Boston, Massachusetts, May 1889
Charlotte Fairfax stood on the balcony at Merlin’s Leap, her hands clasped around the stone balustrade. Down in the restless ocean, waves crashed against the cliffs with an endless roar. Spray flew up in white columns. A chilly mist hung in the air. In the distance, the lighthouse at Merlin’s Point, not yet lit up for the night, silhouetted against the dark bank of clouds.
Morbid thoughts filled Charlotte’s mind. A hundred years ago her ancestor, Merlin Fairfax, had leaped to his death from this very spot. Had he been pushed, as his widow claimed? Had his younger brother murdered him? Rumors persisted even today, suggesting that he had.
Did cruel nature pass down through generations?
Was one branch of the Fairfax family tainted with evil?
How far might Cousin Gareth go to get his hands on her inheritance?
A tap on her shoulder made Charlotte jolt and cry out in alarm. She whirled around, fear throbbing through every muscle. Her shoulders sagged with relief when she saw her sister Miranda.
“You scared me.” Her words came on a nervous sigh. “I didn’t hear you open the door.”
“Come inside,” Miranda said. “We need to talk.”
Charlotte followed her sister into the upstairs parlor that overlooked the ocean. Through the wide bay window, she could see a flock of seagulls dipping and wheeling over the foaming whitecaps, could hear the muffled sounds of their screeching.
Built of gray stone, solid as a fortress, Merlin’s Leap stood on a rocky headland just north of Boston. All three Fairfax sisters had been born in the house, had enjoyed a happy childhood there, and had been looking forward to entering adulthood. And then, everything had changed four years ago, when their parents drowned in a boating accident.
The middle sister, Miranda, was the tallest, and the only one who took after their father. Blonde, blue-eyed, she looked elegant and feminine, but she could outrun, outride and outshoot most of the men on the estate.
At twenty-four, Charlotte was the eldest. Small and slender, with curly dark hair and hazel eyes, she was dreamier than her sisters, and less practical. When circumstances called for it, though, the stubborn streak that usually remained hidden behind her gentle facade came out, turning her into a fighter.
Annabel, the youngest, was only eighteen. She shared the same petite frame and dark coloring as Charlotte, but her hair was straight instead of curly. They were alike in personality, too, quieter, not nearly as bold or feisty as Miranda.
In the parlor, the big stone fireplace had been lit in deference to the cool spring day. Annabel stood by the hearth, a wool shawl wrapped around her threadbare gown. The rigid set of Annabel’s shoulders and her fraught expression filled Charlotte with alarm.
We need to talk, Miranda had said.
Not sisterly gossip.
But the kind of talk that altered lives.
Her pulse accelerating, Charlotte hurried across the room to her youngest sister. She halted beside Annabel in front of the fire and held her hands out to the flames, fortifying herself.
Miranda tiptoed to the entrance and peeked into the corridor to make sure the housemaids were not spying on them. Then, taking care not to make a sound, she closed the door and returned to her sisters.
Turning to Charlotte, Miranda spoke bluntly. “You have to leave today.”
The fear inside Charlotte knotted tighter. “What did you find out?”
“Cousin Gareth has given the servants the day off on Saturday. He has given them money to spend, and offered them the use of the carriage to go into Boston.”
“He is getting everyone out of the way,” Annabel said. “He’ll ravish you, and then you’ll have to marry him, and he’ll get his dirty paws on Papa’s money.”
Charlotte flinched. Annabel was too young for such talk, but she had been the one to walk in on them and rescue her a week ago, the first time Cousin Gareth had tried to force his attentions on her. Gareth had been pursuing her since Mama and Papa died, but only recently had he made it clear that he would use any means to achieve his aim.
“At least the two of you are safe from him,” Charlotte reminded her sisters. “I don’t agree with the old English custom of leaving everything to the firstborn, but Papa did, and that means I’m the only one in danger.”
Miranda’s elegant features puckered into a frown. “Papa was a fool not to trust young women to manage their own fortune. You don’t get the money until you’re twenty-five, but if you marry your husband will get everything at once. Gareth has been gambling. He is in debt and desperately needs funds.”
“And he knows that on my next birthday we’ll be rid of him.” Anger rose in Charlotte. “I’ll throw him out of Merlin’s Leap. He’s been living on Papa’s money and keeping us prisoners here. One more year, and then we’ll be free of him.”
“He knows that,” Miranda said bleakly. “That’s why he is getting desperate. You’ll have to leave at once and find a safe place to hide from him. I stole a gold piece from his pocket this morning. Before the end of the day he’ll notice it’s gone.”
“How can I get away?” Charlotte spread her hands in a futile gesture. “Cousin Gareth has the footmen and the grooms watching every move we make. Even the cook and the housemaids are spying on us.”
Miranda leaned closer to her eldest sister and lowered her voice. “Annabel and I will distract the servants, so you can slip out. You must shelter in the forest and walk all the way to Boston. Once you get to the railroad station, you can blend in with the crowd and take a train to someplace where people don’t know you.”
“But I’ll only have ten dollars!”
“Twenty,” Miranda said. “The gold piece I stole was a double eagle.” She shifted her shoulders in an impatient gesture that brushed aside the obstacle of lack of funds. “You’ll have to find a safe place to hide, and come back to Merlin’s Leap next year, after your birthday, when you can claim your inheritance.”
“You can dress in boy’s clothing and—”
Miranda cut off Annabel’s excited chatter. “No, she can’t. She needs to look like a respectable lady. An educated person who can get a job as a governess or teacher, or a lady’s maid.”
“I can’t...” Charlotte inhaled a deep breath. “I wouldn’t know what to do...where to go...how to find a suitable position...”
“You have to,” Miranda said. “We can’t come with you, as we need to distract the servants so you can escape. If you stay here, Cousin Gareth will force you to marry him. You’ll be tied to him for the rest of your life.” Her tone hardened. “Of course, you can just let him bully you, and take Papa’s money, and anything else he might want.”
Like always, Miranda knew how to stir up courage in her sisters. Charlotte fisted her hands into the worn fabric of her ancient wool gown. One of Gareth’s petty tyrannies had been not to let them have any money, or buy anything new since their parents died. Up to now, they’d had enough to eat, but Charlotte suspected starvation might be his next weapon.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go and pack.”
I’ll go and pack. Just like that. The end of one life and a leap into the unknown—perhaps not as drastic as a leap from the balcony into the churning ocean below, but equally frightening to Charlotte.
“But what about you...” She swallowed the lump of fear that clogged her throat. “What if Cousin Gareth takes out his fury on you? He might suspect you know where I’ve gone to and try to beat the