I sat on the small seat in front of the window, my feet pressing into the cushion. An open book rested on my thighs, but I had long since stopped looking at it. My mind had wandered far too much from the book to return to its pages, so I just sat and stared at the window on the grounds below.

Despite being summer, dark clouds rumbled overhead, making everything humid. The clouds made everything appear grey and removed any sense of summer from the air except for the heat that made the house feel stifling. Outside wasn't much better. From my window, I could see the gardeners red-faced and sweating from their work, even though the sun had yet to make an appearance. Father had said that a storm was brewing.

Neither of us had mentioned our meeting in the stables a few days prior, and I had kept my word about the girl. Since that first sighting, I had seen nothing to suggest she was still in the woods and decided that she most likely wandered off to the village. At least, that was what I told myself. Deep down I thought she might still be in the woods, but with Father's warning still playing in my mind, I tried not to think about her.

A sharp knocking sound came from my bedroom door and I turned to face it. The door squeaked open, George poking his head through the small opening.

"I thought as much," he said, stepping into the room. "When your father said you were studying, I knew you would have given up the ghost by now."

"I haven't given up anything. I just cannot focus."

George nodded. "If you say so, Master Nate."

"Can I help you with something?"

"I am heading into the village on some errands for your mother and thought you may like to accompany me. You have not left the house since the Seabrook's visit and your father agrees it may do you some good to come with me."

"Are you taking the carriage?" I swung my legs off the cushion and stood up, stretching my arms back.

"No, I am going to ride down. We might travel through the woods and see if there is any sign of your ghost girl."

"Father says I am not to speak of her anymore."

George raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. "In the time I have known you, you have never listened to your father if you could help it. You're a stubborn young man, Master Nate. Make no mistake."

"This time is different."

"If you say so." George shook his head as though he didn't believe me. I did not blame him. I hardly believed the words myself. "Would you like to accompany me or not? I must leave soon."

"Very well. Let me change and I shall meet you in the stables."

George nodded and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. I sighed, taking the book from the window seat and placing it on my bookshelf to return to later. Not wanting to keep George waiting for too long, I changed into a more suitable shirt, my riding jacket, and my riding boots, and stuffed some coins into my pockets before leaving my room.

I stepped across the hallway and past Alice's bedroom where she sat at her writing desk scribbling a letter to one of her girlfriends who lived up-country. She did not hear me pass, and I tried my best not to disturb her as I did not fancy another lecture about missing my studies for riding. Once I had cleared her room unnoticed, I jogged down the stairs and out the front door, following the path to the stables.

As promised, George was already waiting inside. He stood holding onto the reins of his horse, Cobalt, a large black stallion that looked intimidating but was the sweetest horse I had ever met. Joseph stood nearby with Lightning, the horse already tacked up even though it had not been over five minutes since we had arranged. George must have known I would go with him before he asked.

"Right, shall we be off?" George said.

I took the reins from Joseph, offering a small word of thanks. "How long will we be gone for?"

"An hour, maybe two. It won't be for very long. Going through the woods should shave some time off our journey at any rate."

"You are going through the woods?" Joseph asked, his eyes wide. I did not know if it shocked him to have spoken out of turn, or that we would be going through the woods. Either way, it was a strange reaction for the boy.

"Yes, just to make the journey shorter." George did not seem phased by the boy's comment. "Let's go, Master Nate or I shall not be able to achieve what I need to."

I nodded, casting one last look at Joseph, who had chosen to stare at the floor rather than look at either of us. George and I led our horses from the stable and out onto the grounds, where we both mounted and set off. We started the horses out at a walk, moving across the grass until we stepped into the woods. Here, the darkness surrounded us far more than it had outside. If we were not back before sunset, neither of us would have been able to see where we were going.

Neither of us spoke as we moved through the trees. Instead, I listened to the sound of the birds rustling the trees above us and the branches knocking together in the wind. Even though I wanted to convince myself that the girl had left the area, I kept my eyes open for any sign of her. I looked for broken branches, footprints, or anything else that might have appeared out of place in the woods, but there was nothing. All I could see was the well-worn path to the stream that the stable hands and gardeners used.

Had the girl ever been in the woods, she had done well to cover her tracks and keep herself hidden. The more time that passed without her reappearing made me wonder if Father had been right the entire time. Not that she hadn't existed. I knew she had been real, but that it had been someone who wandered too far and had become lost. Perhaps she had found her way out after all.

On the ride to the village, the thing that continued to plague my mind was Joseph's strange reaction to us going through the woods. He appeared a little startled when I first asked him about the girl, but speaking out of turn was something he never did. Based on his reactions, I decided he knew about the girl and most likely where she had gone. His startled reaction to our going through the woods suggested he thought she was still there, but where was she?

I tried to push the thought from my mind as we emerged from the woods and followed the path towards the village. George led me down the twisting path until it opened onto a large square surrounded by stone buildings and people milling about and staring into shop windows. We dismounted from our horses and left them at the nearby inn that served as a rest stop for weary travellers.

"Where do we need to go?" I asked, glancing around the village.

"I need to visit the greengrocers first. Mrs Thorpe has invited the Seabrooks for supper and the cook would like to prepare turbot, but we do not have any."

"Turbot?" I pulled a face.

"Not a fan?"

"No. I cannot stand it. Andrew, on the other hand, loves it." I shook my head. "Does anyone know why the Seabrooks are coming to supper?"

"Jane, Mrs Thorpe's ladies' maid, believes it is to make up for the other day when you revealed what you had witnessed in the woods."

"Right."

"Do not worry yourself so, Master Nate. From what I heard, no one else appeared all too concerned by your comment."

"Other than Father," I muttered.

"For what it is worth, Master Nate, I believe you." George offered me a warm, comforting smile. It was nice to know that someone was on my side and not just agreeing with me hoping I may stop talking about it. "Come. If we are quick with getting the turbot, we can go to that bookshop you like and see what they have.

I nodded and the two of us walked through the village in search of the turbot that Mother desperately wanted. She only ever served the fish when we had guests over that she wanted to impress. We had never had turbot when the Seabrooks had been for supper in the past and I knew Mother had not been pleased with my behaviour a few days before. Still, Andrew would be coming and he always made supper a much more exciting affair.

We acquired the turbot rather quickly, with George handing over more coins than I thought the fish was worth. Once we had it in our possession, the two of us wandered through the village and stared through shop windows to see what they offered. I peered into the tailors to see what fabrics they had — I needed a new supper jacket — before the two of us moved to the Foreman Bookshop on the other side of the village.

The bookshop had always been my favourite place to visit when I would go to the village, but those trips had become few and far between over the years. Most of the time, Father would bring me one back or simple order books from the city rather than make the journey himself. Mr Foreman's shop had been a refuge for me since I had been a boy. It was comforting to be back.

The smell of new books hit me the moment I walked through the door. Alice thought me odd that I enjoyed the smell of ink on paper and the musky scent that came with old books, but I did not care what she thought. The smell reminded me of simpler times when Father would read to me rather than worry about whether I was studying. Back then, he used to encourage my imagination. He stopped doing that a long time ago.

"Do not take too long, Master Nate. We shall need to get this turbot back soon so it can be prepared," George said. He no doubt saw the look of awe on my face as I ran my hand along one of the many shelves that lined the walls.

"I know. I shall be quick."

"Something tells me that speed in a shop like this is not a quality you possess." He laughed. "I shall give you ten minutes, then we must go."

"Yes, Mother." I smiled a little.

George laughed. "I'll be back in ten minutes. I saw an old friend in the village I wish to speak to."

"Take your time!"

Without a response, George stepped outside and left me alone in the bookshop, a choice he would most likely live to regret. I ran my finger along the spines of the books, pulling the odd one out and flicking through them to see if I would be interested. There were very few books I did not read, even books by Jane Austen were fine as far as I was concerned. Andrew liked to say it was because I was romantic at heart, but I just thought books were far better than reality.

I picked out a few books I had never read before, including Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and The Monk by Matthew Gregory Lewis. Both were books I wanted to read in the past, but Father always said they were not appropriate for my age and by the time I reached a suitable age, I stopped being able to go to the bookshop on my own. George had offered me the perfect time to purchase them for myself.

When George did not reappear within the ten minutes he had given me, I paid for the books, tucked them under my arm, and left the shop. Outside, the clouds had darkened, and I knew that rain was on its way. We needed to make it back to the house before the storm hit. I crossed the village square, hoping to see George, but he had disappeared completely.

The books were heavy under my arm as I moved through the village in search of him, spotting him near the inn where we had left the horses and talking to a man about the same age as himself. I hurried across the square to join him.

"The Constable is doing very little to help those who have had food stolen and we do not know who is doing it," the other man said.

"Hm. People do not steal around here."

"No, they do not. That happens in London, not here."

"Someone's been stealing food?" I said, readjusting my grip on the books and inserting myself into the conversation. George looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. Several people have reported missing pieces from their bread delivery, although the baker insists it all left his shop. Mrs Ryan had a freshly baked apple pie stolen from her window just the other day."

"Have they seen anyone take it?"

"No, not really. Mr Lewisham swears he saw a young girl take off with a loaf of bread a few weeks ago, but he doesn't know who she is; he didn't recognise her."

The cogs turned in my brain, faster than they had at any other point that day. No one in the village had any reason to steal food from others. Father always made sure they were well looked after and that no one went hungry. The only person it could have been, at least in my estimation, was the girl. It wasn't unfeasible that she might have made it to the village to steal food and it might have explained why she was not in the woods when George and I had passed through. It made sense.

And yet a small piece of doubt crept in. If Joseph knew about the girl, he would have been keeping her fed, so she would have no reason to sneak into the village and steal from innocent people. Unless it became harder to pilfer food from the kitchen. Our cook, Mrs Hunter, was a stickler about the pantry and what food left her kitchen. She rarely allowed me to take anything and knew if I had done so without permission. Unless he sacrificed his food, Joseph may have no means of giving her food. Two things were certain, though.

The girl was real, and I had to talk to Joseph.

~~~

A/N - We are back with Chapter Four! It seems that no matter what Nate does, the girl always makes an appearence in someway or another...

Questions! Do you think Nate is right about Joseph knowing who she is? Should he talk to him or let Joseph go to him?

Let me know in the comments below!

Dedication  - Aww, no dedication this week! Comment or interact with the story and you could have a chapter dedicated to you!

First Published - October 25th, 2022