Inside, dance music reverberated through the elegant rooms and hallways. And in the ballroom exquisitely dressed couples whirled gaily, the women’s jewels flashing like fire. A quarter of a mile away, on a lonely windswept cliff, Leonora Deverell could hear the strains of the waltz as she paced in the iron gazebo. Where was he? Pausing a moment, she glanced up at the big yellow moon that hung over SwanSea and tried to judge the time. At least an hour had passed since the grandfather clock in the foyer had struck midnight. Anxiously she clasped her hands together. The carriage was waiting for them, their bags already in it. John’s nurse had packed all of his clothes and toys, and if she were following the schedule, had probably already tucked him comfortably into the carriage. It would be a long, tiring journey for the three year old, and Leonora hoped he would sleep all the way to Boston where they would board the ship for Europe.
