by Darcy Burke
“If he finds it, what makes you think he’ll tell you?”
“He said he plans to sell the entire collection. Why wouldn’t he sell it to me? I offered him a fair price.”
“Until someone offers him more,” Grey said darkly, echoing the thoughts seeping into Cate’s mind. Someone had already approached the previous Lord Norris about the tapestry, and she imagined that Septon would want to obtain it as well. He could offer a far greater sum than her two hundred pounds.
Cate stepped through a gap in a four-foot-tall hedge. “I’m simply going to have to persuade him to sell it to me and no one else.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m not sure.” Cate tried to think of something he might want, something with which she could barter. If she could offer him something in return, something beyond money, perhaps he’d let her buy the tapestry. A knot of frustration formed between her shoulder blades. None of this mattered if he didn’t actually find the tapestry in the first place. She could only hope he would look for it.
They walked in silence for several minutes, Cate’s mind churning with thoughts and contingency plans.
“What about the previous Lord Norris’s death?” Grey asked. “If Lord Norris suspects it may not have been an accident, shouldn’t we do the same?”
This was one of the many concerns weighing on Cate. Yes, the previous Lord Norris may have been prone to an excessive imagination, but he’d known the tapestry was a map. How would he have learned that? “Do you suppose whoever tried to buy the tapestry told him it was a map? How else would he have known?”
Grey frowned. She looked over at Cate, her green-brown eyes squinting against the bright afternoon, despite the brim of her hat. “But why would they have told him? It makes more sense to let him think it’s just an old tapestry.”
“Agreed.” She pressed her lips together and kicked at a small rock, sending it bouncing across the uneven ground. “My brilliant plan to find Dyrnwyn and surprise the world with my discovery just became a good deal more complicated.”
From the comfort of his leather desk chair, Elijah stared out at the sloping lawn. The visit from Miss Bowen had thrown him into a bit of turmoil, and he wasn’t yet certain if that was good or bad. The good was Miss Bowen. She was an unexpected acquaintance and one he thought he might like—if he’d wanted to make the acquaintance of a young woman, which he hadn’t. He wasn’t in the market for a wife and never planned to be. He’d been forced into his current role and he’d be damned if he’d change everything about himself to suit it. He’d envisioned and accepted a lonely life. Given his own experiences, he would be far happier that way. The alternative was pain and misery.
On second thought, perhaps Miss Bowen wasn’t the good after all.
The bad were the questions he now had about this tapestry-map and any role it might’ve played in his brother’s death. He’d gone from simply mourning his brother to wondering if there was something nefarious afoot. He’d told Miss Bowen he didn’t have time for such things, but in truth, he found this puzzle far more intriguing than learning how to be a bloody earl.
After she and her companion had left an hour or so ago, he’d sent for his valet, Wade, and shared everything he’d learned. Barnabas Wade had been Elijah’s batman in Australia and had accepted Elijah’s invitation to accompany him to England. He was both servant and friend—the only one Elijah had.
“My lord?” Wade had gone to fetch Garber, the butler who’d been at Cosgrove for going on fifteen years.
Elijah tried not to wince as he turned his head toward the doorway. He was so used to “Major,” especially from Wade.
“Yes, Wade, come in. And Garber.” Elijah didn’t bother inviting the butler to sit since he knew the man would refuse such familiarity. “I hope I’m not disturbing your duties?” Elijah was still growing accustomed to having such a large household. Hell, he was still growing accustomed to having any household.
Garber was of medium height and his thick, dark hair was peppered with gray. He presented a rather elegant figure and could easily have passed himself off as a gentleman—probably better than Elijah could. The butler stood behind the pair of chairs that faced Elijah’s desk and inclined his head. “I am always at your pleasure, my lord. Is there something you require?”
“Only information.” He flashed a look at Wade, who’d taken up a post near the bookcase. They’d discussed what Elijah ought to ask the butler. “Earlier, my guest came in search of a tapestry. It’s notable in that it was small, only about three feet square, and was perhaps a . . . treasure map?” It sounded ludicrous even with knowing that multiple people believed it to be just that.
“I know precisely which tapestry you mean. His lordship—that is, the prior earl who wasn’t your brother—once told me there were those who believed it was a treasure map, though he believed that was utter nonsense. It doesn’t resemble a map at all. One gentleman, obsessed with the tapestry and the fact that it could be a map, annoyed his lordship so grievously with his incessant interest that his lordship stowed the item away in a storeroom.” Garber scoffed. “I can assure you it was a dusty old tapestry and nothing more. It wasn’t even particularly well stitched, if I might be permitted to observe. The back should have looked as pristine as the front, but there were several imperfections.”
Pieces began to fit together in Elijah’s mind. “Did you tell Matthew it was a treasure map?”
Garber clasped his hands behind his back. “I did, and I must admit I regret doing so. He believed it immediately.” Clearly, Garber didn’t share that belief, but would his opinion have changed if he’d known that someone had tried to steal it?
“Are you aware someone attempted to steal the tapestry?”
Garber looked aghast, as if one of the footmen had just dropped a serving dish. “I don’t know anything about a theft. Are you quite certain this occurred?” The butler perhaps thought that if he hadn’t been informed of something, it hadn’t actually happened. In his short time here, Elijah had deduced that Garber demanded order and excellence. He likely didn’t tolerate being ignorant of anything.
But was Elijah quite certain? His brother had said so, but until Miss Bowen’s visit today, Elijah had ignored the entire account, given Matthew’s propensity for telling exaggerated tales.
“It’s unfortunate, my lord, that you cannot query Mason, his lordship’s valet,” Garber said.
Elijah sat straight in his chair. “Where is he?”
“He left, my lord, immediately following your brother’s demise.” Garber’s typically austere brows pitched low over his dark brown eyes, which narrowed with disapproval. “His abrupt departure caused quite a stir.”
“Why is that?” Elijah asked.
“He traveled with his lordship to Bath to visit your mother. They left Cosgrove together, but Mason wasn’t with his lordship on the return trip. He arrived here the day after his lordship’s accident.”
Could Mason have been part of the plot to steal the tapestry? If indeed there had been a plot. “The coachman disappeared from the scene of the accident. Is it possible Mason also abandoned the wreckage and then arrived here as if he hadn’t traveled with my brother?”
Garber took on an alarming pallor. “I hadn’t considered that, my lord. I honestly couldn’t say.”
“Of course you couldn’t. I didn’t mean to imply you knew anything of what transpired regarding the accident.” Elijah needed to find and speak with Mason. “Have you any idea where he is now?”
Regaining a bit of his color, Garber said, “I’m afraid I don’t, my lord.”
“Surely someone on the staff knows where he’s gone. Conduct a thorough inquiry and report back to me. Wade will assist you.”
“Very good, my lord.” Garber hesitated. “May I offer another piece of information that may be helpful?”
Elijah nodded. “Please.”
“Your brother had a visit that precipitated his search for the tapestry. A pair of men—I dare
say they weren’t gentlemen despite their manner of dress—called asking after the tapestry, which prompted his lordship to query me about its location.”
“I see.” These had to have been the other interested party, aside from Septon. “Do you recall their names?”
“I do not, my lord.” His back straightened, making him appear even more rigid, which Elijah wouldn’t have thought possible. “My apologies, it was over a year ago.”
“Don’t concern yourself, Garber. You’ve been quite helpful.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The butler turned and flicked a glance at Wade as he made for the door.
“A moment, if you please, Wade,” Elijah said. “He’ll find you later, Garber.”
With a final nod, Garber left.
Elijah looked at Wade, who moved closer to the desk. “I want you to ascertain whether Garber is certain the tapestry is no longer at Cosgrove. I’ve no reason to doubt what Matthew indicated in his letter, but I wonder if we ought to search for it nonetheless.”
“I’ll see what I can learn.” He gave Elijah a determined look. “And we’ll track down this Mason chap.”
“I hope so. We’ll need to add discovering the identity of these men to our growing list.”
“We’ll do that too,” Wade said confidently, with his ever-present amiable and earnest disposition.
Elijah appreciated the man’s company more than he would ever know. He’d forecasted a lonely existence, and the entrance of Wade into his life had been a welcome addition. “Thank you, Wade. I shall be eternally glad you saw fit to follow me to England.”
“Aside from the weather, it’s not a bad place.” With a quick smile, he turned and left.
Matthew’s letter sat before him. Elijah had located it in the desk after Miss Bowen had left. He’d read through it three times to detect any clues he might have missed, but there was nothing. Two pages that included a weather report, an update on their mother—of that pair of topics, Elijah couldn’t decide which was drearier—and an in-depth description of some of Matthew’s livelier antics since becoming earl. Parties. Racing. Gambling. Women. Matthew had aspired to such a life, and that he’d been able to live it for even a short time made Elijah smile, even if he didn’t understand it the slightest bit.
Buried near the end of the missive, Matthew made brief mention of the treasure map, saying only what Elijah had shared with Miss Bowen. Well, not only. Matthew had also revealed the identity of one of the parties who’d been interested in purchasing the tapestry: Lord Septon, the very antiquary whose letter offering to assist with Cosgrove’s collection had arrived just two days ago. Was Septon somehow involved with Matthew’s accident? And what of these two mystery men—had they been involved?
If it had indeed been an accident. Carriage accidents weren’t unusual—Matthew’s coach had been found wrecked at the bottom of a ravine near the road about ten miles from Cosgrove—but the absence of his coachman and his valet or any other retainer had been dubious. The coachman had never turned up, and the authorities had deduced that he’d run off in fear. Nothing had been stolen and Matthew’s injuries were commensurate with an accident of that nature. However, now, after learning of this map and the attempted theft of it, the event took on a far more suspicious tone.
Had the coachman caused the accident for some reason? Was the accident somehow connected to the map? Perhaps the person who’d attempted to steal the tapestry at Cosgrove had tried a second time, thinking Matthew had carried it with him to Bath. Had he?
Elijah supposed he should visit his mother and inquire. Thinking of her pulled forth an involuntary shudder. He hadn’t seen her in years, and he didn’t miss her. That he’d grown to appreciate his brother and miss him meant Elijah was able to forgive, but then his mother’s offenses had been far greater. Matthew had simply gone along with her treatment of Elijah, and why shouldn’t he? She’d bestowed love and affection on her first son and to him, she was the world and the sun and the moon combined. While to Elijah, she was . . . Hell.
Even so, he’d call on her if it would help his current cause. He owed it to Matthew.
In the meantime, he definitely needed to locate Mason. And hope the valet could provide some illumination into this increasingly curious affair.
Chapter 3
Elijah surveyed his appearance in the glass in his dressing chamber. He looked odd in civilian clothing, particularly for an event such as the dinner party he was attending at Bassett Manor. He’d only ever worn his regimental costume for such occasions.
“You look just as you should,” Wade said, brushing something off Elijah’s shoulder.
Elijah tugged at the bottom of the coat, adjusting the fit, which was already superb thanks to Wootton Bassett’s accomplished tailor. “I suppose.”
“Would it help to wear a sword?”
Elijah’s mouth curved up. “Perhaps, but I think that’s frowned upon.” He turned from the glass. “Thank you, Wade. You did an excellent job with the cravat.”
“I did practice, my lord.”
Elijah strode from the dressing room into his bedchamber, with Wade following close behind. “Still nothing about the elusive Mason?”
“A bit of news, finally. I was able to speak with the last footman today—he’s been ill, but was back at his post. He said Mason hailed from Bradford on Avon.”
Elijah paused and turned. “That’s just outside Bath. I’m surprised he isn’t a weaver.”
“Apparently his father and elder brothers are just that. Mason, on the other hand, chose to go into service.”
“I see. I hope you thanked the footman for his assistance.”
“Profusely, my lord.”
Elijah pivoted and continued toward the door. “Hopefully our trip to Bath will prove fruitful on both fronts—locating Mason and tracking down the tapestry’s hiding place.” After discussing the tapestry with Garber, Wade had determined it wasn’t at Cosgrove. This naturally begged the question of where it could be. They’d concluded the likeliest place was Elijah’s mother’s house in Bath, and he planned to visit in the next few days. Summoning the patience necessary to tolerate her company would take at least that long.
Wade followed him as they exited the bedchamber to the corridor that spilled into the upper gallery. “Indeed, my lord. Will you be sharing any of this with Miss Bowen this evening?”
Miss Bowen. Elijah suspected she was behind his invitation to Bassett Manor tonight. She was a guest of the Foxcrofts and undoubtedly wanted to plead her case for the tapestry again. He looked forward to seeing what other information she might divulge about the entire affair, such as the identities of the other potential buyers of the tapestry. Since she was involved in the antiquarian world, it seemed logical that she would be able to provide assistance.
“I don’t know,” Elijah said. “I suppose I shall see how the conversation goes.”
Elijah passed the large, gilt-framed portrait of Lord Norris—the previous-previous, as Miss Bowen had referred to him. He’d been Elijah’s father’s cousin, though Elijah struggled to see any family resemblance. His father had been tall, fair-haired, athletic, where this image of Lord Norris portrayed the former earl with thinning brown hair and a burgeoning girth that had only expanded over time. Elijah had learned the latter from the staff, along with the fact that Norris had also been rather short of stature. Clearly, they came from opposite ends of the family with regard to physical appearance.
The same was apparently also true of their temperament, given Norris’s obsession with antiquities and his utter lack of concern for anything else. Garber had informed Elijah that the earl had overseen a scheme in which he’d defrauded the district’s residents—collecting tributes, or really bribes, and using the local MPs as his personal puppets in Parliament. He’d died shortly after being exposed by Montgomery Foxcroft, the very fellow hosting tonight’s dinner party.
They reached the grand staircase. As Elijah began his descent, he tossed a glance at Wade. “We’ll travel to B
ath in three days.”
“Will we stay with your mother?” Wade asked.
“Good God, no.” Elijah’s lips twisted with distaste. “We’ll stay at an inn.” Or set up camp somewhere. Anywhere was preferable to residing under the same roof as his frigid mother.
Wade nodded. “The coach is waiting.”
“Thank you.” Elijah turned toward the foyer.
“Good luck!” Wade called after him.
Elijah made his way outside to the landau, the top of which was open. Elijah had requested it so that he could enjoy the night air. After so many years of spending a great deal of time out-of-doors, he found his new role poring over accounts and ledgers to be constricting. He looked forward to the day when he was well-versed in his duties as the earl, so that he could return to some of his previous pursuits.
He settled himself into the landau, and the driver took them on their way. What had his previous pursuits included, exactly? Riding, which he still did every day. Building, which had been a necessity in the expanding Australian colony. Hunting, though that truthfully wasn’t his favorite activity. What he really ought to do was spend some time with his tenants. He’d taken a tour last week, but overall the people had been aloof. Could he blame them? They’d apparently suffered a criminal and then Matthew, who’d visited the tenants exactly once.
The pastoral countryside passed by, in some ways familiar and in others completely foreign. After two several-month voyages across multiple oceans, and years in an isolated locale, his “home” felt like anything but. The grandeur of his bedchamber made him ill at ease, the fussing of the servants was unwelcome, and the responsibility he now bore as earl suffused him with restlessness. He told himself the situation would improve once he grew acclimated, but he wished the adjustment would happen faster.