Yes, if she played this wisely, she might see the pharaonic burial sites without having to marry for it. After all, Duncan would not want to marry her either. She could go see him, mention somewhere in passing his father had sent her to see if they were a match, but that was of course preposterous and she could go back home to tell the viscount and his wife that unfortunately there hadn’t been…enough of a connection to warrant a marriage. But that Duncan did intend to look for a wife in earnest as soon as he was back in town.
They’d have to accept that.
The viscount took her prolonged silence for consideration and continued in a rush, ‘We’re well aware of your position, Alkmene. You are not just a very well-bred, well-positioned young lady, but you are also intellectual. Your father has written to me several times that you will never marry a husband who is not as intelligent as you are, or if you did, you’d forever loathe him for it.’
Hmm, at least her father had understood that well. She was touched that he had taken the trouble to think about her ideas of the ideal man and actually cared that she would not marry someone she could not respect.
The viscount said, ‘I can assure you Duncan is very astute and has knowledge of those fields of science you find particularly fascinating.’
Alkmene nodded.
The viscount said, ‘He, if any, can satisfy your needs for intellectual discourse about a variety of topics. We believe that if you meet again, on site, can connect over his work and interests, there will certainly be a spark that can even convince Duncan to change his mind about not marrying. He’ll find a companion like you irresistible.’
It was very flattering to be considered an equal match for a man who was no doubt very smart and experienced in the ways of the world, who had travelled to all of those exciting places her father had refused to take her.
She said, ‘Have you asked my father if…’
‘My dear, this plan is his entirely! He wrote to me from India explaining it all. I agreed at once and so did my wife. I am here now to tell you that if you would like to try, you can leave as soon as you are finished packing for the journey.’
Alkmene said in a demure tone, ‘If my father wishes it, I have to consider it seriously.’
Inwardly she was grinning from ear to ear. At last Father understood that she needed to see places. Perhaps trying to pair her off in the same effort was a bit in bad taste, but she was confident Duncan would never fall for her, so she could safely go. That the trip did not yield the engagement both families were pushing for would only be known afterwards and she for one did not mind seeing her father sulk about it. Duncan would have to deal with his family’s disappointment in his own way.
‘I certainly would not want to disappoint my father as he has taken the time off from his quest in India to write to you and you have come out here especially to invite me.’ She smiled. ‘I can’t guarantee that there will be any connection between us. I’m sure we will have a lot to talk about, but you can’t force feelings. I do assure you, however, I’ll speak with Duncan about his prospects.’
The viscount nodded. ‘Handle it the way you see fit. You’re sensible enough. But we just don’t want to see Duncan married on a whim to someone who is only after his money.’
Alkmene nodded. ‘I’ll do anything in my power to prevent that. I’ll pack my things and be ready to leave in a day or two. Depending on how much I’ll have to take and what other precautions might be necessary?’
‘Precautions?’ the viscount asked with a puzzled expression.
‘Well, of course I would have to bring protection against the sunshine and perhaps against disease? Are there no mosquitoes there with a lethal sting? Or other exotic creatures?’ Most ladies would faint at the idea of snakes and scorpions, but Alkmene considered them natural hazards that common sense should deal with. No doubt Duncan would have some tips for her to avoid trouble.
The viscount shook his head. ‘Not as far as I know. You won’t need much more than you do here in London. Packing shouldn’t take long.’ He emptied his coffee cup and rose. ‘I do appreciate you seeing me right now and agreeing to my plan.’
He consulted his pocket watch. ‘As you don’t need to do much packing, I’ll send my driver Kramer for you in the morning. Around ten. It is only fair he should take you there so you need not hire a car or travel by train. I’m not even sure any train goes as far as that little hamlet.’
Alkmene rose as well, her eyes narrowing. ‘Little hamlet? Train?’
The viscount was already at the door. He turned with his hand resting on the knob. ‘Cornwall, my dear. Duncan is excavating a medieval village in Cornwall.’
Chapter Two
Alkmene leaned back in the padding of the viscount’s car, the latest Buick, fresh from America.
The driver, in full livery, kept his eyes on the road ahead. It was too bad he ignored her completely because Alkmene had the impression from the few words he had exchanged with Brookes that he was German and she had always wanted to know more about the Black Forest.
Sort of a sinister place it seemed to be.
Nothing like Cornwall.
Of course Alkmene should have shouted no way, the moment the word Cornwall had been said. But after she had affirmed she was eager to do her father’s bidding, as the old dear had written all the way from India, she couldn’t say no.
Gritting her teeth, she had closed the front door behind the broad back of the viscount who had so easily lured her into his trap. She should have realized her father would never ever let her go anywhere exciting. He had only written to an old friend and confidant to make a stupid plan to get his daughter to marry the other’s son, thereby solving their mutual problems in a single stroke.
The only good thing about the debacle was that Duncan would never ever want to marry her and whether they met in Cornwall or the Himalayas, she’d not come back engaged.
Still, she would have rather visited the Himalayas.
Alkmene pursed her lips in self-depreciation. It was just like her to want to sail the Nile and end up in a meadow staring into a hole full of pottery shards. The only good thing about it was that Jake Dubois didn’t know. By the time he’d come back from Plymouth she’d be in Blackcastle, and he’d have no idea.
She had put his notes on the serial poisoner in a sealed envelope, for Brookes to hand back to Jake if he came to see her. She had instructed the butler to tell Mr Dubois that she had left town on an urgent errand for a friend of her father’s and would not be back for some time.
She had not told Brookes in so many words that Mr Dubois was not to know where she had gone to, but the staff’s loyalty was beyond question, and Jake had already alienated Brookes by his impolite behaviour on an earlier occasion. The butler would never tell him a thing, so she was perfectly safe from Jake’s scorn over her journey.
Still, it was too bad Jake was not here beside her, so they could discuss the poison case. It had left so many questions in her mind. Investigating murder with him was almost more exciting than seeing the pyramids.
It would certainly have been more exciting than seeing Duncan, who would just insult her again.
Alkmene raised a hand to check on her hair. Duncan had often teased her when she was a girl about her unruly hair and ungainly walk. His sister Delphine had been considered a little beauty even at eight, destined to court the interest of princes and dukes, and compared to her, Alkmene had always felt second-rate.
On her way now to face a man she had no intention of pleasing, she caught herself wanting him to admire her anyway, if only to make up for all the scorn he had unleashed on her in the past. Even so it would be easier if he still loathed her, for if he suddenly saw something in her and started courting her in earnest, their families would push them to no end to go on with it.
Why had she gotten herself entangled in this mess?
To distract herself Alkmene leaned forward and asked the driver, ‘Is it very far still?’
‘But you must have made this journey before. Has the family never gone to see Duncan on site?’
‘I drove him out here in the spring when he began his work.’ The driver kept his eyes on the road ahead, speaking in the monotone words of someone reciting a lesson. ‘I asked him if he didn’t need a car while he was here, but he said he wanted to walk more, to improve his stamina.’
‘But the land is so wide,’ Alkmene observed, looking out of the side window at the patchwork blanket of meadows and cornfields, separated by lines of trees. ‘Walking is fine, but I don’t see that every distance can be crossed by walking.’
‘I said so too. But he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t take one servant from his father’s household with him.’
Alkmene heard the undertone in the words and understood the implication at once.
Determined not to look as if she was pouncing on this interesting tidbit, she kept her eyes on the land that was soaking up the sunshine. She said casually, ‘He took the job here to get away from his family?’
The driver was silent.
Alkmene was certain she had been too blunt and should have drawn him out by more subtle means. She just didn’t seem to have that gift.
Then the driver said, ‘Not to get away from anybody, but to be with someone, rather.’
Alkmene froze. Suddenly an alarm bell was ringing in the back of her mind. ‘And his family knew this?’
The driver nodded. ‘They suspect.’
Aw, no.
Alkmene sank back in the padding. She had easily believed her father had written to his old friend from India to discuss his only daughter who really did need a man, if only because the acquaintances were talking and it was never nice to be the object of gossip in town.
But now she saw a bigger truth. Her father’s letter had been a reply to an urgent cry for help sent by that old friend. The viscount had confided in Father that his son, his hope for the future, had fallen in love with an unsuitable woman, someone he was courting by using his excavation work as an excuse. Perhaps the lady lived in these remote parts, but it was more likely she had taken up residence here for the summer to be able to meet with Duncan away from prying eyes in London.
Duncan believed his family knew nothing of this, but they had been on to him from the start and had devised their own plan. Alkmene had to be sent over to win him from the other woman. Alkmene was strong-willed; she would know how to handle him.
Oh, she could just see her father’s hand, writing down the words. She was ashamed of it right as she sat here, fiery blood rising into her cheeks. Not just that Father had written it and his friend had believed it, but that she herself had risen so readily to the bait. She had just wanted to travel; she had not cared for Duncan at all, whether he was intellectual or not, a master of those fields she took an avid interest in. She had believed she could outsmart them all by going first, then moulding Duncan to be at least a little open to finding a suitable wife, and she could return home with fabulous experiences and nothing to feel bad about towards the viscount and his wife.
But at her ready agreement the viscount had thought she really wanted to snare Duncan and that finding opposition on the way would only make her desire stronger. Her desire to secure her childhood friend and to outwit another woman who had no right to him.
It was a clever plan on the viscount’s part, but it hinged completely on the assumption that she did want Duncan and she did not. Her appearance on the scene would be extremely painful, not only for Duncan and his secret love, but for her as well, because she would appear to be hunting a man who did not care for her, who indeed was pursuing another.
It might look quite desperate of her to follow Duncan to Cornwall where he had retreated to ‘work’.
Alkmene resisted the urge to clap her hands to her face and groan out loud. Her first, hot-headed inclination was to order the driver to turn around and take her back to London where she could tell the viscount to his face what she thought of him and his clever little plans.
But he was a dear friend of her father’s and she had no intention of humiliating him. She had to grit her teeth and make the best of this embarrassing situation. It was after all – in part – of her own making. If she had not been so eager to make a trip, she would have declined. Her own motives had pushed her to accept, and now she had to face the consequences.
A sign flashed past, reading ‘Blackcastle’. ‘Is that the village where I will be staying?’ she asked the driver, hoping she’d sound normal and not like she was crushed by his revelation. It had been a shock, but for a very different reason than the driver might assume.
‘Yes. It was named after an old castle nearby. There is just one tower left of it. The excavation site is a few miles to the south. You can see the tower from the site.’
‘How interesting.’ Taking a few breaths, Alkmene felt calmer. Her heart rate returned to normal, and she relaxed her clenched hands.
She just had to press on now, meet Duncan and find out all about his secret love. Perhaps if he was sincere and the young woman was suitable enough, she might even put in a good word for him, convincing his family that his choice was not so bad?
Her heart skipped a beat again. Who was she fooling here? Now that the viscount and his wife believed they could have her for a daughter-in-law, no other woman would do, let alone someone who had for some reason not been eligible to begin with. Her present involvement made it that much harder for the young lovers to ever wed, not easier.
How Duncan would hate her as soon as he realized what she was here for…
Meanwhile the driver steered the car ably through a small village. Stone houses on either side of the road with gardens in front of them, fruit-bearing trees beside them, climbing roses on trellises…
In front of a low-roofed building marked ‘livery stable’ a girl was brushing a fine dark horse, not even bothering to look at the Buick.
Alkmene was surprised that an unknown car, especially such a fine imported model, didn’t draw a response from the locals. One could argue that perhaps girls were not interested in cars, but a few more yards down the road two old men sat on a bench discussing something and they didn’t turn their weathered faces to the sound of the car engine either, but kept talking, one gesturing wildly with one hand holding a pipe. Their conversation seemed to engage them so that they were completely oblivious to their surroundings.
Alkmene turned her head to look at them through the rear window. Perhaps some local event had shaken the natives. She wondered what that all-important occurrence could be.
As they left the houses behind, the road rose to the top of a hill. Directly behind it lay flat grassy land, with bushes here and there. Birds rose from them, flashing around too quickly to make out what they were. In the distance a tall round tower stood outlined against the blue skies. It was much larger and plumper than a church tower. It had to be the remainder of the old Black Castle, after which the village took its name.
The sun beating down from the cloudless sky above outlined everything in stark bright lines as if drawn by an exquisite artist.
Alkmene breathed and tasted the freedom she had often wished for in the past. With a smile she sat up straighter and looked to her left where she could just discern an area that had been fenced off. Rough wooden fences were used, also wicker ones, and even string, running from one wooden pole inserted into the earth to another. She assumed that was the excavation site. There also was a simple wooden construction that was probably a tool shed or something.
The driver slowed down and turned the car left into a dirt track that led straight to the excavation site. It was full of potholes that shook the car and reverberated in Alkmene’s back and neck.
But she barely noticed, staring intently ahead. The wall of the tool shed that was directly opposite her now had been painted white, but the coat of paint wasn’t even. Some pa
rts lay deeper.
Like there had been carving in the wall that the paint had been intended to cover up.
Letters. G-e-t…
O-u…
Get out?
It sounded much like a threat.
‘There they are,’ the driver said, and Alkmene followed his nod. A group of people had gathered to their right. Workers in overalls with leather kneecaps, a man in a sharp suit… Had they gathered because some exciting find had been made? She would be lucky to arrive at some high point in the excavation’s proceedings. Duncan would be pleased and not suspicious to see her, and she could immediately join in the group sensation, without being stared at for being both a woman and a non-specialist in this field.
The driver braked. Alkmene did not wait for him to get out and open her door for her, but opened it herself and climbed out. In preparation of the conditions on site she had put on a tweed skirt under a sturdy jacket and some decent shoes that would do for walking, climbing and the like.
The wind coming across the hilly land grabbed at her hair as she marched up to the excited group. The well-dressed man in the suit turned to her with a frown as if he was not sure what she was doing there.
Past him she spotted two uniformed policemen, each holding an arm of…
‘Duncan!’ Alkmene cried.
Duncan Woolsbury had not changed much since she had last seen him. He had always been tall for his age and sturdily built, with broad shoulders. He had a real barrel chest now and his bare arms were covered with muscle cords. His reddish hair shone in the sunshine like fire. He pulled himself free from the policemen’s hold, exclaiming, ‘I will not flee.’
Apparently his short words made an impression for they did not take hold of him again.
Duncan stepped forward to Alkmene and said, ‘This is not a very good time for a visit, I’m afraid.’ He scanned her from top to bottom. ‘You’ve come on behalf of my father? To talk some sense into me?’
Alkmene felt a fiery flush come up. She hadn’t expected Duncan to be quite so forthright. In the presence of others at that! ‘Your father did mention to me you were here now and doing interesting work.’
Deadly Treasures Page 2