Ashes of Thornwood

Chapter 7

Thanksgiving dinner at Thornewood was an elaborate affair, the long dining table set with the finest china, silver gleaming under the flicker of candlelight. The air was filled with the rich aromas of roasted turkey, savory stuffing, and spiced cranberry sauce. It should have been a warm and festive gathering, a celebration of the holiday's meaning, but instead, it felt heavy, the tension nearly suffocating.

I picked at the food on my plate, my appetite long gone, my thoughts consumed by the unease that had settled in my chest. Around me, the guests chatted amicably, their voices rising and falling in polite conversation, but the words barely registered. My gaze drifted across the table, landing on Mrs. Thorne, seated at the head, presiding over the meal with her usual air of cool authority.

It was then that I noticed a small, barely perceptible smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It wasn't a smile of warmth or contentment, but something sharper, more calculating. I followed her gaze to Clara, who was seated beside William, her eyes alight with interest as she listened to him speak. William was animated, his hands gesturing as he shared some story or another, and Clara's soft laughter punctuated his words.

A pang of unease shot through me. Had Mrs. Thorne invited Clara with the intention of stirring old feelings, of reminding Sebastian of what he once had—or thought he could have—with Clara? The thought gnawed at me, planting seeds of doubt that took root in the fertile soil of my insecurities.

"—and so, I've recently taken up a position as a writer for the *Boston Journal,*" William was saying, his voice carrying across the table. "It's a wonderful opportunity, really. Clara and I are quite settled in the city now, but we wanted to come back to visit family for the holidays."

"Oh, how marvelous," Mrs. Thorne replied, her voice laced with false sweetness. "The city must be quite stimulating for such creative minds. I'm sure you both thrive there."

Clara nodded, her expression demure. "Yes, it's been a wonderful change. Though, of course, we miss the quiet of the country from time to time."

I glanced at Sebastian, who was seated beside me, his jaw tight, his eyes focused on his plate. He'd hardly spoken since we sat down, his usual warmth replaced by a brooding silence that made my heart ache. I wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that seemed to have opened between us, but something held me back—a fear that whatever I said might only widen the distance.

Mrs. Thorne excused herself from the table, rising with a graceful rustle of skirts. "If you'll all excuse me for a moment, I have something I'd like to show the mayor," she announced, her tone light, but her eyes glinting with some hidden agenda. She left the room, her movements smooth and controlled, and as she did, I saw Sebastian's gaze follow her.

A moment later, he pushed back his chair and stood, his expression set with determination. "Excuse me," he muttered, though his voice held no real warmth, and before anyone could respond, he followed his mother out of the dining room.

A surge of panic rose within me, the uneasy feeling in my chest blooming into something more urgent. Without thinking, I rose from my seat, not bothering to excuse myself, and slipped out of the room after him. My steps were light, my heart pounding in my ears as I trailed after Sebastian down the dimly lit hallway. He moved quickly, clearly intent on confronting his mother, and I kept my distance, not wanting him to know I was there.

As he reached the end of the hallway, Sebastian caught up with Mrs. Thorne, grabbing her arm and pulling her sharply to a stop. "What are you playing at, Mother?" he demanded, his voice low and seething with anger.

Mrs. Thorne turned to face him, her expression one of feigned innocence. "Whatever do you mean, Sebastian? I'm merely entertaining our guests."

"Don't play games with me," Sebastian snapped, his grip on her arm tightening. "Why did you invite Clara? What are you trying to do?"