The Secrets of Roan Island

1. Ruby

1

Ruby

V isiting a stranger’s home in the middle of nowhere, especially alone, isn’t a good idea. Not that I’m particularly known for good ideas. Outlandish ones. Unhinged ones. Miscalculated ones. Among my colleagues at Essik College, my exploits are legendary. Especially among the men, who love nothing more than to laugh at me behind my back. Do I want to shut them all up? Sure, but there’s more at stake than just my academic reputation. I’m desperate, and desperation makes people do inadvisable things. Which is why I’m alone with a boatman on the dock of Roan Island.

The narrow wooden dock is worn by age and sagging at the edges, like the smile of an unrepentant parishioner at confession. It creaks as I lift my skirts and step out of the steam-huffing metal boat onto the decrepit wood that appears as if it might disintegrate into the sloshing water below. It looks like this dock hasn’t been used in decades, which doesn’t line up well with the Roan family’s reputation of vast wealth.

I glance back at Lake Nettor. The water we just crossed stretches to the horizon, crimson waves whipping up as the wind slices its way across the massive expanse. They say that the scarlet coloring is a result of some ancient deity who tore the island from the shore in a fit of anger and blood. True or not, the red expanse prevents me from seeing the colony on the other side, making my circumstances even more dire. Once the boatman leaves, I’ll be utterly alone here with a family I don’t know on an island that looks as if it hasn’t seen civilization in years.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I ask.

“That’s it.” The boatman nods with a grim frown at the roof of the house that rises above the treetops. “Not the place for a pretty thing like you.”

For a moment, I consider turning back, but quickly discard the idea. If I want to keep my job, I need to talk to Hammish Roan, so I roll back my shoulders and raise my chin, trying to exude confidence I don’t feel. I’m a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of woman and very good at faking it. “I’ll be quite alright, thank you.”

The older man huffs an incredulous noise. “Suit yourself.”

While he means nothing to me, his doubt grates against my insides like the incessant grind of the boat’s engine as he cranks it to life with added huffs and pops of the metalwork and mechanisms putting it into motion. David used to assume that look too, as if I were nothing more than a child with whims and intellect to match. But I don’t want to think of David. Not now. Not ever.

“You’ll be back at the end of the month, as we agreed?” I ask, shaken by the eeriness and isolation of the island as I dig into my reticule for the agreed upon sum.

He takes the money, then glances at the woods as he pushes against the dock with his oar. “If you’re still here.”

A chill creeps up my spine as I watch the gears shift and turn on the boat, clicking like a metronome as it disappears into the fog. The only way back now is to swim.

Turning towards the house, I step from the dock to the rocky shoal of the island. Between the tall trees and the overgrown underbrush, the path from the dock is nearly imperceptible but for the broken cobblestone. With one hand, I squeeze my shawl tighter at my neck, and with the other the handle of my bag. Damp fog surges from the woods, curling around my boots and skirt, making me wish I’d put on my heavier stockings and an extra petticoat. The cold bites, and it’ll only get colder over the next month.

With a shiver, I set down my satchel and pull out the parchment notice that brought me here. The dark burgundy seal of the Roan family is stark against the ivory paper staring back at me.

Dear Professor Rose, I received your inquiry to meet and would like to grant you access to the interview you requested for your research. Please join my family and me on Roan Island for the Winter Solstice holiday as my family's esteemed guest. Your housing, food, and clothing will be provided. We look forward to the possibility of getting to know you over the holiday month, and to discussing your inquiry. I am hopeful we can come to a fortuitous solution. Sincerely, Hammish Roan

Even now, in this decrepit place, excitement courses through my blood as I reread the letter. The filthy rich family of philanthropists, whose name graces dozens of buildings and societies in New Essik Colony, received my letter and agreed to meet with me. The Hammish Roan signed it himself, inviting me to the estate for a whole month!

The Roan family is notoriously private, bordering on reclusive. Inviting me, a lowly college professor, to their estate is unprecedented. It’s the best opportunity that’s ever come my way, and the only chance I’ll have to secure my position at the university. Their library at the estate is legendary, and access to it will give my next paper the validity it needs. A grant from the Roan family will do even more. If I can secure a grant for my department, the university will have to keep me on as a professor. The alternative is… well, I don’t want to consider it.

Doubt creeps along my spine like the fog twisting around the naked trees as I glance up from the parchment, folding it once more. This place is nothing like I imagined. I’m surprised a family as wealthy as the Roans would let their land fall to such neglect. Perhaps they’ve had trouble finding a groundskeeper.

I tuck the invitation into my skirt pocket, wondering if I’ll need to present it at the door.

The wind whines over the water as I leave the lake behind and duck onto the path. The black trees press in on every side, like a corset that’s tied too tight. They block the light, but not the heavy fog. It’s difficult to see more than a few steps forward, which is why I don’t notice the gate until I’m right in front of it.

Thick, climbing vines partially obscure the Roan family crest at the gate’s center. A deep breath of relief fills my lungs upon seeing it. The gate looks ancient, as it should. The Roan legacy goes back a long way and their claim on the island is equally as old. The metal is rusted, a deep burnt red, and closed tight. Beyond it, the pointed tops of the trees compete with the steep roof. I can’t see the full estate from the gateway, just slivers of stone and glimmers of windows. But from what I can see, the grounds are no better kept here than the dock.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Ruby Rose?” I mutter. I’m not easily deterred, though, and I need this, so I reach up and push on the gate. It doesn’t budge.

Finding a boatman willing to ferry me out to the island for nearly all my mint was terrifying enough, but now a locked gate when I am supposedly expected? I swallow my scream and shake the rusted bars, pushing them harder this time. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Besides the creaking of iron, the only answer is silence. An eerie silence. The kind that comes when a predator is near. Cold fear slides up my spine. I glance around, then pull my satchel tightly against my side. I don’t want to stand out here in the woods longer than I have to, which means I need to get past this gate. It’s nothing more than another obstacle to what I really need: access to the Roan private library and their funding. Access to a future that has been unraveling over the past year.

There’s a saying I came across once in my graduate work and wrote down in my journal: Silent women lead silent lives . It became the motto of the CWS, Conspirators Women’s Society, of which I’m a founding member. I don’t know who said it, but the sentiment has proven a necessity.

I need it now.

With a deep breath, I grab the hem of my long dress. “Dammit, Ruby. Why did you have to worry about how you look?”

Pants would have been so much easier than the socially acceptable dress I chose to make a good impression. With another fortifying breath, I tuck the fabric of my skirt firmly into my belt, sling my satchel across my chest, and start to climb.