Page 76 of So Wild A Heart

The days that followed did nothing to alter her opinion. Miranda spent much of her time with Devin. She was neglecting her work, she knew, but she didn’t care. Her father was quite capable of dealing with all aspects of renovating the house, and between him and Hiram, they were also able to deal with any business concerns that came up. As for Devin’s estate, well, that could wait for a few more days; it had been waiting for years. She told herself that she would get back to it soon, but dealing with the neglect of years was too melancholy a task when one felt as Miranda did, as if she was bubbling over with joy every minute of the day.

Everyone noticed the change in Devin and Miranda. Her father smiled smugly, as though to say he had been right all along. One evening at supper he remarked jovially, “I’m surprised you two haven’t decided to take a honeymoon trip. Go to Vienna or some place like that.”

“That’s the thing,” Uncle Rupert agreed, with a nod of his head. “Be alone for a while. Good thing, I should think. No nasty drafts, either.”

Devin smiled. “I suggested it to Miranda. But she would rather stay here and poke about a musty old house.”

“That’s not true. I said I would love to go, but first I have to get the estate back on track. Papa can take care of seeing that the ‘musty old house’ is being renovated. But I still need to have a meeting with the tenant farmers and visit some of the larger farms.”

Devin cast a fond glance at her. “So I think our honeymoon will be a trip to the Roaches, in all likelihood. Miranda has a desire to see our land there.”

“You mean Apworth Mountain?” Lady Ravenscar asked in astonishment. “Whyever would you want to see that, Miranda?”

“It is beautiful in its own way, Mama,” Rachel pointed out.

“But there is no place to stay,” Rupert said, siding with his sister.

“That’s not true, Uncle,” Devin said. “I have gone there several times. Bert Jones is always happy to let me stay with him and his family. He would be doubly so if I brought a pretty wife with me. From there, it’s an easy ride to Apworth.”

“Bert Jones?” Lady Ravenscar’s eyebrows rose even higher. “You are going to put your wife up in a thatched-roof cottage?”

“I am sure I have stayed in worse, Lady Ravenscar,” Miranda told her cheerfully. “Of course, we could always put up a tent. Devin says he has one.”

Lady Ravenscar looked as if she might faint. “My dear…camping…”

“It would be a wonderful place to paint,” Devin went on, waxing enthusiastic about the idea.

“Really, Devin, you cannot go dragging your new bride all through the roughest country just so you can paint a landscape.”

“But I want to see it,” Miranda assured her. “I am interested in all areas of the estate.”

Uncle Rupert shrugged. “Personally, I think I would choose Vienna for a honeymoon, but to each his own.”

“We shall go to Vienna, too,” Miranda assured them. “And Italy.” The thought of a slow tour through Florence, Rome and Venice with Devin held a great deal of appeal for her. She looked over at him, and her heart swelled with emotion. “But we have a whole lifetime for that.”

Devin left early the next morning for Darkwater Tarn. He had finished his series of sketches of the abbey ruins a day or two before, and he had decided to move on to the inky lake that gave the house its name. Miranda arose late and went downstairs to the library. She needed to finish up some correspondence with the manager of her real estate in New York, and then, she thought, she would get Mr. Strong to show her around some of the tenant farms. She had been doing a great deal of reading on improved methods of farming, and she wanted to see more of the land to get a better idea of what she would have to do.

But when she reached the library, she found a note sitting on the table, waiting for her, that drove all thoughts of Strong and the tenant farms out of her head. Her name was scrawled boldly across the back of the note. Miranda smiled. She had seen Devin’s signature only a few times, but she immediately recognized the dark spiky letters as his distinctive hand. She broke the seal and read the brief note inside:

Beloved,

Meet me at the cellar door in back of the house at 1:00. I have something to show you.

It was signed only with a large R. Below the message there was a crude map showing the location of the cellar door. Miranda read the note over twice, intrigued. She could not imagine what Devin wanted to show her or why he had chosen such a peculiar place. She had not even noticed that there was a cellar door located in that place. Besides, he was not supposed to be here today. He had said he was going to Darkwater Tarn. She wondered if he had changed his mind or if the tarn had been merely a cover for whatever surprise he had dreamed up. A smile curved her lips as she contemplated the afternoon. Whatever Dev had planned, she was sure that it would be far more fun than riding about the estate with Strong.

She sent the man a message that she would meet him the next day instead, then sat down to work on her correspondence, wanting to get it done before her appointment with Devin. It was difficult, for her mind kept wandering to the rendezvous with her husband.

She considered what she should wear. Should she change into an old dress more suitable to a visit to the no-doubt dirty cellars? Or should she assume that the cellars were merely a ruse and that he had some other ultimate destination in mind and that she should keep on what she wore, which was one of Devin’s favorites of her dresses?

She finally came down on the side of vanity and did not go upstairs to change into an old dress. Instead, at one o’clock she slipped out the back door, walking as the map had illustrated in a westward direction. Almost halfway along the back wall of the house she saw the small inset door of the cellar, just where the map had shown it. It seemed odd that she had never seen it before. Then she noticed that the ivy around the door had been newly cut, and she realized that it must have overgrown the door before now, and Devin had had it cut aside especially for this afternoon.

With a smile on her lips, she reached for the door handle and pushed it open. She blinked, staring into the Stygian darkness inside, her eyes, accustomed to the summer light outside, unable to make out anything in the cellar.

“Dev?” she called tentatively, taking a step inside, still holding open the door with her outstretched arm. She peered into the gloom. “Are you here? I cannot see a thing.”

At that moment a hand lashed out and gripped her arm, jerking her forward into the darkness. She stumbled, crying out a protest at his roughness, and in the next instant a hand pushed her hard in the center of her back and she tumbled forward into black, empty space.

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