“Pointed straight at them.”
“They won’t be able to tell from the distance.”
“The third thing is that sunset today is about 9 p.m. I just read it in an almanac.”
“It isn’t sunset yet.”
“That is true, but we eat dinner at 7 p.m. Mother will be curious if we are both missing for dinner. She will search for us, and old Hubert if he hasn’t died at the marigold bed, will tell mother that we took the trap, and she will send someone in search of us. I have my reputation and telescope to protect. We should go home.”
Amy looked at the sky. “If you insist. Pack up your telescope and we’ll go.” She sounded disappointed.
As they descended Camp Hill, Amy caught sight of two figures riding away from Hillfield House, but by the time the trap reached the road they were out of sight around the curve in the road.
“See Miss Impatient Emma, if we had waited a few minutes longer we would have known who they were.”
Emma just shook her head as they started along the road to home.
As they were passing the path to the mill, Amy brought the trap to a halt.
“Listen!”
“For what?” asked Emma. “All I hear is the river.”
“No listen closely. Can’t you hear the sound of the horses splashing through the river?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Now my sister’s hallucinating.”
Amy hurried off the trap and through the trees and bushes that crowded the path to the river. Emma, who was game for anything, especially mysterious things, shrugged, and jumped off the trap and followed her.
Just before the trees and bushes ended only a few feet from the river’s edge, Amy stopped and peered across the still swollen waters.
“What are we looking for?” Emma asked as she caught up with her.
“Shh!” said Amy motioning her sister to be quiet.
Twilight was now rapidly pushing out the day and combined with the trees overhanging the river, shrouded the scene in premature darkness. Across the churning waters the old ruined mill sat beneath a canopy trees. Their attention was immediately attracted by the lone window of the mill. It glowed with a dull light.
“There’s someone in the ruined mill,” whispered Emma.
After glancing around, Amy said in a low voice: “It might be dangerous. We better leave.”
If she had been alone she would have stayed longer. She might even have tried to ford the river, but she could not take a chance on endangering Emma. That night, her concern for her sister may have saved her life.
Chapter 11
Ben was admitted to Sibbridge House the next morning by the butler.
“Good morning, Branson. Today, I am here to speak with Lady Amy.”
“I will inform her, sir,” said Branson as he went to find her.
Ben could see through the open door of the drawing room that Lady Sibbridge was propped up in a chair with her feet resting on a footstool. She had a cloth over her eyes and seemed to be asleep. By her side, Mattie was sitting in a chair engaged in whitework embroidery. Seeing that it was Ben that had been admitted, she got up quietly from her chair and setting down her needlework came out to the front hall.
“Good morning, Lady Mathilde,” Ben said pleasantly.
“Good morning, Sir Benjamin. I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I acted rudely when I was with Mr. Throckmorton. I hope you will forgive me.”
“You did nothing of the kind, Mattie. May I call you Mattie as your family does?”
Mattie was pleased at that.
“Is your mother unwell?” he asked with concern.
“She began to feel unwell yesterday after the Throckmortons left.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Is she running a fever?”
“No, nothing like that. From time to time she feels unwell, but it is not usually serious. She feels a little better this morning. That’s why she is sitting in the drawing room rather than lying in bed. Yesterday afternoon she had to lie down. She even missed dinner.”
“That was unfortunate.”
“Not to everyone, Sir Benjamin. She was not the only one who missed dinner. I got to eat alone with Papa. Please don’t tell Mama what I just said. She doesn’t know.”
He held his fingers to his lips.
“I will keep your confidence. And you may call me Ben, if you wish.”
“Thank you, but at my age it would not be polite to refer to an older person by his first name.” She glanced at her mother who had not moved. “I better get back to Mama.”
He nodded to her with a slight bow as she returned to her needlework, just as Amy came downstairs.
“Good morning, Ben. Shall we go into the sitting room?”
As they entered, Ben frowned.
“Do I look old?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Mattie seemed to feel I was too old to be addressed by my name, or at least the diminutive of it.”
“My sister conforms to the rules of polite society to a greater extent than Emma or I.”
Ben smiled at her as he sat down. “I think you exaggerate by suggesting that you or Emma conform to any rules at all.”
“We’re not as bad as all that,” said Amy laughing, and then she turned serious. “Have you found anything in the Bristol newspaper?”
“I spent a goodly amount of time on it last night. In fact I didn’t turn in until past one. I found some items of interest, but it is difficult to know if they are in any way connected with your family.”
Ben removed the newspaper from his riding satchel and spread it on the small side table next to where he was sitting.
“The advertisements on the front page are mostly for departing vessels, ship’s chandlers and the like. Most of the articles seem not to favor any possible connection, being mostly of local matters, although it is difficult to know what could have significance if you have no idea what you are looking for. It could be almost anything.”
“Is there nothing in any of the articles that might mean something,” she asked almost pleadingly.
“Maybe. I decided to initially set aside the more mundane items and look at the more dramatic.” He opened the newspaper to an inside page. “For instance, notice this story of a wine-merchant who was beaten and robbed. The paper says he was being cared for by his housekeeper and was near death. The story gives the impression he has no close family. This is of interest only because of the possibility that he might have a sizable estate and no near heirs.”
“How could that possibly concern me?”
“On the face of it, I don’t see how it could. But if you were sent this newspaper for a reason, then something in it relates to you. We just don’t know what it is. Here is another item of news about the death of a wealthy ship owner, Sir Hugh Ansalen. But he did have an heir. His son was with him at the time of his death. That news story doesn’t seem to have any connection either, except that it involves shipping and your pouch was brought to you by an old sailor.”
“I’ve looked through the entire paper several times,” said Amy. “Most everything in it seems to involve shipping in one way or another.”
“And that is our problem,” said Ben. “There are many maritime related items in the paper because of Bristol being an important seaport. Here is the poignant story of the body of a drowned woman and baby washed up on the coast twelve miles west of Bristol.” Ben reads: “They are thought to be the wife and child of a sea captain who was drowned when the coach he was riding in fell into a river along with its passengers. The bodies of the captain, and a local lawyer and his clerk were recovered, but the captain’s wife and child, and the captain’s first mate, were swept away, presumably out to sea.” Ben looked up from the paper. “What is annoying is that it doesn’t name the river that was the grave of the coach.”
He turned over another page.
“Here is another item of the sort that might be the reason you were sent the paper. A court battle is, or rather was, being fought by the p
resumed heirs to a rich importer’s business. It makes mention of a lost heir and the nearest relatives are battling for control of the business. What I am trying to do, Amy, is look for something that would be significant and would be something that could engender a threat. Of course, these are twenty years ago and the fights have probably long been resolved. But fights over heirs and inheritance can go on for years. Maybe something that looks insignificant to us could be of great importance.”
“What about the announcements and advertisements?”
“The only thing in the advertisements that is even mildly interesting,” said Ben, “is one of the shipping announcements, and even it is a minor point. I might be reading away more into it than is really there. Most of the notices invite potential passengers or shippers to see the captain or the shipping office. This one,” said Ben pointing it out to Amy, “is an advertisement for the ship, the Bristol Ark. You will notice it says to see the first mate, or the shipping office.”
“Why is that of interest?” she asked.
“Because of the article that mentions the captain and his wife. You have a dead captain and a ship that seems to be missing its captain. The problem is it says the first mate drowned, but in this case you do have a first mate. However, you will note the newspaper says nothing about the first mate’s body being found, so maybe he survived.”
Amy opened the paper to the inside news items and looked at them again.
“Wouldn’t the article on the drowned woman have said if the first mate had been rescued? After all, it was printed three weeks after the drowning? They would have to know by then if he was alive.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Ben. “Newspapers can be careless. They don’t always get things right.”
“The annoying thing about the coach accident,” Ben added, “is that the article doesn’t mention the name of anyone but the lawyer. He was well known locally.”
Then he looked at her with a serious expression.
“We may be looking in the wrong place, Amy. At least for the present. Both you and I know that your mother and father must know something about your origin. They know the answer to the question that so troubles you. Are you their daughter by birth, or did they adopt you? If you are their daughter, then all these other things are just a jolly mystery. If you were adopted, then perhaps it all has some meaning. But even if you are adopted these things might not have the meaning that you and your sister attach to them.”
“I’ve tried to get my mother to tell me something, but she insists I am her daughter and that the locket and other items must have been left for me by mistake.”
Ben frowned and shook his head.
“I’m skeptical that the old man brought the pouch to the wrong place. He obviously brought it here with considerable personal effort. He wouldn’t just stop at any village or town and leave it at some house he picked at random. That just does not make any sense. And if Stockley is the right town, you are to my knowledge the only Amaryllis. I’m not familiar with all the folks that live around here, are there many other Amaryllises—or Amarylli,” he said forcing a grin in an effort to lighten the conversation.
“No,” she told him, “there are none.”
“Don’t be angry at this question but is it possible your mother is trying to hide something? Some secret?”
“With mother I never know. She acts kind of flustered, but she is quite clever when she wants to be.”
“Maybe you need to question her more. What about your father? You said he has lucid periods.”
“At times. Since he was thrown by his horse he has not been in a good condition. I mean his cognition. Sometimes he seems to remember things quite well, but I haven’t been able to find out anything from him yet. I will keep trying because some days he is better than others. The trouble is he says a lot and I don’t know if it means anything or not. He keeps saying I am his girl. But I don’t know.” Amy looked at Ben with deep concern. “I really need to find out if I’m adopted.”
“Amy,” Ben said with deep conviction, “I am sure you have nothing to worry about. When I look at you and your sister Emma, it would be straining the laws of coincidence beyond comprehension to believe that it would be even possible for two families in all of England to produce two young ladies so alike in so many ways. You are obviously the child of the Sibbridges. You look just like them,” he assured her, contradicting slightly what he said the previous day.
Ben stood up to leave, putting the Bristol Gazette and Public Advertiser back into his satchel.
“While I’m in London I will make inquiries. You don’t know who might have some useful information. If I can, I will stop by Lombard Street where Lloyds is located.”
“Lloyds?”
“They are a place where insurance of ships is discussed and takes place. If anyone has information about ships they are the ones. At least someone there should be able to tell me where to find out information about the Bristol Ark, although in the end I might have to go to Bristol, but I cannot do that now. I have some very important business I must attend to.”
As they reached the front door He turned to her.
“Take care of yourself, Amy.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“That I cannot tell, but I will return as soon as I can.”
“But what if anything happens?”
“Write me at my club, it’s on my calling card,” he said, handing her his card. “I gave your mother my card, but here is one for you to keep.”
She looked at the card.
“The Eccentric Club, founded 1781?”
“Yes, indeed, founded in antiquity ten years ago, and already one of the most popular clubs for gentlemen in all of England. What is it they say? Run by the political and scientific luminaries of our time. At any rate, you can reach me there.”
As he started to leave, he paused and took Amy’s petite right hand in his now gloved hands and kissed it.
As soon as Ben was gone, Amy turned and marched into the drawing room. Mattie looked up, surprised.
“Mother,” said Amy firmly, “I know you are just resting and not asleep. I have a question I must ask. There is no thunder and lightning this morning so you must not avoid my question. Mother!”
Her mother stirred, and with a shaky hand moved the cloth that was covering her eyes askance. Her eyes flickered open. It was a very convincing performance.
“Dear?” she asked shakily.
“Mother,” Amy said aggressively.
Her mother was very adept at making her feel guilty, and that really annoyed Amy.
“Mother, it is not fair to not answer my question. Am I adopted?”
Her mother began to cry.
“How can my daughter think she is not mine? What have I done to turn her against me?’
“Mother, I am not against you. I love you. I just need an answer.”
That possibility was fast diminishing as her mother began to sob heavily, her chest heaving up and down, in what Amy knew well was the prelude to hysterics.
Mattie was sitting bolt upright looking at the exchange, her face pale and aghast. A moment later she jumped out of her chair, and ran out of the drawing room, clutching her needlework, and fighting back tears.
She nearly bumped into Emma who had been attracted by the sound of the exchange.
Emma watched the exchange between Amy and her mother for a few minutes in complete silence. This was most unusual for Emma, but she found the proceedings before her fascinating. When her mother seemed to realize that sobbing and hysterics weren’t going to be effective this time, she started on a string of denials. When her mother uttered her final and most emphatic denial, silence fell on the two. Amy was completely drained by the exchange.
After watching the strange silence that had come like the silence after a great storm, Emma knelt beside her mother and took her mother’s still quivering hand.
“Mother,” she said softly and gently, “I know this is so very difficult for you,
but Amy really does deserve an answer. She is not intending to be unkind, but look at her. She must be adopted. I love my sister, but when I look closely at her, I see that Amy’s complexion and hair color are different from the rest of the family.”
Then the ever-analytical Emma also noted other differences which she recited to her mother whose sobs were fading away. She pointed to Amy’s bone structure and how the Sibbridge hair tends to be a blonde that turns to light brown as they get older, while Amy’s tends to be reddish. Amy has higher cheekbones. And they have curved noses while Amy’s nose is straighter—still lady-like, but straighter. Amy looked at her sister, somewhat dumbfounded.
“I do not look that different,” she said softly.
Amy proceeded to express a different point-of-view on her facial structure and features seeing them as more compatible with the Sibbridge family. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. And in truth, Amy made her comments out of guilt at her verbal onslaught of her mother.
Then she turned to Emma and asked her about her comments the previous day when she said Amy looked just like her sisters and her parents.
“I have been thinking about that,” said Emma. “I put too much reliance on the portrait. I’ve been comparing what we look like in real life to what we look like in the painting. Perhaps the artist, consciously or unconsciously, made you look more like the rest of us.
Their mother, who had been looking on the exchange, broke down crying. Amy and Emma looked at her.
“It’s true,” their mother sobbed.
“That I’m not your daughter?” asked Amy.
“No,” their mother replied.
“What do you mean? Amy asked.
“You are our daughter. You are Mattie and Emma’s sister. But you’re also adopted.”
While their mother’s reasoning was odd, they both knew what she meant. When Amy attempted to question her mother further, she quickly arose and ran out of the room.
Amy feeling guilty followed her mother up to her room, but when she knocked on the door of her mother’s room and called to her, her mother did not answer. Through the door Amy could hear muffled sobs. Her mother’s confession, if it really was a confession, had been enough for one day.
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