by Valerie King
“I would agree with you, so I am hoping that our search is more conclusive than my previous one.”
The next hour was spent with each of them perusing the riddles again, as well as the map, and offering all manner of suggestions as to the meaning of the riddles. A very lively, at times witty and at other times quite silly, discussion followed as to the whereabouts of Jack Stub’s treasure.
In the end, little could be made of the possible meanings of the riddles without first beginning to explore the path indicated on the map that began at Devil’s Gate.
At this time, Lady Monceaux provided refreshments for her guests: a platter laden with fruit, another with biscuits and sweetmeats, and as much ale and ratafia as was desired.
When everyone was seated and appearing quite content, Evelina explained how the hunt would be conducted: that once the date and time were arranged, they were free to explore Rotherstone’s property.
“It would be better,” Sir Alfred said, “were we all to meet with Mr. Creed. I for one should like to hear him tell his tale just in case some clue or other might be hidden within. Would you ask Rotherstone if he would allow us all to consult with his bailiff?”
“Yes, of course,” Evelina said. “I think it an excellent notion.” Privately, she doubted very much that he would agree to it. She had seen for herself just how angry he became at the mention of his neighbors.
His wife, however, lifted a tentative finger and said, “I have a suggestion.”
Sir Alfred immediately stared her down. She seemed to shrink into herself and would not have said anything further, but Evelina wished to hear what she had to say.
Ignoring Sir Alfred, she said, “I value everyone’s opinion and hope we may all contribute. What were your thoughts, Lady Monceaux?”
She avoided meeting her husband’s gaze and said, “You mentioned earlier that you thought his lordship seemed to be more amenable to rejoining our society. Perhaps if we extended an invitation to him, say to the assemblies on Saturday, he might find we are not as disagreeable as he seems to think we are. In such an environment surely he would have a greater likelihood of embracing our treasure hunt.”
Sir Alfred barked, “He will never attend the assemblies, not in a hundred years, were he to live so long.”
Evelina regarded the baronet for a long moment. She thought he was uncommonly disposed to think Rotherstone would always be unwilling to embrace the local society. She was more convinced than ever that the breach between the earl and the Maybridge community had occurred primarily between the two men. For that reason, she queried, “I have been in company with Rotherstone several times now, and I have grown to wonder just what it was that set him at odds with our neighborhood. Can anyone enlighten me as to the particulars?”
The entire group fell silent. Mr. Crookhorn and Mr. Fuller turned pale, Sir Alfred’s scowl nearly brought his eyebrows over his eyes and Colonel Carfax turned away to stand by one of the windows. No one said a word.
As Evelina glanced about, she saw that the ladies did not seem to be informed in even the smallest detail. Annabelle Rewell was playing with her reticule, twirling it in ever-enlarging circles, Mary Ambers and Mrs. Huggett both appeared bewildered, Mrs. Rewell stared at a fly on the table at her elbow and Lady Monceaux frowned at her husband.
“Is there no one present,” Evelina queried, “who can tell me the basis for his rejection of society?”
Finally, the colonel spoke. “I believe it was a gentleman’s affair,” he said kindly. “Something having to do with his father. Beyond that . . . ” He said nothing more, his intention clear. She was not permitted to probe further.
“I see,” she murmured.
The colonel continued, though addressing the previous subject, “I would, however, agree with Lady Monceaux that if my cousin is expressing even the smallest interest in taking his place in society, he ought at least be invited to the assemblies. There could be no harm in proffering the invitation.”
Evelina could see that there was a general agreement about the idea, but she could not help wondering just what Rotherstone’s response would be. He had been so varied in his reactions thus far that she honestly could not predict whether he would say yea or nay. “We should definitely ask him,” she said. “However, I feel it absolutely necessary that his houseguest, Sir Edgar Graffham, be invited as well.”
At that, Lady Monceaux pressed a hand to her lips and glanced at Miss Ambers. After a moment she said, “I believe I forgot all about Sir Edgar in offering my suggestion. Naturally, we cannot invite one without the other. However, given present circumstances, I now see that an invitation to the inmates of Blacklands is quite out of the question.”
Evelina could not keep from glancing at Mary Ambers as well. The young woman’s gaze was pinned to the black, gold and green carpet at her feet. Her cheeks were quite pink. Mrs. Huggett as well appeared deeply distressed.
“I am sorry to hear that there is an objection to Sir Edgar,” Evelina said. “I can only presume then that he has committed some infraction that has placed him beyond the pale. We shall consider the subject closed.”
“No, pray do not,” Miss Ambers said abruptly.
All eyes turned upon her, and more than one expression appeared quite shocked.
Miss Ambers swallowed hard. “Sir Edgar has committed no gross impropriety that must exclude him from society. Of that I am certain.”
“This from you?” Colonel Carfax asked, his eyes searching. “But are you certain, Miss Ambers? It is my understanding—indeed, I believe everyone’s understanding—that he used you quite ill.”
“He . . . he never importuned me. The circumstances . . . that is, it is very difficult to explain. He was in his altitudes at the time and not himself, a state of being I believe not a gentlemen present has failed to experience at one time or another.”
Evelina wished she knew to what Miss Ambers was referring. Even Annabelle Rewell seemed apprised of the event, and she was the youngest member of their party present, not being three and twenty.
“But Miss Ambers,” Miss Rewell queried, “did he not force you to remain with him all night at his rooms in Half Moon Street?”
“Annabelle,” her father said.
Being the youngest lady present, and featherheaded, it did not occur to Miss Rewell that to ask such a thing was quite improper. Lady Monceaux offered her a reproving scowl. Mr. Rewell shook his head severely at his daughter, stunning her to silence. “I beg pardon,” she murmured, her eyes wide.
Miss Ambers, however, appeared to take a different view of Miss Rewell’s inappropriate question. She straightened her shoulders and gave all the appearance of one gathering her courage. She began to speak of the event, addressing Miss Rewell. “I am grateful you have brought the subject forward. Indeed I am, and unless there is an objection, I should like to address your concerns.”
Evelina glanced round the dark chamber, but no one present seemed disposed to stop her. Far from it, since all eyes were fixed on Miss Ambers and more than one visage filled with curiosity.
“I chose not to leave him,” she said, lifting her chin. More than one gasp filled the air. She continued, “He was violently ill, you see, and I remember being with my brother once in such a situation. I have been convinced from that time even until now that Sir Edgar would have perished had I not stayed with him. I believe it was not just that he had imbibed too much champagne at Lady Jersey’s soiree, but that something he had eaten had not agreed with him as well. He had a violent fever.”
“The scoundrel should have had the decency to marry you,” Stephen Rewell said.
“Hear, Hear,” his father agreed.
“He offered, of course,” she stated, seeming confused. The entire chamber fell silent, and Miss Ambers glanced from face to face. “Surely everyone knew as much? Tell me I am not mistaken in that,” she said, the color draining from her face.
“No, I think not,” Lady Monceaux whispered, a kerchief clutched to her bosom.
“But . . . but I told Mama most particularly how it was, and that he offered but I could not accept of his proposals. She must have misinformed all of our acquaintance, and I was too reticent to speak of it. I must say I never quite understood until this very moment why he received the cut direct from so many. All, except . . . Rotherstone.”
Silence pervaded the chamber. Evelina was put forcibly in mind of Sir Edgar’s reference to his friend having acted with great kindness on his behalf.
“Lord Rotherstone did this?" Lady Monceaux queried. “I mean, of course he did, for they were always great friends.” She then looked at her husband with a serious frown in her eyes. “Did you know of this, Alfred? Of the extent to Rotherstone’s kindness?”
“Of course not. I thought, as everyone else did, that Rotherstone enjoyed snubbing all of society whenever he had but the smallest opportunity. In this case, it meant giving shelter to a libertine.”
Lady Monceaux appeared not to believe her husband, but she said nothing further.
Evelina, suspecting that Sir Edgar was not indifferent to Miss Ambers, braved asking another question. “I can see that it is painful for you to speak of it,” Evelina began softly, “but may I inquire why you refused him?”
Mary smiled faintly. “I was not indifferent to him, if that is what you are asking, but I could not bear the thought of being wed to a man so addicted to . . . to such useless ways. Perhaps I was wrong, but no good could have come from our alliance, at least at that time, of that I am convinced.”
Evelina did not know when she had seen a more courageous young woman than Miss Ambers. She found herself grateful that she had broached a subject that affected more than one of the households present. George Fuller in particular stared at the ceiling and tapped his foot at an alarming rate. There were far too many gentlemen among the beau monde given to drinking to excess and to gambling far beyond their means.
“Do you think I was wrong?” she asked.
“Not in the least,” Lady Monceaux stated firmly.
“I quite agree,” Evelina said.
“Does not Sir Edgar have five thousand a year?” Miss Rewell queried.
James Crookhorn nodded. “He does, and a very fine Elizabethan house in Surrey.”
“Well,” Miss Rewell said, staring hard at Mary Ambers. “He could have cast up his accounts for a week, and I should not have refused such a tidy offer.”
Her brother, sitting nearby, leaned over and pinched her very hard on the tender underneath portion of her arm. She yelped and would have pounced on him, but her father stayed her with a sharp, “Enough. The pair of you. Bella, you owe Miss Ambers an apology. She has shown a great deal more character than I have ever seen you exhibit in the course of your life.”
Mr. Rewell glared at his daughter until she finally laid her feathers and addressed Miss Ambers. “I do beg your pardon. I am sure you are very worthy.”
“Yes, she is.” Colonel Carfax said, his laughing gaze fixed on the beautiful Miss Rewell.
“We have certainly strayed from the point,” Sir Alfred said. “If it pleases you, Lady Evelina, I think it an excellent notion that both of the gentlemen at Blacklands be invited to the next assemblies. And if it would not be too much trouble, would you inquire again if we may all be in consultation with Mr. Creed?”
“I shall be happy to do so,” Evelina said. She then glanced about her friends and neighbors and felt her heart grow very warm. This was the first time she had ever been so nearly involved in a community, and she was finding she enjoyed it very much. She felt as though her own efforts were spurring the society forward, giving a unified objective to the group in the form of the treasure hunt and thereby creating opportunities for interesting exchanges. Even Lord Rotherstone was being affected.
She watched as Colonel Carfax began pacing the chamber. She had seen him do so at her own house not a few days past when she had first presented the map to everyone. She thought his conduct curious and said, “Is something distressing you, Colonel?”
He stopped abruptly. “Have I been marching to and fro again?”
“Indeed, you have.”
“Well, I suppose it is because I have had a thought of my own by way of hoping to add some merriment and opportunity to our party.”
“What is on your mind, Carfax?” Sir Alfred called out in his blunt way.
“I am thinking of giving a ball.”
Another gasp arose, mostly from the ladies.
Miss Rewell cried out, “A ball. I should love a ball. It is so boring in Maybridge. Nothing ever happens.”
“Boring?” her brother said. “How can you say so when we are very close to finding Jack Stub’s treasure?”
Annabelle rolled her eyes but refused to say more.
“And lest I be accused of forsaking the proprieties,” Colonel Carfax added, “I would like to know, Lady Monceaux, if you would oblige me in hostessing my ball?”
Evelina saw the expression of gratitude on her face and thought the colonel’s actions showed great kindness.
“I should like nothing more,” Lady Monceaux returned happily, once more ignoring her husband’s frowns.
In the end, it was agreed that the colonel’s ball would take place on Tuesday in one fortnight and that two days hence everyone would assemble at Wildings for the first hunt for the treasure. There was nothing left to do but for Evelina to arrange with Mr. Creed the time of the hunt and to lay her requests and invitations before Lord Rotherstone.
***
Chapter Seven
“The chapel ruins?” Evelina queried uneasily.
She had been awaiting Rotherstone in his drawing room, but when he arrived on the threshold, instead of taking up a seat, he asked if she wished to accompany him on a short walk to the chapel ruins located on his estate. She had meant to settle all her matters of business with him quickly because she feared the longer she was in his company the more likely she was to succumb to one of his wretched flirtations. Apparently, there was to be nothing short or succinct about this visit.
“You have a folly, then?” she asked politely.
“No, not a folly,” he responded. “These ruins are real, several centuries old. Tis a lovely setting, and because the old chapel was built on a hillock, parts of each of the surrounding estates can be viewed from there. I thought you might enjoy the vista.”
Ordinarily, Evelina would have delighted in nothing more, but her previous experience at the grotto told her Rotherstone was not to be entirely trusted in private, sylvan settings. On the other hand, she felt she risked offending him by refusing to go.
“Although,” he mused, glancing out the window and frowning a trifle, “the clouds have gathered rather thickly in the last hour. It could rain.”
Evelina smiled suddenly. She had her answer. Rain would drive them back to the house, and betwixt times she felt there would hardly be sufficient time for him to make any improper advances. She did not think even the most determined gentleman would kiss a lady who was being pelted by a rain shower.
The chapel was situated on a hill north of the great house and must have been six hundred years old but was presently little more than several unrecognizable piles of weathered stones. An ancient sundial was cracked nearly in two and faced the wrong direction to be of any use. A lovely green grass had grown up around the ruins. She found herself grateful Rotherstone had suggested the excursion.
“How lovely,” she said. “And you were very right. The prospect affords an excellent view of the surrounding country. And look how busy your laborers are, like watching bees near a hive.”
Rotherstone’s estate was a bustle of activity below. Several gardeners could be seen pruning shrubs, cutting out dead branches from among a variety of trees and cleaning the flowerbeds of debris. She could also see a number of servants moving back and forth across several windows of the expansive house tending to the various rooms The nearby farms were also full of laborers employed in midsummer tasks, repairing dry stone walls, digging ditc
hes and generally preparing for the forthcoming harvest.
A sudden breeze swept over the vale, carrying a strong hint of rain.
“Oh dear,” she murmured. “We have just lost all our sunshine. I believe you are right. It may rain very soon.” The clouds to the west had now grown quite dark. “But nothing could be prettier, just as you said.”
She let her gaze travel the ridges of the surrounding heavily wooded hills. In an area to the east that must have been near Pashley Court she noticed something on the hillside. “That must be the old windmill.” She gestured in the direction of Watcombe Hill. “I would never have thought it could be seen from here.”
“That would be Sir Alfred’s estate,” he said.
“And which church tower is that, the square one?”
He peered to the east. “The gray tower belongs to the hamlet of Gildstone.”
“Gildstone? I do not recall it.”
“Near Carfax’s estate. There are scarcely more than two or three laborers’ houses there.”
“I see. That would explain my ignorance then.” Her gaze traveled west. “And these hills to the southeast must be near your cousin’s northernmost borderlands.”
“I believe so. Just south is the village of Maybridge. You can see the tower of the church if you try very hard.”
Evelina struggled for a full minute.
He drew close and directed his arm along the sight of her gaze. “Between those two monstrous oaks, just there.”
“I see it,” she said. He lowered his arm and she suddenly became aware of how near he was standing to her. She swallowed hard, recalling how tender their last parting was, when she had kissed him on his cheek. She felt a flush of something very near to affection bloom over her face and warm her heart She wanted to step away from him but felt she would offend him in doing so or, worse, expose how she was feeling by arousing his scrutiny.
A cold, damp wind swept over her and the sensation passed. She breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing to the southwest, she said, “I did not know Wildings was visible from anywhere on your property, but you can see a very large portion of the house from here.” She moved away from him as though wanting to see more, but her real design was much more critical, for she found it unnerving to stand so close to him.