“You wanted to see me, sir?” Rick asked. He stood in the doorway of the sitting room that served as Captain Edmond’s temporary office.

Edmond waved him in. “Yes. I’ve had a letter from Selby Hall. Your brother says you’re wanted at home.”

“My brother is very kind to say so.” Selby Hall was Rick’s family home, a manor house overlooking the market town of Windermere. Rick hadn’t seen it in years.

“You can leave tomorrow. The rest of us will reach Dunhall before the week is out, and there will be no hurry to move on from there."

“That isn’t necessary, sir. I should stay at my post.”

“Lord Henry’s letter made it clear that you are needed urgently.” Edmond rubbed his forehead and slumped a little lower in his chair. “Count Seymour can make do with one less guard for a few days. Windermere is nearly on the way. There’s no harm in a little detour, Rick.”

An attendant from the house walked into the room, cradling a bundle of dirty-looking linens in his arms. “Captain! Edmond, sir.” He looked frantic. “Lady Taylor has questions—er, she wishes to speak with you, sir.”

Edmond nodded and stood to follow him. On his way out, he clapped a hand on Rick’s shoulder.

“Go home,” he said. “I’ll see you in Dunhall.”

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Two days later, Rick knocked on the door of Selby Hall.

A maid answered the door. She spoke before he could introduce himself.

“Mister Richard,” she said. She had the fingers of one hand curled loosely around the edge of the door. “Welcome home.”

Her wide-eyed gaze was unnerving, and she didn’t blink nearly as often as she should. Rick cleared his throat. “May I come in?”

She opened the door wider and ducked her head in a curtsey. “Follow me, sir,” she said, pushing the door closed behind him.

The house was quiet. They didn’t pass anyone on their way.

The maid led Rick to the library. His brother, Lord Henry, sat at a round table in the center of the room. He had a book open in front of him.

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“Mister Richard has come home, my lord.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Henry said.

Mary curtsied and left. Henry looked down at his book.

Being ignored by his older brother provoked an old pettiness in Rick. He took a seat at the table and set his hat a little too close to the book Henry was reading. The hat was pale with dust from the road. He expected Henry to complain about spreading dirt around the house, but no such luck.

Even with his brother in the room, the house felt eerily still. Henry’s family was not large, but he and his wife did have one child, a daughter named Elsie.

Elsie should have been about seven years old that year. Rick remembered her as a quiet child, but she was little more than a toddler when he had last seen her. How quiet can a seven-year-old be? Perhaps she and her mother had gone into town.

Up close, Henry looked like a wreck. When did his hair get so grey?

Finally, Henry asked, “Did Edmond send you here?”

Rick tilted his head, annoyed. “You sent for me.”

Henry pressed his palms to his eyes. “I had hoped this was a coincidence,” he said. “I don’t suppose Captain Edmond is on his way here?”

“Henry, what is this about?”

“Your captain means well—I think—but I had hoped to have his support.” Henry was muttering, and Rick strained to hear him.

“Support for what?” Rick asked.

Henry bent his head over his book, angling his face away from Rick.

“Sibyl and Elsie were taken from here last week. Count Seymour is holding them in Dunhall.”

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Rick had only met his niece twice, and he wasn’t sure either time really counted. Elsie was at her mother’s side every time he saw her. She never came near him unless she had to. He liked to think it was because she was shy.

Sibyl, his sister-in-law, was less of a stranger. She was strange, though.

Sibyl’s marriage to Henry had been unexpected and unwelcome. Rick had no clue what his parents were thinking, scooping up a destitute peasant girl and welcoming her into the family. His parents had insisted on the match, but in truth they were as reluctant as Henry himself.

Sibyl was aware of her new family’s misgivings, but she wasn’t in a position to turn her nose up at her bizarre stroke of luck. The marriage went forward.

Once it became clear that Selby Hall was stuck with her, the old housekeeper, Millie, became determined to make the most of Sibyl. She shadowed her for weeks, ruthlessly correcting every mistake. During that time, Sibyl had been a blessing in disguise for Rick. He was fifteen years old, and Millie was too busy fretting over Sibyl’s posture to bother with him. It was great.

When Sibyl was too shy to see guests, Millie dragged her from her hiding place. When Sibyl slouched, Millie pulled her up. When one of Sibyl’s “wretched magic tricks” (as the townsfolk said, but only when Sibyl was out of earshot) accidentally replaced lunch with that evening’s dessert, Millie set it right. Rick wasn’t hungry though—he had already managed to sneak a few pastries from the kitchen.

By the year’s end, Sibyl’s cold reception was all but forgotten. She was well-mannered and wore fine clothes. She managed the household quietly and efficiently. She spent more and more time with Henry. By all appearances, Rick’s sister-in-law had adapted to life in Selby Manor.

Still, Rick never forgot the odd grubby girl who once knocked a heckler off his feet from across a field.