When Falcons Fall (Sebastian St. Cyr, #11)

“Yet you were able to get through to her.”


Jane Owens gazed down at the sun-sparkled waters beside them, her thoughts obviously troubled and far, far away. “I understood her. I think that’s what was important. Rowena LaMont believes such children should be humble and endlessly grateful. She could never understand that by trying to force Emma to deny and hide her true feelings, she was only making matters worse.”

Sebastian studied the older woman’s intent profile. And he found himself wondering why she had left the academy, and how she had come to be here, in her rose-covered cottage on the banks of the River Ashes Hollow.

“Do you know why Emma went to Ayleswick?” he asked.

“Not for certain, no. But I can guess. She was trying to discover who her parents were. When she was younger—when I first met her—Emma always insisted she didn’t want to know. She said that if they were ashamed of her—if they didn’t want to have anything to do with her—then she didn’t want to know who they were or have anything to do with them.” Again, that sad smile touched her lips. “She used tell the most marvelous stories to the younger children at the school, all about stolen heiresses and lost princesses and children who were switched at birth. I often thought that was the real reason she didn’t want to know the truth—that she preferred her own world of fantasy, where anything was possible. She realized that once she learned the truth, she’d need to give up imagining and accept what might be a very unpalatable reality.”

“So what changed her mind?”

“Maturity, I suppose. Plus, there were so many questions she wanted answered. She wanted to know simple things—like why she had gray eyes, or where her artistic talents came from. But I think there was more to it than that. I think she was desperate to know if her mother ever loved her—if she regretted giving her up. She wanted to know where she belonged, even if the family that should have welcomed her didn’t want her.”

“And she thought she belonged in Ayleswick?”

The older woman looked stricken. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“You never knew her family’s name?”

“No. But Rowena LaMont might. She always dealt with a firm of solicitors in Ludlow, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she learned the truth years ago.”

“The Ludlow solicitors also handled Emma’s inheritance?”

A frown line appeared between her brows. “How did you know about that?”

“Lord Seaton told me.”

“Ah.”

“You knew he was in love with her?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Was Emma Chandler in love with him?”

Jane Owens paused beside an old stone bridge that spanned the river. “I believe she was, yes. But . . .”

“But?” prompted Sebastian.

“She was . . . strange with him. I think she was afraid of being hurt.”

“Understandable, given his youth and the marked disparity in their ranks.”

“Yes. But I do believe he was sincere in his feelings for her.”

“Did he ask her to marry him?”

“He did ask her, yes.”

Sebastian thought about the anguished young man he’d first encountered on the church porch. So Seaton had asked Emma Chandler to marry him, yet somehow never managed to work up the courage to tell his mother he’d fallen in love. “And?”

“She told him he needed to give her time to think. I suspect it’s a part of what made her finally decide she wanted to know the truth about who she was. It was as if she couldn’t accept his offer until she knew.”

“She knew the name of the Ludlow solicitors?”

“She did, yes—from when she’d dealt with them over the inheritance. So she went there first.”

“When was this?”

“A month or so ago.”

Sebastian frowned. “Not a fortnight ago?”

“Oh, no, it’s been at least a month or more. I warned her they’d never tell her what she wanted to know, but somehow she managed to get it out of them. I fear she may have bribed one of the clerks.”

“Enterprising.”

“Oh, yes. Emma was an extraordinarily enterprising young woman. Once she determined she wanted to do something, she wasn’t one to let either her fears or societal expectations hold her back.”

“But she didn’t tell you what she’d discovered?”

Miss Owens pressed her templed hands against the lower part of her face. “No. Whatever it was obviously disturbed her. She was gone several days, and when she came back, she was very quiet and thoughtful. And then she left again.”

“When was this?”

“That she left again? A fortnight ago.”

“Did she tell you where she was going that time?”

“No. Although I gather it must have been Ayleswick?”

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