Chapter Four

The Iron Fence

I felt my heart freeze. His eyes seemed to be on fire as he looked down at me, then scrutinized the room, checking every corner in a search for anything out of place. His gaze returning to me, he spoke.

"What were you doing in my room?" he asked, but his voice held a fearful power, as if the wrong answer would end the moment in something dreadful. I opened my mouth, but no words seemed to come out, instead I probably looked something like the live fish I had seen Mary bring into the back kitchen to cook.

He stepped forward, forcing me to step back, and closed the door behind him. I would have screamed, but despite my fear I had a hungry desire to know more about this man.

"I'm sorry, sir, I had not known this room was occupied. I had come in to straighten it up for another guest, I was just leaving having realized that someone was staying here." I said this as strongly as I could, hoping he could not hear the flutter in my voice my heart was causing.

"And you thought it fit to close the door behind you when you came in to 'straighten up?'" He said, narrowing his eyes.

I opened my mouth to speak.

"I know you were looking through my things," he continued. I closed my mouth. "I need to know exactly how much you have found out about me."

Despite myself I backed up further, frightened but still determined to maintain my charade.

"I swear, I didn't look through anything of yours. In fact I don't even know your name -" I made to side-step around him, only he moved once more to block me. "Sir, if you do not let me through, I will scream," I threatened.

He closed his eyes as if tired and leaned toward me. "I do not wish to hurt you... Maddie," he said, I tensed at the use of my name like that. "If you knew too much you may be putting me in danger... you must understand everything before you leave."

My curiosity rose to the surface again, and I think it showed on my face.

He smirked and gestured with his arm toward the chair. I obeyed and went to sit, trying to ignore the rustle of the cloak that lay across the back.

I sat on the edge, while James - if that was his name - came to face me. He reached behind me and pulled at his cloak, bringing it toward him and reaching into one of the pockets. He pulled out the newspaper clippings, holding one in each hand before me.

"I see you've read about my family," he said, placing the clipping on my lap and crouching down so our eyes were level. "And I see you've read about my brother."

I didn't answer, and was determined not to look into his eyes.

"If anyone were to know I was here, it might get back to my brother, and it might come all back around to me.

Currently, you are a threat to my life. Therefore, I will be keeping a close watch on you. If I should hear you telling anyone who I am, the result would not be good for either of us."

I just nodded my head, anxious to get out of the closed room. He rose and opened the door, this time gesturing me to leave.

"Watch yourself," he said, as he watched me walk out the door. As soon as I had breached the threshold, he slammed the door behind me.

My heart raced as I ran back into the barroom then up the stairs to my own. Shutting the door behind me I leaned against it. What had I gotten myself into? Why had I been so curious? I knew he was dangerous so why didn't I just leave him alone?

Is he dangerous though? Sure he had threatened me, but wasn't his brother the dangerous one? I am, technically, a threat to his life if I were to tell everyone that he was still alive. I wouldn't trust someone I had met only the night before either.

Where was his brother now? My curiosity rose again. Perhaps I could go see where his brother lives see what he is like.

I heard my grandfather descending the staircase, opening my door I followed him downstairs.

"Where are you going?" I asked him when I saw that he had donned his traveling cloak. He turned to look at me.

"I've a letter to post," he answered, before turning back toward the door.

"Could I deliver it for you?" I offered. He turned back to me. "I'm sure you have a lot of things to get done, and I feel I need a bit of fresh air."

"Well" he said. Taking off his cloak he handed me the letter. "The post office is on the main street you cannot miss it. Hurry back." Looking relieved that he did not have to go out, he patted me on the shoulder before heading back upstairs.

Putting my shawl on, I headed out the door. Taking a look at the Molina manor wouldn't hurt anyone.

Emerging onto the dirt road I headed toward town. Once more I paused by the lighthouse to drink in the view. I longed to go swimming, and winter was nearing. M dip would have to be soon or else I would catch my death in the water from the cold.

Continuing toward town I finally made it to the post office. Stepping inside I went up to the counter and handed the man there a letter. Smiling at me over his glasses he took it and read the address before storing it away.

"Tell Mr. Rogers that his letter will be delivered safe and sound," the man said as I turned to leave.

"Thank you, sir," I curtsied before making my way toward the door. However, I stopped and turned back toward him. "You wouldn't, by chance, know where I could find the Molina manor, would you?"

"Certainly," he answered. "You know the road to the lighthouse, do you not? Take a left just before you turn there and it will be about a half mile down on the right."

"Thank you, sir," I said again, making my leave.

"You aren't certainly considering going there alone?" he asked, aghast.

"Oh, no sir," I lied. "I'm just trying to learn the places of this town, seeing as I just moved here."

"Have a good day then," he said, turning back to his paperwork.

I left quickly after that. I knew it was odd for a young lady to be gallivanting around town on her own, but something inside of me wanted to know more.

I took off speedily down the street, hoping to get there and back without Grandfather noticing the unusual amount of time I would be gone. Turning left at the cliff, I went down the previously unexplored lane. Trees branches crisscrossed over the path, making it striped like the drawing of the zebra my grandfather had showed me.

Back when I was young, Grandfather would show up unannounced every six months to a year. He would bring with him tales of pirates and Indians, of the African plains. Those were my favorite stories. He knew how much I'd loved animals and would bring me all types of drawings of his observations. From the striped zebra to the spotted leopard, they were all so beautiful. The giraffe was my favorite of all, though. I couldn't imagine an animal being so tall. The tallest animal I had seen in the England was a rather large dog. To think of an animal that could reach into the highest trees and dip down low enough to get water from watering holes!

His stories had always made me jealous. I felt so cooped up in our home, sheltered and bound by the expectations of my mother. I had never been one to sit still and drink tea while I saw my brother playing outside with the other boys. My sister was always more patient, also leading her to be much more accomplished than me at the piano.

That was probably why she had so many proposals for marriage. I had watched at least three young men approach my father at one point or another to ask for her hand. Eventually, she was married to the man of the highest social standing with the largest amount of money. That day still rang clear through my mind. Nothing could erase the look on her face as she rode away in the carriage. A marriage of convenience, not one of love.

I had hoped for better luck, but none such became. My suitor was of a banker's family: tall, brooding, and utterly dreadful. Not only that, but he was some thirty years my senior. His manner was cold and it seemed as if he only tolerated me because it was a good investment, my family being well off as well. I knew from conversation I had overheard as he was speaking with other men that marriage, to him, was business. I would merely be something for him to show off to his friends, something to share and bed, and that was it.

I couldn't bring myself to face it, and that's why I ran away. But now, it seemed, my days as a debutante would be numbered. Working in a saloon! Oh, the ladies at home would surely titter over that. But if I ended up being a spinster in exchange for my freedom then so be it. Mary seemed to get along just fine, but then I knew nothing of her past.

Sighing, I set my focus back on the road. I could still make out the ocean between the trees, and still hear the waves crashing on the rock even though the birds twittered wildly. After coming over the crest of the hill, I finally saw the manor.

It was massive, sending a long shadow that covered almost all of the front lawn. An iron fence surrounded the property and behind the house I could see a medium sized stable. The sound of birds seemed to be nullified as I moved closer. Vines snaked their way up the front and around the windows, a terrace to the left side of the door.

No carriage stood in the drive, but I knew servants must have been moving about the manor. Skirting the side of the fence I moved around to the back. A walkway went around the edge of the cliff. No fence stood between it and the sheer drop, almost as if the owner loved being an inch from death whenever he moved about the walk. In the back was a massive balcony, stairs leading down onto the lawn. Three chimneys shot up into the sky, only one emitting the smoke of a fire.

I so wanted to look in one of the windows, but I was so sure I would get caught. Maybe I should come back at night, a time when fewer people would be around? I ran my had across the bars, wonder how on earth I would climb up them to get closer at a later time. Sighing, I made my way back around front. It was another task for another day.

"What are you doing here?" A voice sounded sharply from behind me. I whipped around quickly, half expecting to see James Molina, ready to rip me apart. Instead, and my face softened upon the realization, it was Nicholas.

"Just familiarizing myself with the town," I said easily, smiling at him. In his hands was box that clinked when he moved. Before he could answer I turned the question back on him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm heading back to the shop," he said, indicating with a nod of his head that the shop was further down the road to the right.

"What's in the box?"

"Glass that was broken in the process of shipment."

"Shipment?" I asked.

"Shipment meaning my being clumsy with the orders," he said bitterly. "Mr. Gale is going to have my head."

I gave him a sympathetic look.

"Would you like to come with me? If I remember right you said you wanted to see how glass was made. Plus, he might go easier on me in the presence of a beautiful young lady." He said this all very calmly.

I felt my cheeks flame at his compliment, "That would be lovely."

"Come on, then." He turned and started walking again, I falling into step by his side.

"How long have you been an apprentice?" I asked him, feeling a hanging silence.

"Three years," he said.

"Do you miss your family?" I asked. A look crossed his face that made me wish I had said nothing.

"Sometimes."

He let it end there, and I found myself too daunted to strike up another conversation.

"What were you doing by the Molina's, anyway?" he finally questioned, looking at me as his box clanked.

"I was just looking around," I paused before adding, "I had heard about the murders."

Nicholas shot me a warning look. "You need to be careful, Maddie " I felt pleased that he used my nickname " something weird is going on and it's not safe to be around where it happened until whoever killed the man is caught. That goes for the lighthouse too."

I felt slightly irked that he was ordering me about like a child. "I can take care of myself," I said firmly. Had I not traveled by myself all the way here from my old home?

"I know you can," he said, his voice less sharp. "But it scares me. This town, ever since I moved here, has been quiet. And from what the locals said, nothing like this had ever happened before."

I stayed silent, contemplating what he had said. I tried to fit it together as to why James Molina would still be alive. How had he survived a shipwreck?

"Has Thomas Molina been see recently?" I asked.

"No," Nicholas said. "I hear he just stays secluded in that mansion of his. He won't even talk to his staff anymore."

"There was no carriage in the drive, though," I said.

"Maybe one of the servants needed it for something," he shrugged, speeding up his pace. "Come on, where almost there, and I fear I'm awfully late."

Moving as fast as I could in my skirts, I followed him down the path and to a small workshop.