Yesterday's Promise

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  A few minutes later Mary and Wally walked from the village green to meet Evy. “Wally’s going to take us to the cottage, Miss Varley. He can take us now. Isn’t that right, Wally? Oh, say, where did Beth go?”

  “She ran off into those trees. I think something is troubling her. Do either of you know what it could be?”

  Mary pursed her lips. “Is she acting daft again? I do wonder what’s come over her. Mum says she’s the one twin who has a melancholy personality. I’ll find her.”

  Before Evy could ask her not to, Mary ran toward the trees, calling her twin sister impatiently.

  Alone, she looked at Wally. He removed his green felt hat and rubbed his locks.

  “Do you know something, Wally? If you do, please tell me. It may be important for Beth’s sake.”

  He shrugged his skinny shoulders and shifted from one foot to the other. “Can’t say as I do, Miss. Beth’s been acting different lately.”

  Evy didn’t like the sound of this. “In what way?”

  “That’s just it, Miss. I don’t know exactly, but lately she’s just more quiet and not wanting to talk to me anymore. She’s more interested in looking after Digger. I guess it’s her mum, too. She’s been after Beth to stay clear of me for months. Guess it’s getting worse. Anyway, I noticed it these last weeks.”

  “Did she mention a sjambok to you, or killing animals in Africa?”

  He tapped his forehead with his thumb. “A sham…what? Nary heard of no sham—whatever you called it, Miss.”

  “Sjambok. It’s a South African whip used by the Boers, people of Dutch ancestry who migrated to the Cape in the sixteen hundreds.”

  Wally looked at her, thoroughly confused. Evy dropped the subject, realizing Beth had not discussed it.

  “You say she avoids you now because of Mrs. Hooper, but you are still friendly with Mary. Could it be that Beth’s strange manner is due to something other than her mother’s wishes?”

  “You’re right there, Miss. Hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “Tell me, Wally, did you mention to Beth about being watched recently?”

  He squinted thoughtfully. “Maybe I did. Yes, last week, after Sunday school, I think it was. I told her where I’d hidden the blanket in Pa’s barn because I thought someone was watching me. She didn’t say anything, though.”

  “Was Mary there when you told this to Beth?”

  He hunched his shoulders. “Don’t think so, Miss. Are you saying Beth’s scared? Is that why she ran away just now?”

  “I don’t know why she ran off, but I think she wished to be left to herself.”

  “She does that more and more lately. Never thought I’d see the day when her and Mary weren’t as thick as milk and cream.” His eyes were alert. “Say, Miss, should I come with you to the cottage now? Pa’s let me have the afternoon to dally. An’ it don’t look like neither Mary nor Beth is coming back.”

  Perhaps having Wally with her would be more helpful than the twins or Mrs. Croft. “All right, if you want to come with me, we’ll go now. I have the vicar’s jingle.”

  “Shall we wait to see if the twins come back?”

  “I think it’s best if we don’t involve them further right now.”

  He looked at her curiously, but said nothing and trotted ahead to get the jingle ready for the short ride to the cottage.

  Evy could tell something was troubling Beth, perhaps even frightening her. She must think of a way to get Beth to confide in her. But she wouldn’t think of that now. Her thoughts were on searching the attic. If someone was still prowling about, then it might mean the intruder was still looking for something important.

  There was something she had never mentioned to anyone, not even to Aunt Grace. She had once walked into Uncle Edmund’s office to see him seated at his desk with a small drawer open. Though she hadn’t understood back then, she now thought that drawer could have been a hidden compartment. Uncle Edmund had looked up to see her standing in the doorway watching him. He made nothing of it, but he had slowly pushed the little drawer closed and, smiling at her, asked if she wanted to talk with him.

  The long-ago incident had been kept deep in her childhood memory until recently. When the intruder searched the desk and located the contents of the envelope, had he also opened a hidden compartment? Or was something of importance still waiting there?

  Crutches or no, I’m going to find out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Evy arrived at the cottage with Wally a short time after leaving the cemetery. Except for the season, everything was much as she remembered it on Allhallows Eve. The summer day sparkled with sunshine, and the crimson and yellow roses were in full bloom. Even the scraggly geranium cutting that she had taken from Aunt Grace’s rectory garden had snapped out of its gloom, and a brave cluster of blossoms was about to burst forth into a cheery pink. A mockingbird in the apple tree was singing merrily at a lookout perch near the top, hopefully serenading a prospective mate.

  Evy glanced up toward the attic window. The green shutter remained missing, and the familiar dark pane looked down on her. The sight awakened the same sensation of watchfulness that she’d felt months ago.

  Evy walked up the garden path to the front door, Wally following behind her. She sensed that he, too, had become wary, though there was little but suspicion to justify their uneasy emotions.

  She unlocked the door, and it opened, beckoning her inward.

  The dimness of the rooms struck her. She told Wally to draw some drapes back. As light flooded in, the shadows fled.

  She entered the pantry, which remained dim, and Wally lit a lamp and held it toward the flight of steps.

  The sight of those steps built along the wall affected her more than she had expected. She managed to hide her sudden pang of fear from Wally, aware that he could already sense the moment’s drama. Just what did he suspect might happen?

  “Can you climb up, Miss Evy?”

  Wally’s nervous whisper caused her fingers to tighten on her crutches. Could she? She knew she must confront her limitations eventually. Did she even have the nerve to climb upward again—toward that closed door? The memory of it flying open, with that dark, ugly blanket rushing at her, left her heart pounding.

  She must face that stairway—of steps toward her affliction. What had transpired here was to her an emotional barrier, strewn with fears out of the past.

  “I can do it with one crutch,” she insisted, aware her voice was tense but steady. “I can use my free hand to balance along the wall. You go ahead with the lamp, Wally, and I’ll follow at my own pace.”

  “If you’re sure, Miss.”

  He climbed slowly as though he, too, were facing an unknown danger that might suddenly jump out at him from the shadows.

  Wally was already inside the attic lighting a second lamp when she entered. He’d leaned her other crutch by the door, and she took it and went across the wooden plank floor to Uncle Edmund’s desk.

  “Everything looks the same, Miss. Nothing different since me and the twins was here.”

  She looked around carefully to make her own assessment. She couldn’t tell if the desk had been tampered with or not, but she checked both trunk lids and found them still locked. It would seem normal for an intruder to have pried the lids open to search the contents. Had the individual known just what to search for and exactly where to search? That gave her pause. If that was so—her gaze went to the desk, her heart sinking—had the intruder known then about the secret drawer? The envelope must have come from there. She moved toward the desk, her eyes searching the area where she remembered seeing Uncle Edmund’s hand—

  Wally breathed in. “Did you hear something, Miss, from below?”

  Evy stood still, listening. At first she heard nothing, just ordinary creaks as the sun beat upon the roof. Then, lightly…the sound of footsteps. There’d been no one here just minutes ago, and she hadn’t heard anyone arrive out front of the cottage.

  She moved to the shutterless win
dow, looking toward the dirt road that led up to Rookswood, seeing the line of trees bordering Grimston Woods.

  “See anything, Miss?” Wally whispered.

  His whisper sounded nervous. Except for the vicar’s jingle, she could see no other vehicle or horse near the gate.

  “It could be one of the twins…or we imagined it. The wind is rising. You know how old wood creaks.” She spoke quietly, discounting her assessment even as she spoke. Surely, no one would try anything harmful now, not with the two of them here. It was too easy to let her imagination run in the wildest directions.

  But it was too soon for the Hooper twins to have gotten here, and Wally knew that also.

  “They’d’ve hollered up, Miss. An’ I doubt Mary’s even found Beth yet.”

  Evy was beginning to think Wally did indeed have suspicions about whether or not she had fallen down the steps the night of the accident. This was no time to feed his fears. She was about to turn from the window when she saw something in the bushes directly below that halted her. What was that?

  Wally hurried beside her. “What do you see, Miss?”

  A horse stood tied near the wall of the cottage, partially concealed by thick bushes.

  Wally looked toward the bushes. “Say, that horse…”

  The excited recognition in his voice alerted her.

  “You’ve seen it before?”

  He nodded at her low voice. “Yes, a fine horse he is, too. I was passing time with Tibbs the other day. Tibbs’s pa is head groom at Rookswood. He was rubbing him down and saying what a fancy one he was.”

  “A Rookswood horse, then?” What could she make of that?

  “Aye, Miss, a Rookswood horse, aright. That’s King’s Knight. He got a ribbon in a show some years ago.”

  “The Dublin horse show?” she asked quickly.

  “Aye, it was, Miss. You know the horse?”

  It belonged to Rogan Chantry. Rogan had won that ribbon. When she made no comment, Wally went on. “I’d recognize King’s Knight anywheres, ’cause of that white diamond on his black head. A beauty, he is. Odd why he’d be here, Miss.”

  She leaned closer to the window, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone near the horse.

  Odd, too, that whoever was riding King’s Knight had not cared to draw attention to himself, but tied the horse here, instead of the front gate. The question was, how long had the horse been there? A few minutes, or since before she and Wally had arrived?

  “The rider musta rode here through the back lanes from Rookswood property, Miss.”

  Yes, perhaps through the back woods, which was a longer route. Was someone just out for a pleasant afternoon ride? She was fooling herself. Then why hide the horse?

  Maybe someone was already inside the cottage when she arrived with Wally a short while ago. But the front door had been locked. Perhaps the back door by the kitchen? There would be no difficulty getting a second key, since the owners were friends of the Chantrys. If everything was innocent, then why the cautious tread of footsteps? There was no reason for anyone from Rookswood to keep their presence secret.

  “Shh, the footsteps have stopped.”

  “Yes—Look, Miss! There!”

  She saw the stirring of bushes from below where the horse was tied. Evy strained, seeing only the back of the figure that emerged. The stealthy movements sent a tingle along Evy’s skin. The nightmare of last October was still too fresh upon her mind not to react to the creaks and events around her. She must see who the person was. Her gaze riveted upon the figure, presumably a man, wearing a hat that concealed his hair and, although a warm day, some sort of riding jacket. As though sensing her unwavering gaze, the figure’s head turned, and the side of his face momentarily came into view.

  Evy stepped quickly away from the window, drawing Wally with her.

  Lord Anthony Brewster. When she carefully inched forward again to look below, she saw Lord Brewster leading King’s Knight away from the trees and bushes toward the back of the cottage, where she assumed he would ride through the woods to Rookswood.

  But why?

  “Did you recognize him, Miss? Seemed a bit familiar to me.”

  Evy turned away without speaking. She must be careful before giving Wally suspicions about Lord Brewster.

  What had Anthony Brewster been doing here, and why had he gone to such care to keep from being seen? The questions nagging at her only increased. If those were his footsteps they’d heard, why hadn’t he spoken when she came in? He would have heard her and Wally enter the cottage through the front door and climb up the stairs. They hadn’t tried to keep quiet. Maybe Lord Brewster had been searching for something too.

  The implications were disappointing, unpleasantly so. Yet she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. His motives might be honorable. She liked the gentleman. He’d been kind to her. She pushed troubling suspicions from her mind and focused her attention once more on looking through Uncle Edmund’s desk.

  “Rather strange, isn’t it, Miss? What do you think it all means?”

  “I’m not at all sure. Perhaps it would be best if you went below and kept an eye out. If the Hooper twins decide to show up, better send them back home. I don’t think it’s wise to have them wandering around. Check the back kitchen door, too. Since the front door was locked when we came in, he may have come in that way. See if you notice anything unusual out back, but stay close to the cottage.”

  “Yes, Miss, just as I was thinking. But you don’t think that fellow was up to any ill, do you? Not someone from Rookswood, Miss?”

  She heard the incredulity in his voice.

  “Yes, it does sound incredible, doesn’t it?” Her voice was toneless.

  Wally looked at her a moment, bewilderment on his young face, then she looked away and heard the sound of his footsteps clattering down the stairs.

  Evy went to the parson’s desk and began a quick search to locate the secret drawer, praying it hadn’t been a childhood fancy. She fussed for about fifteen minutes, pushing and shoving here and there, opening drawers and feeling behind them for knobs and levers, yet finding nothing. It proved a daunting task, especially as she became emotionally absorbed in old letters and sermon notes from the vicar’s younger years. All in all, she had discovered nothing that would give even the slightest indication either of the contents of that envelope or of any secret drawer.

  Frustrated, she paused long enough to open the attic window, letting in the summer breeze and the singing of birds. In this environment it appeared, even to her, that the recent events of her life might merely be illusory. Her crutches, however, propped against the wall, countered that possibility. One thing she was certain she could not have imagined was the sinister figure rushing at her from the attic door.

  She turned away from the little window to resume her search. Lord, if there really is a secret drawer…if I didn’t just imagine it as a child…please help me. The desk is small enough. Surely locating it can’t be that difficult.

  She sat staring at the desk, rubbing away the crease between her brows. Her gaze fell on the smooth strips of wood below the rim of the desktop. The strips looked like parts of the structure, but what if one of them could slide out?

  Evy pulled on them, but nothing moved. Could there be a release somewhere? She began pulling out the drawers again and feeling inside for anything unusual. Within the top right drawer, her fingers reached up and brushed against a small lever connected beneath the desktop. Was this it? She pulled it toward her and heard something click. One of the strips had snapped out about an inch, startling her. It had to be! The hidden drawer! As she pulled it farther out, she saw a long envelope lying in the thin drawer.

  With glee she stared at the yellowed envelope. Thank you, Lord. She snatched it from its compartment and compared it to the wrinkled envelope Beth Hooper had found.

  Her hopes crashed. The writing was not from Henry Chantry. It was just Uncle Edmund’s handwriting. She fingered the sealed envelope—perhaps several pages inside.r />
  Had Uncle Edmund intended to deliberately mislead someone? Perhaps what she now held was what the intruder had been searching for. Had the intruder only found a decoy back in October? Had the thief believed he had found the real letter when he hadn’t? Her hopes revived. Uncle Edmund with his gentle ways and spectacles always slipping down his nose may have been more shrewd that anyone had suspected.

  She was beginning to open the sealed flap when she heard the sound of the front gate clicking shut, followed by footsteps up the walkway. Bold footsteps! Quickly she stuffed the sealed envelope down her bodice and arranged the front of her dress. Drawing in a quick breath, she hobbled to the window and peered below.

  Heyden van Buren. He must have decided to leave his hotel in London and join her here. He would be pleased to learn Lady Elosia also wanted her in Capetown. Pleased, too, that Evy had made up her mind to go. Maybe she ought to tell him everything. But no, she wasn’t that trusting yet. Until the whole truth was known, everyone was suspect.

  At least he was making no effort to be elusive. She’d certainly had enough of stealthy footsteps and creaking wood for one day. She walked to the attic door and prepared herself for the visit, waiting for Wally to open the front door and let him in.

  Evy was still standing there a moment later when she heard Heyden below.

  “Hullo, up there, Evy?” he called from below the attic steps.

  Where was Wally?

  “Up here, Heyden!”

  She caught her breath. What! Challenging voices—a thud, followed by a scuffle, then the cracking sound of something breaking—furniture?

  Wally! With heart pounding she moved through the door to the small landing and looked down into the pantry. Her breath sucked in. Wally was nowhere in view. It was Rogan! And Heyden, in a savage fight.