A Thread of Fate

By C L Dalton

IT IS THE LATE 1800S AND THOUGHTS OF HELL AND THE DEVIL ARE ALL SCARY BEDTIME STORIES TO JOSEPHINA. THAT IS UNTIL A SON OF HELL COMES TO EARTH.

In the small village where she lives, Josephina’s life is predictable and mundane. Desperate for adventure and excitement, she turns to unconventional hobbies that feed her soul. When a handsome duke arrives in town, Josephina becomes the envy of all the other girls. However, their courtship takes a dark turn, and Josephina will stop at nothing to escape.

As she seeks refuge with Zephyr, a mysterious and alluring figure from a dangerous world, Josephina finds herself torn between her familiar life with her family and the allure of the underworld. With Zephyr’s undeniable charm and the revelation that not everyone wants her there, Josephina must weigh all of her options and determine the fate that will ultimately shape her future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398480407

C L Dalton

Chanelle Dalton is an avid reader and author of her first-time novel A Thread of Fate. Chanelle is a teacher and has been working in lower primary since leaving school. In her spare time Chanelle enjoys travelling and experiencing new cultures. An introvert, Chanelle enjoys spending time reading, writing and completing puzzles. Chanelle is a lover of music ranging from The Beatles to Miley Cyrus and can often be found at a concert. Chanelle is also a lover of the theatre and loves a good musical. She currently lives in Brisbane, Australia, with her husband and two fur babies.

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About the Author

Chanelle Dalton is an avid reader and author of her first-time novel A Thread of Fate. Chanelle is a teacher and has been working in lower primary since leaving school. In her spare time Chanelle enjoys travelling and experiencing new cultures.

An introvert, Chanelle enjoys spending time reading, writing and completing puzzles. Chanelle is a lover of music ranging from The Beatles to Miley Cyrus and can often be found at a concert. Chanelle is also a lover of the theatre and loves a good musical. She currently lives in Brisbane, Australia, with her husband and two fur babies.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the dreamers out there. Believe in yourself and take the leap, for you can achieve anything you set your mind to.

Copyright Information ©

Chanelle Dalton 2023

The right of Chanelle Dalton to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398480384 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398480407 (ePub e-book)

ISBN 9781398480391 (Audiobook)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

To my husband, Brandon. Thank you for supporting my crazy ideas and following me as I leap off the edge into the unknown.

To Maddie, thank you for being my first reader and hype woman. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to write this book and take the leap to publish it.

Dad, thank you for instilling your work ethic on me and teaching me to keep striving to succeed. At so many points I could have given up and said this was too hard, but I pushed through and worked through my doubt. It is because of those lessons that I have managed to write a book and become a published author.

To Kath, you are always there to build me up and support me in every way. Your unwavering belief in me never ceases to amaze me. Thank you for believing in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

To Austin Macauley and all the fabulous people who worked on this book – Thank you for taking a chance with a first-time author and helping my dream become a reality; this book wouldn’t have been possible without you.

Lastly thank you to every single reader who has picked up, purchased, or borrowed this book. You had faith in an unknown author and spent the time to read the words I have put into a novel.

Without all of you none of this would have been possible, so thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Chapter One

The fog that travels in with the dawn is finally creeping across the forest floor as the rain subsides. I rub my cold hands together as I make my way back through the woods towards the house. The weather has been quite mild for this time of year, but the rain has brought a lot of fog through the trees. I trek back through the trees, not needing a path to show me the way.

A crack sounds behind me and I stop, turning quickly to survey the space behind me. A superstitious person would be looking for some creature, told in stories passed down through generations. My mama and papa would tell us stories of creatures who came to Earth to do Hell’s bidding.

The tales told of the creatures taking young, usually naughty, children to Hell to serve as slaves. My father also scoffed at these stories and would say the only way to get a ticket to Hell is to make a deal with the Devil himself.

I have also found my father’s logic to be more accurate than that of the stories told to young children to prevent them from misbehaving. George, my best friend, and I have been visiting these woods for many years and had never seen any creature worse than deer within the trees.

When I reach the trees at the edge of our property, I take a quick glance around the space, ensuring no one is around. From the position of the sun, I can tell it is early dawn, but I still take a few minutes to scan my surroundings. I doubt anyone would be around this time of the morning but I don’t take any chances as I make my way from the woods towards the house.

Mother would throw a fit if she knew I was wandering through the woods, alone, in the early hours of the morning. She would probably keel over if she knew I had been venturing out into the woods alone for the last three years. My morning wood visits have been a constant in my life since I was thirteen, it is only recently that I have started taking them alone.

Previously, George would take the unmarked path with me and we would spend the early hours practising hand to hand combat, as well as the art of moving through the forest undetected as we spied on unsuspecting animals. Since he travelled to the city for his father’s business, the trips to the woods have been a solo endeavour; not that it has stopped me practising various moves that George had taught me. A small smile tugs at my lips as I wonder if my mother would be more upset about me going into the woods alone, or the fact that I am well versed in combat.

Quickly, I dash across the clearing between the tree line and the stone wall that runs along the side of our property. In a manoeuvre I have perfected over the years, I swing myself up towards the trellis and grab onto the top of the structure. With ease, I scramble over the wall and plop down onto the lush grass of our gardens.

I stay crouched for a few minutes as I take in my surroundings. The grounds are quiet, and no movement can be seen within the windows. Casually, I stand and walk back towards the house, letting myself in through the French doors that lead in from the porch. The house is quiet, as it always is this time of morning.

I make my way up the stairs and let myself into my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me. Once inside my bedroom, I slip off my trousers, tunic, and coat; hiding them under my bed to prevent anyone from finding them.

I was ten years old when my parents told me I could no longer wear trousers and had to start dressing like a lady if I were to secure a husband. I sigh and walk into the bathroom that adjoins my bedroom to get ready for the day.

As I’m running a brush through my hair, a loud knock sounds at my bedroom door. ‘Josie!’ I hear my sister shout from the other side. Josie! Josie!

Come in, Rose, I call back, not bothering to get up from my seat at the dresser.

Rosemary bursts into the room, her baby pink nightgown flying out behind her. I don’t bother to turn as she walks towards me, instead I watch her in the mirror. Her brown eyes scrutinise me and she tuts a sound of disapproval.

Why didn’t you ask Ida to do that? She says as she reaches my shoulder, gesturing at the brush.

Ida has worked for our family for years. She was previously our wet nurse when we were younger and now she assists around the house. Rosemary is more than happy to let Ida do everything for her, including dressing her and brushing her hair.

I put the brush down on the desk and turn to face my baby sister. Her face is still round with youth and her red curls and freckles complete her look of innocence.

I don’t need her to brush my hair, I reply, letting a disapproving tone seep into my voice.

Rosemary gives me a knowing look and picks up the brush, turning me back around to face the mirror.

As I watch my sister brush through my hair and expertly braid it, I try to find the similarities between us.

Rosemary is all sunshine and flowers, she wears pretty dresses, is a wizard when it comes to hair and beauty, and is round and soft as a woman should be.

I, on the other hand, am all angles and shadows. My dirty blonde hair is usually in straggles down my back. I resent wearing dresses and struggle to feel comfortable in the tight fabrics. I would much rather read a novel than practise my sewing or musical work.

From a young age, I can remember begging my parents for fencing lessons, as George was undertaking them; much to my dismay they refused, but they couldn’t stop me sneaking into my father’s study and spending hours teaching myself to read.

Our parents always say they had one child born to please and one child born to lead, which displeases them greatly. This social season will be my first as a marriageable woman and my father has raised my dowry in hopes of marrying me off quickly.

Rosemary finishes braiding my hair and ties it neatly at my neck. All you need is a little blush in your cheeks and you’re perfect. She smiles, happy with her work.

Rose is one year younger than me and is always trying to make me ‘pretty’. She usually fusses around me and helps pick out my dresses each morning.

Tonight is the first dance of the season, she gushes excitedly. Who are you going to dance with first?

I sigh and turn around on the stool, as Rose sits down on my bed.

Hopefully, no one, I tell her, making my way to the dresser to pull out a day dress.

Come on, Josephina, Rose says, standing up to help me select a dress. Don’t you want to find a husband?

Not really, I reply, stepping back to let Rosemary select my dress. It is redundant.

Rosemary gasps and turns around to face me, her hands at her mouth. How can you say that? You can’t live with Mother and Father forever, who will take care of you?

I can take care of myself, I reply matter-of-factly. Rose gives me a worried look but continues looking for a dress for me to wear.

Rosemary finds me a green linen dress to wear and tells me to put it on while she gets ready for the day. I dress quickly and make my way downstairs to the dining room. Our house is grand; thanks to the money my papa made when he was alive. My grandpa was a merchant and would travel across the land to sell and trade his wares.

He made a big fortune a few years before he passed away, and now my father hires people to travel and sell for him. We also own land in a few of the neighbouring villages, which bring in a lot of money each year.

The house we live in was purchased by my papa as a grand gesture for my grandma, when they passed away my father took over the property. We have two separate dining spaces, but the larger of the two is used for holding formal events; we use the small dining room for our family meals. The small dining room is grand enough, with a table fit for 12 people and large French inspired windows covering one wall that overlooks the gardens.

The table is set for breakfast, with my mother and father at one end, and places set for Rose and I at the other. I take my seat at the end of the table and grab some bread and butter from plates that decorate the table.

Good morning, I say to my parents as I take a bite of the bread.

Good morning, Josephina, my father replies. He never uses shortened versions of our names and chastises us when he hears my sister and I doing it. What do you have planned for today?

I was thinking about taking my book into the garden… I start, not missing the disgruntled look on my mother’s face.

We’re going into town today, Rosemary announces as she dances into the room and kisses both my parents on their cheeks before sitting down next to me.

My father beams at Rosemary like she’s his most prized possession, she probably is. My mother looks unaffected as always. It is not like my mother was a bad person, she just never had much time for her children. She was incredibly beautiful in her youth and spent a lot of time dancing and drinking, even after she married our father. She was always holding parties at the house and never had much time for her children.

‘That’s what the help is for’ she would say when Rosemary would ask for a bedtime story, that was years ago and she soon learnt to stop asking.

I always thought of my father as someone who liked to collect pretty things, and when Rosemary came along, she fit right into his collection. I, however, did not.

Why? I ask, annoyed that Rosemary has made plans for me without informing me.

Because we need to pick up our dresses for tonight, she explains, filling her plate of food. And I can’t go into town by myself. Rosemary works the innocent and helpless angle perfectly as she bats her long eyelashes at me. I know full well she can go into town by herself.

Josephina will go with you, my father informs her, not offering the option to me.

I sigh and kick Rose under the table.

Chapter Two

After breakfast, Rosemary tells me to wait for her in the foyer while she grabs her bag of coins from her room. Our dresses are no doubt on Father’s tab, so I wonder where else she is planning to drag me today.

Rosemary returns a few minutes later, and I notice she has added a white scarf to her daisy yellow dress. I eye her questionably but she just smiles.

What do you need coins for? I ask her as we made our way through the front doors.

In case I see something I want to buy, she replies, a small smile on her lips.

I’m only taking you to the dress shop, I tell her as I take the front steps two at a time. Luckily, this dress is long, so I was able to put my boots on underneath.

Rosemary smiles at me and skips down the steps, her slippers slapping on the concrete.

At the bottom of the steps, I turned left to cut across the gardens and slip out of the side gate hidden in the stone wall behind the house.

Where are you going? Rose calls as she looks towards the stables on the other side of the house.

We’re walking today, I call back without looking at her to hide the grin on my face.

The walk into town is not far, twenty minutes at most. It was taking a little longer today as Rosemary was complaining every second step and stopping to pick flowers every other step.

Come on, Rose! I said in frustration as she stopped to fix her slipper. We want to get there before lunch!

My feet are hurting, Rose complains as she stumbles behind me.

The quicker we get there the quicker you’ll be able to see your dress, I say without turning to face my sister.

This made her speed up and we had soon reached the edge of town. We approach the bar that sits on the edge of town and I pull Rosemary closer to me. Over the years, we have heard stories about this place. Men come here to drink, gamble, and make deals they can’t hope to repay.

There’s always been gossip around ‘Tophet’. No one knows where the name of the pub originated but it is said it was opened by a foreign traveller and the word means ‘lucky place’. As we pass Tophet, I peer through the darkened windows and think that the place looks anything but lucky.

There have always been rumours that some men have entered the drink house and never been seen again, or they have made bargains with other men in the pub and have gone mad trying to repay their debts. My father would tell us that the men in the drink house worked for Satan and anyone who entered the place was looking to ‘do a deal with the devil’.

A lot of the town scoffs at these rumours but my papa would always warn us of making any type of deal or promise with a stranger. I hurry past the pub, pulling Rosemary with me and into the safer part of town.

Further into town, Rosemary lingers at a variety of different windows. I hang back as she speaks to the florist about which flowers are in season.

She buys two, small stemmed, flowers from the florist; one is peach and the other is a ruby red. She places the peach rose in her hair, threading the stem through her braid. She then turns to me, the red rose extended towards me. I sigh at her but incline my head to allow her to place the flower within my hair.

Placing a flower in my hair is not something I would have chosen to do myself but Rosemary’s enthusiasm has me smiling along with her.

The red goes well with your complexion, she tells me as she finishes placing the flower in my hair.

Peach suits me as it’s a soft and feminine colour, she informs me as we walk further into the town. Red is a strong colour, like you. I smile at this.

Rosemary also stops at the apothecary which sits in the centre of town. She longingly looks through the window at the different vials.

Please, she asks with longing in her eyes as she makes her way towards the door.

I sigh but push the door open for her. She squeals and enters the store, me following close behind her.

Nora, the owner of the apothecary, is quite different to most of the women in town. She moved here recently, travelling by boat from a distant land. She has tattoos that cover her hands and wrap up her arms. Some of the ink is done in golden tones, which pops on her almond coloured skin.

She is often wearing long skirts made of soft, flowing material that kiss the ground, swaying when she walks. She pairs these with t-shirts, which a lot of the women in town frown upon. I always think she looks comfortable in what she wears but that doesn’t stop the woman in the town from gossiping about her.

As Nora approaches us, her bangles clang together.

Good morning, she greets us as she places some dried flowers onto one of the shelves.

Since Nora took over the apothecary, it has changed quite a bit. Nora prefers to create natural medicines and often uses herbs, flowers, and plants that grow around the town. She also sells many different rocks, which she once explained have different properties depending on the stone. Her store always smells of various flowers and herbs as she mixes the tonics in a back room.

Above the counter hangs some type of net with some type of bird feathers hanging from it.

"That is an asubakacin. She sees me looking at the object. I acquired it a few years back from a distant land. They are said to protect the owner and prevent bad spirits or actions coming your way."

I look up at the asubakacin as it moves in the breeze made from Nora’s movements. I have heard gossip from a few of the women in town that Nora practises witchcraft, but everyone knows that’s just gossip. I have never believed in magic and find it hard to believe that magic exists when I have never seen one ounce of it.

I smile at Nora and walk towards Rosemary, hoping to hurry her along.

This smells amazing. Rose holds up a small bottle for me to sniff.

That is Lavender, Rose, and Vanilla, Nora tells Rosemary as she approaches us. It is a very light and feminine scent, created to be worn all day.

Rosemary smiles at me and pushes the lid back on.

You choose one, she gestures towards the shelf.

I have never owned a fragrance in my life and I hold my hands up. Oh no.

You must, Rosemary grabs my hand and pulls me towards the shelf.

I wouldn’t even know where to start, I say, overwhelmed by the amount of bottles.

What type of scents do you like? Nora prompts. Or think about your personality.

Rosemary smiles. She is strong, headstrong. I narrow my eyes at my sister.

She reads and enjoys gulping down her tea rather than drinking it, Rosemary laughs, and I continue to glare at her.

"She doesn’t need a husband. I nod in agreement, but she does love love. I’m back to glaring at her again. Well you do! You’re always reading those novels. She can ride a horse but is terrible at sewing. She wears trousers and boots around the house because she loathes dresses. I could go on."

Nora laughs and plucks a bottle off the shelf. I think this will be perfect for you.

She hands me the bottle and I take it gingerly. I uncork the bottle and take a tentative sniff of the liquid inside. Instantly, orange fills my senses, followed quickly by a burst of sage.

I smell oranges and sage, but there’s something else I can’t quite place. I take another sniff.

Nora smiles. Very good. This perfume is made up of blood orange, sage, and patchouli. It is a very unique scent for a very unique woman.

I smile at her and re-cork the bottle.

How much? Rosemary asks, digging into her coin purse.

Nora