The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

by Abigail Wilson

  I hesitated at first, then gave a vague nod, still a bit intrigued as to what brought him rushing this way. I could keep my emotions at bay. “Any word of where Avery got off to?”

  He shook his head. “Baker says he left quite early. Apparently a letter came for him last night from Hugh Daunt.”

  “Hmm, so you don’t think he’s avoiding us?”

  Piers ushered me onto the narrow gravel path with a flick of his wrist. “Not exactly, yet at the same time I wonder what was so urgent to take him from home at such a time. He could have easily found another way of putting us off.”

  The sun hung low in the sky, warming our backs while painting long shadows over the eastern slope. A slight breeze ran its wide fingers across the grass and tinted the air with the sweet scent of wisteria. I glanced over at Piers. Though I’d dreaded his presence at the house, it also seemed so natural that he should be here beside me, that we should be deciding between us what was best to be done about Seline.

  “What do you think Hugh, Tony, and Lord Kendal were doing meeting Avery so late at the abbey? Seems a remarkably odd choice to me.”

  “Very odd, no doubt. Of course Avery has been friends with those first two since he was in leading strings, but Lord Kendal—that name was certainly a surprise.”

  A bird swooped low over the path, and I watched it glide for a moment on a stray gust of wind, the very embodiment of strength and peace.

  “I’ve been doing a bit of thinking about the night Seline left. As I said before, there was a light out my window, which had to have been the very thing that set her off.” I paused to catch his gaze. “From what she said before she left my room, she knew who would be at Kinwich Abbey, in effect, who had brought the light. I can only assume it was Lord Kendal she was after. She had just finished telling me she would only marry a gentleman with a title.”

  “My mother’s words, but I see Seline adopted them as her own.” He kicked a stone with the toe of his boot.

  Piers paused at the woods’ edge, placing his hand against a tree. “I am beginning to fear you’re in the right of it though. After your questions in the drawing room, I decided to do a bit of questioning of my own. First thing this morning, I spoke with my man in the stables. Berkeley said he’d heard from Mr. Lacy that Miles was called to Mr. Cavanagh’s room the morning of Seline’s disappearance and was planning to leave early the next morning. He, too, thought the elopement extremely unlikely. He didn’t know Miles well but said he was never one to take responsibility for anything. I wasn’t able to speak with Mr. Lacy directly, as he accompanied Avery to town, but I intend to do so.”

  I was forced to focus on my steps as the path took a dip. “Then if Seline didn’t go to Gretna Green with Miles Lacy, where on earth is she?”

  He countered my question with a cunning look. “If Avery’s description of what happened at the abbey is to be believed, only one person can possibly know for certain what happened to Seline once the group dispersed, and I doubt Lord Kendal would be keen on a visit from me.” He shook his head. “Avery is the only one who can journey to Whitecaster Hall and demand answers from Kendal.”

  I rested for a moment in the steady rush of the river, dredging up some nerves before turning once again to Piers. “I may be out of line in asking, but what happened between you and Honora Gervey? When you wrote to me in Ceylon, I assumed the two of you would be married shortly. That is, until Seline’s letter finally came and said otherwise.”

  He hesitated a moment, the awkward truth of a well-placed pause settling between us, and I got the strongest feeling he didn’t mean to answer at all. But then he turned and leaned against the tree. “The arrangement between our parents ended rather quickly. She wouldn’t have me, not after I disappointed Lord Kendal at the duel.” He shrugged. “Would you?”

  He’d certainly posed the question as some sort of joke, but warmth filled my cheeks nonetheless. “I’m hardly the person to answer such a question. I’ve done quite a bit of growing up over the past five years, and it may surprise you to learn I have no intention of marrying at all.”

  I thought I saw his eyes widen as he looked down. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m perfectly serious. I have my own plans—to pursue a governess position.”

  Without warning, he touched my arm, but I pulled away, feigning a distraction as I continued on the path.

  My head throbbed, but I was glad I’d said it. Now we could stop all the self-conscious toying with each other and get on with the uncomplicated friendship I’d asked for. “I know my desire to be a governess sounds a bit premature in most people’s minds, and it’s not as if I don’t have options. My parents would have me consider my cousin Samuel.”

  He coughed out a laugh. “Not Samuel. He wouldn’t do at all. You can set your cap far higher than him.” He studied me for a moment. “What about Tony Shaw? He’s a nice enough fellow.”

  “I’m never short of matchmakers, am I? First my parents, then Seline, now you. What a pleasure you all are.”

  “I realize any attachment of yours is most certainly none of my business.” His shoulders slumped. “Forgive me. Tony just came to mind when you were talking. Would you not consider him though?”

  “I thank you, but no.”

  He sighed. “And then there’s Hugh. Remember when he and Seline spent that day at the river? I was forced to say I’d been with them the entire time to save Seline’s reputation.”

  “She did enjoy her little escapades.”

  He nodded, his breath tinted by a laugh. “We all enjoyed our little escapades, didn’t we?”

  My gaze rose to his. I knew he was referring to the moment we’d shared in the alcove in his house.

  He took a deep breath, his eyes so terribly unnerving. “You’ve changed.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. The words cut straight to my heart because I knew them to be true. How many times had I been forced to endure that same sentiment? “You look different, Charity.” “Where is that beautiful smile of yours?” “You used to be more fun.” “It’s only a dance, Charity. Why must you act so awkward—take the man’s hand!”

  My ears rang with all the people who knew better than I how I should feel and how I should act. Granted, most didn’t know what had happened, but my mother did.

  I realized belatedly I missed the start of what Piers had said.

  “. . . don’t you think?”

  I gave him a wan smile. “I’m sorry, Piers, I didn’t hear you.” I hated to blame my preoccupation on my hearing difficulties, but I had no intention of telling him what I’d been thinking.

  His glance was a compassionate one as he tugged me to the side. Piers Cavanagh was the one person who never teased me about missing part of a conversation, yet for some reason, I couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “You know I never mind repeating.” He pointed at the horizon. “I only said we should probably turn back, don’t you think? The hour is advanced.”

  “Yes. It is getting rather late.”

  He offered me his arm. “And Avery knows full well when it’s nearing dinnertime. Mark my words, he’ll be home soon enough.”

  I gave a little laugh, more of a diversion than anything else. All I could think of was the soft texture of Piers’s superfine jacket and the underlying warmth of his arm, the ease of friendship and the fear of the unknown. Was it possible? Could Piers and I move beyond our past? Could I forgive him for deserting me in Ceylon?

  * * *

  Piers caught sight of Avery seconds after we rounded the front of the house. “There’s his horse. Perfect timing.”

  Avery had no choice but to meet us on the lawn. He acted almost amused, but his eyes told me otherwise. “You won’t believe it, but Lord Kendal has returned to his country seat.”

  Piers crossed his arms. “Of course I believe it. He probably means to introduce his family to his fiancée.”

  Avery held up his first finger, the others clenched
into a fist. “Quite right, but the curricle race is still on.”

  Piers shot a glance at me. “What curricle race?”

  Avery angled his chin, his mouth practically falling open. “You haven’t heard? I wondered why you didn’t enter a bet. You best do so before it’s too late. The race is scheduled for the close of the month.”

  “And who exactly would I be betting on?”

  Avery leaned in. “Secret is Kendal’s hiding some prime bit of horseflesh at Whitecaster Hall. I’d suggest going that way with any money you can swing. The odds are too good to pass up.”

  I stepped forward. “So the race is to be at Whitecaster? Might that provide the perfect opportunity to speak with Lord Kendal?”

  Avery went motionless. “In regard to what?”

  “If he knows anything further about Seline. You told us yesterday he was the last to speak with her.”

  His face relaxed. “Oh, I doubt he knows where she and Miles have run off to. Presently I need to change for dinner.” His focus swung like a pendulum between Piers and me, and then a sly smile creased his lips. “What have the two of you been about today?”

  Piers shoved his brother’s arm. “A simple walk, nothing more. Get on with you. We won’t hold supper.” He thrust the front door wide for Avery, but as soon as Avery passed, Piers extended his hand to stop me. “Allow me to apologize for Avery. You mustn’t let him get under your skin. He likes to tease me is all. I assure you, I’ve no intention of burdening any lady with my disgrace, particularly you.”

  I couldn’t help but touch my face as I took a step back. Was that what his letter was getting at? His responsibilities? “I, uh, never do take Avery seriously, at any rate.”

  “Good.” He motioned me through the door, but I hesitated once inside.

  “Piers?”

  An idea had been growing all day, and Avery’s artful evasion only solidified the notion. “If Avery continues to fob us off and Lord Kendal has left the area, should we not reach out to Tony Shaw and Hugh Daunt? It has been years since I’ve seen them, and it would give us the perfect excuse to broach more delicate topics. I seem to remember Tony had a rather loose tongue.”

  “You mean like a dinner party here at Loxby?”

  “Something like that. We all cry friends, after all. Setting up an evening of entertainment would be a natural thing to do—a bit of a welcome party for me, perhaps.”

  “Except Seline is not in residence.”

  “No one is aware of that at present. We shall have to speak to your mother of course, but I think we should be able to come up with a plausible excuse for Seline’s absence for one night. An unfortunate cold perhaps that keeps her abovestairs.”

  “And how do you propose to get our questions answered?”

  I searched the ceiling for answers. “Carefully, I suppose.”

  “Extremely carefully, and there are a few things you are forgetting.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “First off, I’ve never been one for parties. Surely you remember that I avoid them like the plague.”

  “Oh fustian. You danced with me at the Dowding’s ball.”

  “Once.”

  I gave him a hard smile. “Then Avery can play host if you are too put out to do so.”

  He added quickly, “There’s also that nasty little issue that I am decidedly de trop.”

  I knew Piers merely meant to weasel his way out of attending our little soiree, and I had no intention of letting him do so. He’d had five years outside of Liverpool to be alone. If I was willing to overcome my own reservations about a dinner party to help Seline, then he could do so as well.

  “I don’t think Mr. Shaw or Mr. Daunt will keep their obvious distaste for you from ruining an evening with me.”

  His mouth fell open, and then he laughed. “I suppose they wouldn’t. Shall we set the date, Captain Halliwell?”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and we both turned to see Mrs. Cavanagh bustling down the steps. She grasped the banister, gasping for air. “Thank goodness I’ve found you at last.”

  I thought she meant Piers, so I was surprised when her gaze fell to me. She couldn’t seem to speak without the aid of her hands. “Mr. Cavanagh is asking to see you.”

  “Me?”

  “Don’t act so shocked. He simply remembers your family and would like to send his best wishes to them through you.” Her lips quivered as she pressed them together. “I’m afraid he won’t be dissuaded. I promise you it will only be a quick chat, and I shall not leave your side. Now, come on, gel.”

  Chapter 7

  Mrs. Cavanagh thrust open the door to her husband’s bedchamber and flounced into the room on a rustling wave of muslin and lace.

  Left alone in the hall with nothing but my teeming doubts, the first waves of nausea seeped into my body. Why had Mrs. Cavanagh been so adamant to keep me away and then turn around and force me to visit her husband? It didn’t make any sense.

  Mrs. Cavanagh trounced back to the door and motioned for me to enter with a sharp flick of the wrist.

  I took a deep breath. I had few options really. As Mrs. Cavanagh’s guest with nowhere else to go, I had no choice but to do as she bid. I pushed my shoulders back and trudged forward.

  Almost at once the dull, grassy scent of age assaulted my senses. Mr. Cavanagh’s private chamber seemed almost as if it stood frozen in time, an ornate reminder of his once grand position as head of the household. Neglect, however, had been allowed to creep in. Dust littered the pictures and nooks in the dressers as spiders were left to decorate the corners. I suppose Mrs. Cavanagh saw little need to address such issues with her husband blind, but the thought did not settle well.

  I inched across the remains of a worn rug as a nurse with red-rimmed eyes shot me a cold stare. The bony woman did nothing but shuffle by me on her way from the room, leaving me to the bitter silence of the unknown.

  An enormous gray fireplace flanked the whole of one wall and maintained the room in what I could only call oppressive heat. Mrs. Cavanagh did not address the figure in the great poster bed—not at first—as she shoved a chair near the head of the bed. She signaled with her chin for me to come closer, the solitary candle at the bedside highlighting a scowl on her face.

  My mouth felt dry as I fought the questions rolling through my mind. What would Mr. Cavanagh look like now . . . after the accident? My feet grew heavy, then stopped as I clutched my skirt in my fingers. Was I afraid of him?

  My muscles stiffened as I settled into the seat Mrs. Cavanagh had provided. The draped canopy kept Mr. Cavanagh’s motionless body in shadows until Mrs. Cavanagh drew back the thin cloth and repositioned the candle.

  Ever so slowly, I leaned forward and stifled a gasp. My body felt suddenly sluggish as I grappled to recognize the skeletal gentleman lying still before me.

  His white hair was slicked back away from his forehead. His thick eyebrows curved at an angle above closed eyes. A jagged scar cut from one side of his cheek, across the orbit of his eyes, then plunged its red fingers into his wet hairline. I began to wonder if he might not be alive until his head lolled to the side.

  Mrs. Cavanagh adjusted his bedsheets closer to his chin. “Miss Halliwell has come to see you, my dear, but she hasn’t long before supper.”

  At the mention of my name, his eyes flicked open and a smile curved his lips. His movements were decidedly unsteady, jerky even, as he rotated his head, but his voice was strong. “Thank you for coming. It’s been some time, has it not?”

  His eyelids were thin now, his cloudy gray eyes so like an owl’s in the muted firelight. He moved to say more but a cough stole his voice. Mrs. Cavanagh passed me a cup of water, and I couldn’t stop the telltale shake of my hand as I lifted it across the bed. “Yes, it has. I have some water if you require it.”

  “Please.” He rubbed his chin. “If the two of you would but help me up onto the pillows.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh’s hands were like birds in the firelight, flying this way then that. She bustled to the far s
ide of the bed, and I finally understood what she wanted me to do. Together we resituated him so he could manage the water.

  He took a long drink before turning to Mrs. Cavanagh. “Leave us. I want to talk with Miss Halliwell alone.”

  Terror crossed Mrs. Cavanagh’s face. I sought her wild gaze with my own, but she merely threw her hands up as if the request was a matter of course. She was forced to clear her throat, however, and add, “I’ll be just down the hall dressing for supper if you need me, Miss Halliwell.”

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Cavanagh waited for the sound of the door before extending his hand in my direction. “It is good to hear your voice. I remember how you and your brother used to run through these halls with my own children.”

  Carefully I took his wiry fingers into mine, all too conscious of the feel of his bones moving beneath his skin. Was he even eating anything?

  “Yes. It was a happy time in my life.”

  “How is Arthur these days? Is he settled in America?”

  I’d forgotten how close my brother and Mr. Cavanagh had become the summer before we left for Ceylon. They were always talking politics and chemistry. Arthur and he were very much alike back then. “I’m still waiting for a return letter from him, but the one I received in Ceylon before I left indicated he was doing very well indeed. My parents are quite proud of him.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. He was always a man to make something of himself. Far more so than some of my children, I’m afraid, which unfortunately brings me to why I asked you in here in the first place. I need to talk with you about Seline.”

  My muscles twitched, and for a moment I thought I saw spots before my eyes. “Oh?”

  He patted my hand. “Do not take my questions amiss, although I do want the truth. I know the two of you were always close, and I desperately need insight from someone outside of this house. Mrs. Cavanagh and my boys tend to keep me at arm’s length.” He rubbed his forehead, his eyes fixed to the underside of the poster bed. “Did Seline talk to you before she left?”