Her impish eyes made him strongly desire to give everyone in the household something to suspect, but he refused to let her cozen him out of the sullens so easily. “We will go down together,” he said stiffly.
“Ah, well, I don’t suppose anyone would have suspected, anyway,” she repined. “There is a very high moral tone in this house. When James Heythrop comes down with a woman, Lady Eastwick assures me that he stays at Fairlight, though how he could I am at a loss to know. The place is entirely in holland covers. I doubt he comes down very often."
His lordship deigned only to murmur in reply, nothing intelligible, but Theodosia proceeded, “Yes, you are quite right. He is rather a court-card, isn’t he? Lady Eastwick is astonished that you should come here with him, I can tell.”
Steyne gave her another blighting look intended to depress her impertinence.
“Oh, I see. You should have told me sooner. If I had known it was all the fashion to travel about with your worst enemy, I would have passed the information on to Lord Heythrop. He’s immensely interested in the goings-on of the ton, though you wouldn’t necessarily know it to observe him. Here in the country we still tend to cling to our friends and avoid our enemies. I can’t think why.”
“It’s not your concern why I am here with James,” he told her coldly. “I feel no necessity to explain my actions to anyone.”
“Yes, I remember you feel that way, and yet you expect others to explain theirs to you.”
Impossible to tell if she was speaking of their nighttime talks or the distant past. They had reached the foot of the stairs and he pulled a letter which he had franked from his pocket and set it on the salver. Fyfield daily collected any items deposited there and had them taken into the village by his most reliable footman for posting. It was not on Theodosia’s account that Steyne turned it upside down, but because he preferred that James not note it, since it was to Ruth. In the letter he had explained (there, he sometimes did) that he had been delayed and that there would be sufficient grounds at Fairlight to deny the match if his man in London was unable to come up with further proof of James’ profligacy and debts. He paused to consider whether it would be worthwhile to include any mention of James’ nocturnal activities. It would mean breaking the seal, the letter having been written the previous morning and not set out since it was Sunday. His hesitation cost him only a few moments but he found that Theodosia was halfway to the Breakfast Parlor before he decided not to bother.
“I thought we had agreed to enter together.” His long strides quickly brought him abreast of her, and he frowned. “Did you think I had changed my mind?”
“No,” she laughed, “but I’m famished.” And she waited as he held the door for her to enter.
Chapter Twelve
After breakfast Lord Steyne left with Edward to go fishing and Theodosia followed Lady Eastwick to the Summer Parlor for a moment’s private conversation. Sunlight sparkled on the crystal chandelier and the gilt chairs and sofa with their flowery beauvais tapestry coverings. The painted roundels on the ceiling were by Angelica Kauffmann, and were echoed in the geometric design of the carpet. Lady Eastwick urged the governess to a seat by the windows.
“Possibly I should have told Lord Heythrop,” Theodosia began, “but I thought it wisest to approach you first. You are aware, I presume, that James Heythrop has returned the first earl’s poem?”
“Yes. I won’t comment on how he came to take it,” Lady Eastwick said dryly.
“The poem purports to give a clue as to where the treasure is hidden. Obscure, of course, but the only clue which seems to be available to your family.”
“The children must be excited to have a chance to study it.”
“They are.” Theodosia sighed. “It is difficult for me to . . . Well, let me just say that last night before going to bed I saw Mr. Heythrop returning to the house with a shovel, which he hid in the flower border before entering.”
Startled eyes met Theodosia’s. “You think he’d been out looking for the treasure?”
“It does seem possible.”
“More than possible,” Lady Eastwick murmured, frowning. “And not beyond him to abscond with it if he finds it. Lord, how I wish Eastwick were here! Edward will only make a hash of it: He doesn’t like James in the least. Did anyone else see him return?”
“Lord Steyne.” Though she realized this must sound suspicious, Theodosia did not allow her gaze to drop.
For a moment Lady Eastwick studied her, and then nodded, saying half to herself, “Steyne is a gentleman. I needn’t fear for your virtue with him, but I do hope you are keeping your door locked with James in the house.”
Theodosia grinned. “I am, but he hasn’t paid me the least attention. Not that I'm complaining!” She was immediately serious. “I was wondering if perhaps it would be better not to confront Mr. Heythrop with his midnight excursion. If he found something, he might intend to present it to you. And if he didn’t . . .”
". . . Fyfield could search his room before he left,” Lady Eastwick finished for her. “How very tactful of you, my dear. Yes, I like the idea very well, and I’m sure I can convince Edward. He will have to be told.”
“Of course.” Now Theodosia did look away from her employer. “Lord Steyne seems to know a bit about the treasure—perhaps from the children’s chatter. Seeing Mr. Heythrop with the shovel he immediately knew I assumed he might be looking for it. I didn’t feel I was in any position to discuss your family secrets, but I am afraid his curiosity is aroused.”
“Doubtless he’ll have the whole from Edward if he’s persistent. Though Edward has made a great fuss about keeping all knowledge of it within the family, my son is hardly likely to resist Steyne’s charm. I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him, simply because I would feel more comfortable knowing that he was keeping an eye out for us.”
“Even when he came here with Mr. Heythrop?”
Lady Eastwick pursed her lips in thought. “I admit there is a mystery in that, but I think I could trust his integrity as I would Eastwick's. You must remember that I knew him slightly years ago, and his sister was one of my dearest friends. Poor love, to have her husband taken from her so young!”
As though the idea were in the air, the two women were apparently struck by it simultaneously. Lady Eastwick’s face registered horror. “Dear God, not Ruth and James! Steyne could not possibly condone such a match!”
“But he couldn’t really prevent it,” Theodosia pointed out. “His sister is a mature woman."
“I cannot believe Ruth would ever consider a man of James’ ilk. Why, Morrison was a paragon! She adored him! And James is . . . Well, never mind, but it simply would not do.”
Theodosia felt a constriction in her chest but forced herself to say calmly enough, “Perhaps Lord Steyne is pressing for the match. If his sister is devoted to him . . .”
“I will not believe it,” Lady Eastwick declared emphatically. "There must be some other explanation. You may be sure Steyne knows precisely what James is, and he would have no reason to desire such a match.”
The two ladies sat contemplating the situation for several minutes, but there seemed no salutary solution to the mystery, only discouraging possibilities. Eventually Lady Eastwick shrugged and stated, “It is not something we should concern ourselves with, I dare say. If Lord Steyne wished us to know, he would tell us. And James has said nothing, either. You may be sure he would be crowing if he were to marry Ruth. I understand she was very well provided for, and there were no children. How empty her life must seem without husband or children. And I bemoan Eastwick’s temporary absence. What a silly woman I am!”
“No one has ever heard you so much as breathe a syllable of discontent,” Theodosia laughed as she rose. “I should go to the children. They are intent on doing some treasure hunting of their own today.”
“There is one thing . . . Why do you suppose James suddenly conceived the notion he would be able to find the treasure now? Surely he had looked for it with the rest of
them when he was a boy.”
“I wondered about that, too. The poem says it is kept beneath scenes of valor and strife in a worthy location; that the place is both safe and secure, and that one should be guided by faith and the land grants, not forgetting the value of lore.”
“How helpful,” the countess murmured.
“Yes, isn’t it? But you must remember that the poem was written when the first earl lived at Seagrave. Undoubtedly the treasure was moved to Charton Court, and I would think it would have been near impossible for the third earl to have duplicated a site such as had been used at Seagrave. On the other hand, it is general enough to apply to all sorts of spots: graveyards, old fortress sites, ancient battlegrounds, mythical holy places and so forth. Mr. Heythrop took the poem with him in the spring, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Something might have spurred his interest at that time.”
Lady Eastwick could only picture the lonely little grave of her daughter, and shuddered.
To distract her, Theodosia continued, “It might have had to do with some discovery of an old burial site written up in the local, or even the London, papers. Do you recall anything of the sort?”
“Not offhand. It is not the sort of article I am likely to read.”
“If it was of that nature, Mr. Oldbury might be aware of it,” Theodosia said thoughtfully. “Surely he would collect anything he found, and his friends might send him items that appeared in London, knowing he would be interested. I shall ask him tomorrow when we go. In the meantime, I hope you won’t mind if I allow the children to do a little digging about the estate. I don’t think they can restrain their energies much longer."
“A few muddy articles of clothing are a small price to pay for their renewed spirits, dear Miss Tremere. Have I told you how pleased I am with how they’ve come out of their gloom? I hope you know how much I appreciate your endeavors.”
“I’ve enjoyed it.”
"This evening after they’re in bed I’ll show you the artifact my sister sent as the ‘treasure.’ It’s a handsome Roman belt buckle found somewhere in Somerset. She thought that would lend it more authenticity. Will it do?”
Theodosia rose as Lady Eastwick did. “Admirably. We can weave a wonderful tale around it, ma’am. Now all I shall have to do is discover an appropriate spot to hide it, and a new set of rules to point to its location. It can be an exercise in deductive reasoning to parallel the real family treasure. I shan’t try to fool them that it’s a true ‘find.’ They’re far too clever for that, anyhow, I fear. On the other hand, I shan’t help them find it, either! And again Mr. Oldbury might be able to assist by instructing me where such an item would logically be found. A lesson in archeology for the children, as it were.”
The children were poring over a map, and arguing the most logical place for the treasure to be buried when Theodosia arrived. Each had some idea to offer but there was no consensus.
“I want to start digging.” John glared at his brother and sisters. “It doesn’t matter much where. Can I, Miss Tremere?”
The governess nodded her understanding. “Yes. For today we’ll simply choose the most accessible spot which conforms to the terms of the poem. Would you hand me the map, Thomas? Very well, we shall, for the time being, assume the church as faith and the barrow above the park as the ‘burial ground,’ if that is agreeable. The estate itself can serve as the boundary, though the first earl was granted a great deal of land in the area. We may find that there is only a small area of the barrow from which the church is visible. It will give us a starting point, at least.”
By the time the children had changed into their oldest clothes and several shovels had been rounded up (none of them finding it at all strange that one was missing from the stables), the better part of the morning had escaped. Undaunted, the large party set off on foot, having decided that horses would just be a nuisance, and not wanting to have one of the grooms with them when they made the big discovery. John led the way, awkwardly shouldering one of the shovels, but delighted to finally be at the real crux of their hunt— the dig. They had only climbed the lower slopes when they met Edward and Lord Steyne returning from their morning’s fishing.
It took no second sight for Theodosia to tell that Steyne had learned the whole. The very blandness of his countenance, coupled with the amused intentness with which he regarded her, were sure signs. Edward wore the air of a man who had made important decisions in spite of the odds against which he had struggled. They had caught no fish.
Amy tugged at Steyne’s sleeve. “Won’t you come with us? We’re going . . . digging on the hill.”
Ordinarily a governess might have shuddered at the child’s presumption, and hastily stepped in to assure his lordship that Amy didn’t understand that she was imposing. Theodosia said nothing, returning Steyne’s startled look with a serene smile.
When Edward appeared about to protest, Steyne looked down at Amy and said, “You don’t think perhaps I would be in the way?”
“Certainly not!” she cried indignantly. “You would be of the greatest assistance! Thomas and John are bound to tire of digging very quickly. I dare say you would be able to keep on for hours!”
Now Edward did protest, and most of his siblings with him, but Theodosia had found it necessary to retrieve a pad of foolscap she had dropped. Steyne could see her shoulders shaking with laughter and, to the surprise of all of them, he gave a hoot of mirth himself as he gently touched the tip of Amy’s nose. “Not quite hours, urchin, but for a while at least. What do you say, Edward? Shall we join them?”
The younger man gaped at him, unable to picture the Corinthian hard at work with a shovel, his sleeves rolled up and his shoulder muscles bulging under the effort of shifting earth at little Amy’s request. But Steyne wasn’t quizzing him; he meant precisely what he said, and eventually Edward croaked, “If you wish, sir. They’ll be looking for the treasure.”
His brothers and sisters stared at him, and he stiffened. “It's all right. I told him about it for a very sufficient reason. You will have to trust my judgment.”
Theodosia intervened to set them on their way again, discussing as they went the various categories into which the search would fall. On the foolscap pad she was jotting down ideas as they occurred to her, separating them on the basis of whether they would have marched with the first earl’s poem, a later earl’s situation at Charton Court, or neither. A second sheet listed the various meanings which might attach to such terms as “Faith,” "grant lands,” “lore” and being hidden beneath scenes of valor and strife. She glanced up to find the viscount studying her.
“Did you have a suggestion, Lord Steyne?”
“I would have to see the poem first. Edward has only told me about it.” He had shouldered John’s shovel, assuring the boy that it was only right that he have some of the burden if he was to share in the fun.
“There is a copy in the schoolroom, but I’ve replaced the original in the archive room. You might wish to see my notes on the Heythrop ancestry, and the time when they moved to Charton Court. The earldom was created in 1486, and the treasure was misplaced between the seventh and eighth earls in 1643, but it may have been in the family for some time before the first earl.”
“With Edward’s permission,” he assured her, all righteousness, “I would be fascinated to see anything relating to it. Not that I would be likely to discover anything you had missed, ma’am. I have the greatest respect for your . . . competence.”
“There is always the possibility that a new view on the documents would be beneficial. The Heythrops are so familiar with them that they may be overlooking something very simple that an outsider would notice—a gentleman, that is.” Her eyes danced in the noonday sunlight. “Something to which a mere female would attach no significance.”
“I never said . . .!” Steyne seemed to recall abruptly that there were any number of interested onlookers to this conversation and finished lamely, “that it would be easy to find suc
h a long-missing treasure.”
“It could be anywhere,” Edward grunted, swinging Thomas’ shovel from one shoulder to the other. “I don’t see why you want to go digging up here.”
His younger brothers were pleased to inform him of their purpose, and soon both Steyne and Edward found themselves digging in the one area of the mound of earth from which the village church could be seen. Their greatest find was a piece of a stoneware mug which certainly did not date from the fifteenth century.
Eleanor studied it carefully before giving her judgment that it was possibly fifty years old. “Do you think it was left here on a previous search?”
Her query was directed to Theodosia, who admitted it was likely. As they trudged wearily back to the Court, Steyne chatted amiably with the girls while Edward kept close to the governess’ side and made sure that they brought up the rear of the party.
“I only told Lord Steyne about the family secret because of what he . . . and you . . . saw last night,” he told her, his eyes vaguely accusing. “He did not enlighten me as to how it came that you both saw my uncle so late at night.”
Though he waited for some comment from her, Theodosia merely regarded him with interest.
“Anyhow, I decided it was proper for him to know. He won’t tell anyone else, and he might even have some suggestions. I can’t think why you thought it likely the treasure would be buried in the barrow.”
“Not likely,” Theodosia explained, “but a start had to be made somewhere. John especially was eager to get down to the digging.”
“He didn’t do much of it,” Edward grumbled, brushing a smear of dirt from his coat. “Did you tell Mother about last night?”
“Oh, yes.”
He seemed surprised. “And what did she say?”
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