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Back The Winter Garden Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. ALSO BY ALEXANDRA BELL
  4. DEDICATION
  5. Prologue
  6. Part One
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. Part Two
  15. CHAPTER EIGHT
  16. CHAPTER NINE
  17. CHAPTER TEN
  18. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  19. CHAPTER TWELVE
  20. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  25. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  26. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  31. Part Three
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  53. Acknowledgements
  54. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Beatrice slumped, feeling the great weight of defeat press down heavily upon her shoulders. Her servants had now cleared away most of the debris from the fire and closed up the plum gate. The garden could still open for its final night and guests could wander the candlelit paths, but the supper booths were gone for good and the smell of regret hung so heavily in the air that Beatrice felt sure no one would wish to stay for long. She fully intended to open one final time and at least try to limp over the finishing line, but she no longer had any confidence in her chances of winning. And the one certainty that burned clear and bright as a star within her was that Rosa was to blame. She had stolen the wish from her, and she must somehow be made to pay.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

New Year’s Eve morning, 1838

Rosa had arrived back at Raven Hall in the darkness of early morning, her clothes and hair reeking of smoke and shame. The last few hours felt like a bad dream vividly recalled, and she shuddered as she remembered the screams of the trees that Beatrice loved so dearly. Oh, why had they lashed out at her like that? If they’d only let her take the plums, the dragon would never have attacked, and the fruit would all have been returned to Beatrice after the competition anyway.

Rosa felt a sudden sense of confused anger tangling with the guilt inside her. She knew, deep down, that she was to blame, but that only made her seek more desperately to put the blame elsewhere – with the apple trees for trying to stop her, with Eustace for driving her to such action in the first place, with the Spider Queen herself for offering the chance of a wish that Rosa must do dreadful things to try to win.

She was not cheered when she saw the boy with the withered arm disappearing before her on the staircase, ignoring her cry to stop and fleeing ahead of her into the Long Gallery. He had vanished by the time Rosa entered the room, and she was about to leave when she noticed the portrait of herself – the one Eustace had had commissioned when she became his wife. There was something not quite right about it, and for a moment she stared at the canvas, trying to work out what it was. It seemed that her eyes were a little too far apart in her face, and her hair was a shade darker than it should have been, and … and suddenly it was no longer her face at all, in fact, but Beatrice’s.