Eppie Read Free

begin to imagine how awful life would be without his own
mother.
    ‘At least let me see my new sister!’ Gabriel wailed.
    In fear, Wakelin’s heart missed a beat. He stilled his
movements, terrified of making any sound which would reveal his being there.
    ‘Wait!’ Agnes replied harshly. ‘Let me tie your waist sash.’
    It would only be moments before the baby was found dead.
    Tongue flickering, Wakelin carefully edged his way down.
    Having a picture in his mind of the twists and turns, and the
location of the hewn steps, his return was slightly easier.
    From the nursery came the uproar he had expected. Gabriel’s shriek
of despair sent a shiver of dread through his body.
    He squirmed with guilt. ‘Ought I to have done this terrible
deed?’ He knew that it had been a mean, selfish act on his part. But, he
reasoned, Genevieve’s mother was dying. The baby’s father was a hard,
introspective individual who was easily angered. In many ways he was like Wakelin’s
own father, who found it impossible to back down in a quarrel and admit he was
wrong.
    Still, depriving a brother of his sister was a heinous act. He
should not have done it.
    Now he was in a quandary. ‘Is it possible to return the
child?’ he thought. ‘To right the wrong I’ve done?’ Mixed up, willing himself
to keep his nerve, he turned. A shoulder in contact with the rock to steady
himself, he began to grope his way back through the darkness.
    He would hide behind the wainscot and consider his next move.
Perhaps if Gabriel and Agnes left the nursery, even for a few minutes, he could
return the child to the cradle and take Eppie. ‘But,’ he wondered, ‘will I have
time to dress Genevieve and wrap her in linen, like she was before? This is
madness. I’m more likely to get caught now.’
    Behind him, he was aware of the rhythmical throb of water tumbling
into the chasm of Shivering Falls. Only now, unnervingly, with each step that
he took, it grew louder. Beneath his feet the hacked rocks vibrated.  
    Gaping round in fear, he saw a wave, like a white cliff, crashing
towards him, rolling and pounding, sending up frills of spray.
    Cringing, he howled in alarm, the sound of his voice lost
within the raging, foaming waters funnelling around the walls.
    Almost immediately the waters stilled to create a perfect
circle about him. He felt, amazingly, bone-dry, overcome by a wonderful sensation
of tranquillity. Not a sound was to be heard, not even Gabriel’s cries.
    Bright rays, like the sun shining
through the rose-shaped windows in the village church, cast upon a pale, willowy
child. Spilling over her lace mantle, her waist-length flaxen locks were
tangled with white ribbons and winter’s ravaged river reeds. Daisy chains
looped around the puffed sleeves of her gown. Ruched muslin cascaded from her
wrists to the floor of the tunnel like shoals of silvery fish. The hem of her
gown was invisible, giving her the appearance of floating as she drifted
towards him, her white skirts rippling like wind blowing gently across a lake.
    He knew he ought to feel
scared. Indeed, he was afraid of the strangeness of what she had become, but
not of her. Not of Talia. He loved her so dearly.
    What struck him most, revelling
in her loveliness, was the heartbreak of her life. A life spent with a vile
father who had treated her with disdain simply because she had been born a
mute. He was stung by the tragedy of her early death. He would hate to die
after only twelve years of life. If she had lived, she would have grown to be a
beautiful woman with countless admirers.
    For a moment her gaze fell
upon the child in his arms. As if she had come to a decision, she cast him a
warm smile and beckoned him forward.
    He realised she wanted him
to take Genevieve away from the manor! What he was doing was right. It gave him
a strong sense of sureness, more so because it was the baby’s sister
encouraging him.
    In a daze, he pushed
through the tunnel opening.
    Moments later, he