The Bet

“Well, it is a pretty cruel joke. I cannot see anybody going to the time and trouble of doing such a thing for a laugh. It is without merit. It has to be true. It is signed by your uncle, Myles.” Sam’s finger tapped on the signature.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Elijah offered. “I can drive part of the way if you like. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“No thanks. I don’t know what I am going to find when I get there. Knowing my lot, the whole house will be in chaos and hardly fit for company. No, I had better be on my way.” Myles stood and ignored the swaying of the room as he drew on his cloak. “I had better hurry.”

“If you have your curricle here, I can close your lodgings down for you. I am sure you have everything you need back at home,” Rufus suggested.

“Please, if you would tell Mrs Hargreaves that I won’t be back for a couple of months,” Myles replied absently. His mind was blank; unable to move on from the devastating news that his father had taken ill and was now at death’s door. It was difficult to comprehend that his father needed him right now, and was so very far way.

“You must hurry,” Sam urged. “From the sound of that note, his condition is dire.”

Myles nodded. He didn’t need to read the note again. It was etched on his mind as if burned there for all eternity.

“I must go,” he murmured. Before he left the table he swept the note up and shoved it into his pocket. He had no idea why he felt the need to keep it with him but he did.

“You must let us know what ha

ppens,” Rufus called and stood to shake his hand before Myles swept out of the tavern.

Silence fell amongst the rest of them as they watched the door swing closed behind their friend.

CHAPTER TWO

Estelle hummed a little tune as she picked another apple off the tree and dropped it into her basket. The sun shone warmly on her through the branches high above, and made her smile. For the first time in a while, she could honestly say that she was content, well, content(ish), with her lot in life. It was a relief to be free of the burden of the past for a while.

“It is difficult to believe that there might be anything wrong with these woods,” she breathed as she tipped her head back and absorbed that precious warmth.

Every sense was tuned to the flora and fauna that rustled gently in the slight breeze that teased her cheeks and tugged at the branches high above. It was wonderful; and not the least bit frightening.

Don’t go near those Whistling Woods, and if you aren’t back by tea you can cook for yourself, do you hear? Her grandma had warned before she had left the house.

But why, Estelle had no idea. The woods were thick, and aged, but no less sinister than any woods Estelle had ventured into as a child.

“It’s Grandma being Grandma,” she mused aloud.

Her relation had a tendency to apply old sayings and folklore to any given situation; weather, people’s characteristics, all sorts of things. If there was an adage to be found, Wynne would find it. While it was to be expected in a small, fishing village where lives were ruled by the weather, superstition, and the sea, it was curious the way that her grandma always saw problems where there didn’t appear to be any; like now.

“I think this is the Whispering Woods,” Estelle murmured, but heard no whistling within them, even though they were woods. There was also nothing lurking in the leafy confines to be afraid of. In fact, they were really rather pleasant. The large pile of succulent apples she had gathered was rather wonderful and were a bounty of nature no sinister woods would provide, she was sure of it. Still, if she lingered much longer her grandma would start to worry, and would chide her when she got home.

Eager to be on her way, Estelle studied one particularly large apple in her hand before she placed it carefully into her heavily laden basket with the others and squinted at the tree before her while contemplating how many more to pick.

“Two or three more, I think, and then I am done,” she murmured with a nod. But with no more luscious fruit ripe enough to eat left on the tree, she knew she had to venture further to fill her basket so she could make an apple pie for tea.

She managed no more than three steps when the sudden crackle of twigs preceded a furtive movement within the dense woodland beside her. She froze. Her ears tuned to it. She tried to identify its cause. Her heart flipped as her stomach coiled into nervous knots at the realisation she was no longer alone. Seconds ticked past as she watched and waited. Vulnerability settled its heavy cloak around her and elicited a shiver of deep foreboding that made her step backwards, away from the direction of the noise. Her heart thundered in her ears. Her nervous gaze scoured each shadow as she took another step back, and another, and another. Slowly but surely she became convinced that someone was watching her and, more sinisterly, following her. A distinctive shiver of alarm swept down her spine when she stopped moving and heard another crackle of movement to her left. One trembling hand lifted to hold the ends of her shawl tighter about her shoulders as she took another hesitant step backward. The snap of a twig beneath her booted foot made her pause again. She looked down in dismay before her gaze lifted to the shadows. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end the longer she watched and waited. Rather than abate, as she had been hoping it would, the sense that she was being watched continued to grow, worryingly so.

Keep calm and carry on as though nothing untoward has happened, she chided herself. Maybe they will leave you alone.

“It is probably just a small animal,” she murmured. “Or a w-wolf.”

Determined to find the cause of the noise, Estelle turned in a circle. She wanted to discover what it was, if only to alleviate her fear and reassure herself that nothing was watching her, but then she didn’t want to see anything just in case it posed a threat to her.

“Don’t be so silly,” she whispered herself. “It was probably a fox or something - although, that doesn’t sound any better.”

She found herself looking back at the path she had just taken regardless, and groaned in dismay when she realised just how foolish she had been to let panic get the better of her. In her eagerness to get away from the invisible threat that lurked within the trees she had forgotten which route she had taken. Now, all she could see was a solid wall of foliage which hid all trace of the path she had used to get this far.

“I could have sworn there was a path,” she muttered with a frown. Hopefully, there was nobody around to hear her talking to herself. “Well, if anybody is around, they can help me get out of here because I am well and truly lost now.”

Her gulp was louder than the thundering of her heart in her ears. Without any landmarks to identify where she was she had no choice but to keep walking and hope she came across something – or someone – to help her.