A School for Unusual Girls by Kathleen Baldwin Page A

toward the east. I peered out, trying to determine our height and the distance to the edge of the property, wondering if Da Vinci’s kite might serve as a method of escape. But I couldn’t see a road in that direction. I wended through boxes and broken furniture to the window on the far side of the room, only to find it looked out over the sea crashing against the cliffs. No hope in that direction, not without a flying boat.
    A broken mirror leaned against the wall near my feet. I might not be able to build a flying boat, but I could do something about the gloom in the attic. Selecting two large pieces, I returned to the circle and used a vase and a small wooden stool to prop the mirrors at angles around the lamp. I adjusted them so that they amplified the feeble lamplight. Jane watched my efforts with interest, but any response she might have made was eclipsed by Sera’s exclamation.
    â€œI see him!” she cried softly. “He’s in the library.”
    â€œLet me.” Tess rushed to the window and took the telescope.
    â€œWho? What library?” I asked, forgetting my resolve to observe silently.
    Jane pointed. “Look past our grounds, beyond that stand of trees. There. Do you see the neighboring manor?”
    Our window jutted out from the peak of the house affording us an unimpeded view of the property to the north and east. The moon peeked through the mist and I saw where Stranje House’s tangled woods ended and opened out onto a smooth manicured park. Farther east stood the profile of a large manor. A window on the second story glowed with orange firelight.
    I nodded.
    â€œIt belongs to Lord Ravencross,” she said, as if his name held some special significance. Then she whispered, “Very mysterious fellow. He returned from the war and reduced his staff to only two servants for that entire manor house.”
    Jane squinted at the neighbor’s mansion as if she was counting the number of rooms. “He must keep most of it closed up and in covers.” She shook her head. “He refuses all visitors, never pays calls to anyone in the neighborhood. Rarely does anyone go in or out.” With a wry smirk she added, “We play guessing games about him. What do you say, Georgiana? Is he so horribly disfigured he cannot abide company?”
    â€œYou are the only one who plays those guessing games, Jane.” Sera tugged the spyglass away from Tess. “And I do wish you would stop. The poor man is in mourning. His only brother is dead. He deserves our sympathy, not your mockery.”
    Maya stood beside Sera straining to see across the park. “You must think we are dreadful busybodies.” She turned to me with a probing gaze and awaited my answer.
    I hedged. “I suppose it’s only natural all of you would be curious about a neighbor.”
    Sera shook her head. “No. It is much more than mere curiosity. He needs us.”
    I didn’t see how that could be true, but I held my tongue.
    â€œYou’re skeptical, but I assure you it’s true.” Sera sighed deeply and dove into an inscrutable explanation. “Tess had one of her dreams, a nightmare really, about a young man being brutally injured in a horrifying fight. She woke up screaming. We were all quite alarmed because she isn’t like me. I only see what is. Tess has dreams and she sees—”
    Tess pinched her.
    â€œOw!” Sera rubbed her arm and glared at Tess. “The upshot of it is, three weeks later we witnessed Lord Ravencross returning from the war, and he was limping.”
    Jane shook her head. “Sera fancies he is a wounded hero. She, of course, is the heroine who must heal him from his tragic past.”
    In lilting accents Maya explained, “Seraphina has a poet’s heart.”
    Jane gave Sera’s shoulder a teasing shove. “Because she reads too many novels.”
    â€œEither way, it’s all rubbish.” Tess stretched like a