“It will be here for a while by the feel of it,” Harriett said. Nobody thought to question her.
“We only have to go round the coast and take the pathway down to the estuary, which we can follow inland to Tintagel,” Edward announced from the back of the ground, aware of the despondency that had settled over the group just as the mist had settled around them.
Nobody bothered to reply to him. They were all wet with dewy moisture and could barely see the path in front of them.
The stiff breeze blowing inland had turned considerably colder, leaving them all exhausted, frozen and soaking wet. There was very little anyone could find that was positive in their situation.
“What’s that?” Harriett gasped, drawing to a halt and staring into the mist behind her.
“What?” Jemima whispered, moving closer to Harriett and trying to peer through the gloom. She couldn’t see anything, but strained her ears to listen for anything beyond the crashing of the waves of the rocks far beneath them.
After several minutes, Peter shook his head. “I can’t hear anything,” he said, turning away and tugging Jemima with him, clearly expecting Harriett to catch up.
“Wait!” The urgency in Harriett’s voice was not lost on anyone.
From his place at the back of the group, Edward tried to peer through the fog toward Peter, his own senses suddenly warning him that danger was imminent.
A swift flurry of movement behind him alerted him to the danger – but it was too late. The thud of the large object that hit the back of his head was heard even through the low howl of the increasing winds.
Edward hit the ground with a dull thud. His body was dragged away from the group and vanished into the thick fog.
“Edward?” Eliza tried to peer through the gloom for signs of him. “Edward!” she screamed, when he didn’t immediately respond. They had all heard the heavy thud. “Oh God, Peter,” Eliza gasped, wondering if Edward had fallen off the cliff. She moved to stand where Edward had been, desperately trying to see through the gloom for any sign of him.
All sorts of thoughts flickered through her mind as she began to search the area, her hands held out before her as she tried to find him.
“Edward, answer me!” Her heart pounded heavily in her chest. Edward wouldn’t simply vanish; he wouldn’t leave her. Where could he be? She took several steps forward and was abruptly swallowed by the thick fog.
“Eliza?” Harriett called, her voice rising in panic. She too had heard the thud and wondered what had happened to Edward to make him ignore Eliza’s pleas.
She had no doubt that Edward had fallen victim to something. Or someone. She jumped as Harrold began to growl and hiss in her arms. His yellow gaze fixed on the swirling fog behind them.
“Eliza?” Peter and Jemima appeared beside her. Harriett threw them a panicked look when Eliza didn’t reply.
“Eliza!” Jemima shouted, her voice deadened by the heavy mist. “Edward, talk to us!” Jemima shouted. “Where are you?”
“Oh God, Peter,” Jemima whispered in horror moments later when neither Edward or Eliza had reappeared.
“Edward, answer me! Eliza, where are you?” Peter’s voice rang loudly through the fog. They paused and waited for any response but could detect nothing. Peter slowly withdrew his gun.
Every hair on Jemima’s neck stood on end. She hated to keep leaning on Peter’s shoulder, but was spooked by the sudden disappearance of two of the most precious people in her life.
She almost screamed when Peter grasped her wrist fiercely, his other hand motioning frantically for her to remain quiet. He gestured to Harriett to come closer to them, and put himself in front of both women, and studied the mist surrounding the path Eliza and Edward had just been standing on.
For Edward not to answer, something was very wrong.
They were out of options. They couldn’t go forward because they were missing two people and couldn’t leave without them. Nor could they go back and leave Eliza and Edward to their fate, whatever that might be. At the moment all he had to go on was a gut instinct that was still screaming at him: that danger was imminent.
His thoughts quickly turned to Hugo. Had he really returned to Padstow? Or had he doubled back, planning to strike while they were isolated on the perilously slippery cliff path? Peter cursed his stupidity in not questioning Hugo further after the cart accident.
Harriett was shivering, her eyes filled with terror as they flicked around, desperately trying to see through the haze.
Jemima studied her friend and tried hard not to be affected by her fear, but felt sick with terror. Although she had lived in Cornwall for many years, she had never grown used to the thick sea fog, which had a tendency to appear unannounced, rolling inland ominously in an impenetrable wall of mist that immediately sucked all warmth out of the day, and turned the skies a forbidding grey. She could feel moisture on her face, although it wasn’t raining. The rocks beneath their feet had already turned wet and slippery and intensely dangerous. Had Edward and Eliza merely slipped off the path?
“Well, well, well, look who we have here.” The eerie voice came out of nowhere, making them all jump. “If it isn’t Jemima Trevelisk, and Lord Harlec. I saw you last night at the inn, and couldn’t believe my eyes!”
Peter froze, and closed his eyes for a brief moment, mentally cursing his luck. He knew that this was the person behind Edward and Eliza’s disappearance.
“Scraggan,” Harriett whispered, her eyes filled with horror as she stared at the darkening shadow emerge from the swirling mist.