroked his head.

“Miss Lettie hasn’t got a bad bone in her body. We’d all like to see her restored to the laughing girl she once was.” Hector kept his eyes on the road ahead, and his words were matter-of-fact but with a faint tinge of sadness.

“What happened to her?” Dawn always thought mad people were born that way, but had some circumstance driven Lady Letitia to the brink of insanity?

Hector huffed. “She was always a gentle soul, loved both her brothers. Losing Lord Julian was too much for her.”

There was something Dawn could grasp and understand. Grief twisted in both one’s body and mind. She rested her cheek on the top of Mouse’s head. She wanted to ask how Lord Julian died and whether it was so gruesome that it drove his younger sister mad, but that wasn’t the polite thing to ask. She picked a different question instead.

“Was it very recent?”

“No, years ago. It was just weeks before Master Elijah was born. Poor lad never knew his father, and Lord Julian never knew his son. But don’t you go prying, the family is very tight about such things.” Hector cast her a serious look.

“I had no intention of prying. I simply didn’t want to say the wrong thing and cause offence.” Well, possibly she wanted to do a tiny bit of prying, but surely it was only natural to be curious when immersed in such a family?

Hector’s shoulders shook in a silent laugh as though he guessed her motives, but he remained tight-lipped about his employer for the rest of the journey home.

Back at Ravenswing, Dawn ate a quiet lunch in the cottage while scanning the botany books for any information on the Ravensblood tree or the rampant vine. Her study was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. Mouse looked up and his shaggy eyebrows raised in what Dawn assumed was the dog equivalent of a shrug. Since he didn’t offer so much as a ghost of a woof, it must be someone he knew on her doorstep.

She pushed the book away. Its pages had no information to reveal anyway, and she needed a distraction after so long bent over the table. Behind the door she found Elijah, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and wearing an unbuttoned waistcoat in the barest minimum of suitable dress for a noble son. Legitimate or not. He wore a straw boater on his head, which he took off when she appeared.

“I have escaped the schoolroom if you wish to find the hermitage.” A warm smile lit both his lips and eyes.

He was a handsome lad, and on closer inspection, not too many years younger than her. Dawn could see the family resemblance between him and his uncle, if only the latter ever smiled. Was there likewise a strong resemblance between Elijah’s father and uncle? Unless she could find a painting or photograph of Julian, her curiosity would go unsatisfied.

“Certainly, I’ll just fetch my hat and notebook,” she said.

While she found her straw sunhat and stuffed a notebook and pencil in her apron, Mouse shuffled forward and licked Elijah’s hand. He fussed over the large dog and ruffled furry ears.

“If you don’t want to carry everything around the estate, Mouse here can pull a cart,” Elijah said as she stepped over the threshold and pulled the door shut.

“I imagine he could, but I couldn’t treat him as a pack animal.” He was the same size as a small pony and she could easily see him pulling a brightly coloured cart containing laughing children.

“Not even saddle bags?” He swept his hands over Mouse’s side in a gesture to replicate bags hanging from either side.

“That would be handy if he could carry secateurs, trowels, and such like. But how does one ask a canine for their approval to do such a thing?” Surely the beast should have some say in how he was employed.

Elijah shrugged. “I suspect if he didn’t want to, he would have a way of letting you know.”

They took a path that headed east and skirted the unruly wood that had pressed on Dawn’s mind and robbed her of her senses. Instead they walked through a wildflower meadow. Here, neglect and chaos birthed a wild beauty. Flowers of riotous colours spilled across the landscape. An artist’s palette of pale yellows, vivid blues, deep pinks, and pure whites collided with one another and yet existed in a strange harmony. Fat bees buzzed between vibrant pink clover, blood red poppies, and ocean blue cornflowers.

“It’s lovely out here. I wouldn’t change a thing,” Dawn said, her hand skimming the tops of tall flowers and arching grasses.

“Uncle Jasper hates it. He keeps threatening to let the sheep loose in here to eat it all short, but Hector and I won’t let him.” Elijah cast her a mischievous look.

Dawn smiled. How could one be sad surrounded by such lovely blooms? “I wouldn’t think either of you would be fussed about a meadow of flowers.”

The youth shrugged in his casual manner. “Hector likes to pick them for Nurse Hatton, and the local girls like to come here and gather bunches too.” A slight blush rose from under his collar.

Dawn decided not to tease him about growing flowers to attract the local lasses. They were probably drawn to him like bees to the blooms. “I’m sure your aunt would appreciate them too. Does she walk the grounds much?”

“Not often, although Aunt Lettie loves the lake. She doesn’t like to be alone in the grounds after—” His voice trailed off. He snapped off a flower head and tossed it in the air, making it soar ahead of them.

Another topic of conversation to be avoided, or probably the same topic if it were related to the death of Lord Julian. “What can you tell me of the hermitage?”

The meadow ended at trees clustered along the base of a hill. From Dawn’s understanding of the layout, the serene lake was off to her left, through the trees. The water flowed down the hill and into the large pond. The hill was one of many that crowded along this side of the estate and ran backward into an even more mountainous landscape.

“It’s been overgrown for such a long time. It took me years of searching to find it.” Elijah led the way as they pushed through the trees to find a narrow path.

Dawn smiled to herself. His years of searching probably meant a few days or a summer at most. “Mouse and I searched through here yesterday but to no avail. It’s so overgrown.”

She hadn’t even noticed the path the day before. In the dappled light of the forest it seemed no more than an animal track, running from the hilltop down to the water. The oaks, elms, and birches laced hands and kept out most of the sunlight. Ferns scrambled around trunks and over jutting roots.

“Was it really the fashion to keep hermits in gardens?” Elijah glanced back as he held a branch out of her way.

“Yes. It was popular in Georgian times to keep a hermitage with a strange man who would spout philosophy or mystical ramblings at the well-bred ladies.” To Dawn, keeping a hermit in the garden was akin to chaining up a bear for entertainment – barbaric and outdated. Ladies should read books or find a more intellectual pursuit rather than laughing at unfortunates with no homes. Although if Lord Seton decided to fire her at the end of the week, perhaps she could take up residence in the hermitage.

The path angled upward and the landscape became more rock than grass. Dawn watched each step in case she slipped or tripped. Soon they were climbing over outcrops and pushing under heavy boughs but still circling upward. As she reached for a tree root to steady herself, she wondered at the oddity that the more she walked the grounds and exerted herself, the more invigorated she felt. Rather than weakening with the effort of tackling the large estate, she seemed to draw strength from the verdant growth around her.

Elijah paused and rested one hand on a mossy trunk. “Not much further.”

Mouse stuck to her side, and Dawn was grateful for his solid presence when she stumbled, knowing the dog would catch her until she found her balance again. The way before them became steeper and harder until they were no longer navigating an uneven path, but scrambling up a hillock. Dawn’s hands reached for something to grasp, and her troublesome skirts wrapped around her legs. She envied Elijah in his trousers and the easy way he hopped over outcrops like a goat.

Would it be too scandalous if she donned trousers for working in the garden? Some women wore long bloomers to ride bicycles. As long as no one saw her, she might be able to wear them. She should make a note to ask the earl’s permission.

The beat in her chest became louder as her body pumped more blood to enable her to keep up with the young man. Elijah stopped at the top of the hill and looked around. He appeared to be admiring the view, but Dawn suspected he was giving her time to reach his side and catch her breath. Mouse tried to stick next to her, but even the wolfhound struggled with the footing and took to bounding forward over obstacles.

At long last she made the top. Dawn looked around, trying to determine if there was an easier route to the hermitage. Georgian ladies would never have scrambled through the forest. They’d have either ridden their horses or taken a gentle stroll. Under all the undergrowth and composting leaves would be a wider and level path, they just had to find it.

Dawn stood tall, arched her back to relieve an ache in her spine, and silently congratulated herself on ascending what was surely the tallest hill in Cumberland.

Then the earth disappeared from under her feet.

Mouse howled as a sense of weightlessness engulfed her. The sky seemed to soar away from her as she dropped into a void. Elijah’s eyes widened and in the next instant, the lad lunged for her.

“No!” Dawn cried. Not a denial, but a warning to Elijah. She didn’t want her weight and momentum to pull him down into the hole with her. If they were both trapped – or worse, injured – who would raise the alarm? She had serious doubts about Mouse’s ability to fetch help or guard her.

Elijah pounced faster than she could comprehend and snatched at her hand as the ground devoured her. He arrested her sudden fall with a wrench through her shoulder. Dawn dangled with nothing under her feet, but tree roots, earth and sharp rock closely surrounded her body. The ground had collapsed beneath her and dust drifted up from far below.

Elijah grunted and almost pitched forward, and Dawn feared they would both fall down the hole. She flung out her free hand to grab a root or rock to steady herself.

“Ow!” She scraped her wrist on something and it pierced her skin. She glanced around and spotted a length of vine, one sharp thorn now sporting a red tip.

“Are you all right?” Elijah called down.

“Yes. Just a scratch.” Dawn glared at the plant, then she reached upward again and her fingers curled around a rock near the edge of the hole. As she steadied herself and began to heave her weight up, she discovered her hand hold wasn’t a rock but the toe of Elijah’s boot. He had become part of the hill, his boots and lower leg hard stone as though he rooted himself to the spot to haul her back up.

“I have you,” he squeezed out between gritted teeth as she emerged back into the light.

As he hauled her up by her right hand, Dawn glanced at her left. While she scrabbled over the edge, the rock under her fingers turned back into hard boot leather. She lay on the rough earth and Elijah dropped beside her. Her heart raced with a wild beat from exertion and fear as she lay still, waiting for her body to calm.

Dawn rolled to stare at Elijah’s feet, about to ask how he had become one with the outcrop, but saw only normal boots and trousers. She pressed a hand to her temple; she must have knocked herself swinging back and forth.

Elijah blew out a deep breath. “I think you found the hermitage.”

Dawn dared a glance at the gaping hole. What light made its way in illuminated a tangle of tree roots just inside. A thick one had a fresh break, as though something had snapped it off at a crucial point. The vine crossed from one side of the hole to the other with a missing segment.

“You’re bleeding,” Elijah said.

Dawn glanced to her wrist, where a thin trickle of blood ran toward her palm. Over her pulse point was a scratch about one inch long. “I’ll survive to fight another day.”

Elijah pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and folded it into a long length. “It’s clean, I promise,” he said as he wound it around her wrist and tied the ends.

“Thank you.” She sat up and urged her body to her feet. “The trees have undermined the rock. We should probably get off the roof before more of it collapses.”

“Good idea.” Elijah bounced to his feet and offered her a steadying hand as they climbed down the other side. Below, the hillock levelled off to a flat area, as though someone had cleared it to make a patio. A wide, winding path led off either side of the clearing, but both were obstructed by decades of fallen branches. The rotting trees then made the perfect growing environment for smaller shrubs and ferns.

Mouse jumped down beside them and glared at the hill. A soft growl rolled off his tongue. Dawn glanced at the dog. “I don’t think it collapsed on purpose, boy.”

Elijah gestured to one side, behind the wolfhound. “The path is completely obscured, no wonder you couldn’t find your way. The entrance is only visible if you climb over the roof and down.”

Dawn turned to survey the hermitage. It was dug into the base of the hill. An oval door was the only indicator that anything was out of the ordinary. Even that looked ancient and weathered, as though it was part of the rock. A heavy, circular iron knocker was the only way in. She imagined ladies riding up the wide path on their placid ponies and waiting on the cleared area for the hermit to appear and quote poetry, or spout cryptic ravings.

Elijah took hold of the ring in the middle of the door and hauled. To Dawn’s surprise, it swung open easily, as though someone had oiled the hinges or it saw regular use. They both peered into the hollowed out space. It now possessed a skylight some twenty feet overhead, and dust motes drifted on the stirred up air.

Elijah walked in first. “Watch out for loose rock,” he called over his shoulder. Part of the roof now formed a pile under the hole.

“Hard to imagine someone once lived here,” Dawn murmured as they stepped inside.

She skirted the edges, looking only, too scared to touch anything in case a wall crumbled and fell upon them.

Rough, ancient-looking furniture inhabited the space. There was a table and two chairs. A large bed with the tall posts still showing the bark so it appeared to be part of the forest. A fireplace was carved into the rock on one side, and Dawn wondered how well it drew up through the hill. Odd that it didn’t look abandoned. Apart from the recently disturbed rock, it almost seemed clean. The bedding looked fresh, yet she would have expected the linen to have rotted over the years.

Was someone still living in the hermitage – unknown or unseen by the family?