The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

by Abigail Wilson

  I spun around and raised my candle into the all-encompassing gloom of the empty hall. At first I saw nothing, but achingly slowly, a round shadow emerged against the far wall.

  My hand shook, and I nearly dropped the pewter candleholder as a scream lodged in my throat and burned like fire to emerge. Yet it was only an insidious shadow, growing and shrinking as I moved the light. I forced myself motionless. Now was not the time to revert to the frightened girl from Ceylon whom I loathed with a passion. There was no one at Loxby Manor who might attack me.

  Then I heard it, and my chest heaved with relief.

  A soft, glorious meow.

  Carefully I lowered the solitary flame to illuminate the carpet at my feet. The little white cat I’d met on my first night at Loxby had found her way inside once again. Carefully I set the candle on the floor and rubbed the ache from my chest, the pretty little creature with ice-blue eyes watching my every move.

  I extended my hand. “Here kitty.”

  The cat remained deathly still. She was as scared as I was.

  I inched a bit closer, but even the slightest movement incited panic and she jerked away. I sat back on my feet unmoving, simply regarding her. I daresay the poor little thing had not been met with kindness in this house, certainly not by Seline or her mother, and I understood her fear all too well. I would have to let her be to come to me on her own terms.

  I stood and made my way back to my bedchamber door, peeking behind me every few steps. She watched my movements with her paw raised to bolt until I mimicked the soft meow I’d heard her make before. She tilted her head to the side. I repeated the sound, and just like that, she took a hesitant step forward. One more time, and to my infinite surprise, she trotted right up to my feet.

  It was almost as if we understood one another. At least I hoped so. Everyone needed to feel safe.

  I was cautious to touch her for fear I’d scare her off again, so I nudged the door wide and made my way to the center of the room before kneeling on the rug. One more heartfelt meow and the fluffy white bundle leapt straight into my waiting arms. It seemed Seline’s unwanted cat just might be my newest friend.

  Her silky fur was as soft as I remembered and her movements as dainty. I carried her to the seat by the window and let her relax into my lap. “I don’t believe you have a name, and that will never do if we’re to be friends.”

  She stretched, then licked her paw. She had a sweetness to her face, an innocence to be protected.

  I simply held her for a long moment, relishing the feel of her warm body. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the affection of another being, even a feline one. Then I leaned down near her silky ear. “You know, when I had to move to Ceylon, I missed my home in Britain terribly. There was one awful week when I wasn’t certain I could go on. I found myself at the house of a friend of my mother’s, and the lady showed me the snowdrops she’d planted in her garden.

  “It was a little thing, but somehow she knew I needed that reminder of home. I decided right then and there that somehow I would find a way back to Britain, which is why I came here. What do you think, Snowdrop? Do you like your name? I think it suits you quite nicely. You can help me remember why I’m here.”

  Snowdrop wriggled inward as I ran my fingers along her soft back, and the tension in my muscles eased.

  We sat for some time just so, enjoying each other’s company, the blessed silence of companionship filling the space between us. At length I rested my head against the side of the bow window only to sit forward once again.

  I rubbed my eyes to be certain I’d seen what I thought I had.

  A light . . . in the valley?

  I took a sharp glance down at Snowdrop as if she might hold the answer I sought. “What on earth?”

  Shining like a beacon beneath the crescent moon, amid the stony remains of Kinwich Abbey, was a light. Not just any light—the same one I’d seen the night Seline had disappeared.

  My heart ticked to life, all kinds of suppositions racing through my mind. Who could be out there in the gloom . . . again? Avery? Tony? Hugh? Or someone else entirely? Like Seline?

  I set Snowdrop on the floor, and she skittered beneath my bed like a wild animal. Her frantic flight left me biting cold. I inched my gaze to the door as a sinking feeling spread through my chest. My sixteen-year-old self never would have questioned a romp through the woods at night, particularly if it meant that I might glean some answers. So why did my legs resist now? I was back in Britain, after all, in the countryside where I’d always felt free.

  I closed my eyes. Pretend . . . First, I had to believe I was still the person I had been before. Everything else would come later—the confidence, the joy.

  By hook or by crook as they always said. I only needed time.

  I wandered to the wardrobe and retrieved my pelisse, determined to keep my dark thoughts at bay. Perhaps I could make my way into the garden to see if I could catch a glimpse of who might be returning home. Surely I could do that alone.

  I took a deep breath as I fastened the buttons on my coat, then forced my legs to carry me through my bedchamber door.

  Why did the corridor seem darker than before, the shadows deeper? The solitary candle in my hand proved a poor companion as the layers of darkness shifted around me, yet I was determined to take a step forward, even if it was a small one.

  At the landing I was forced to peer into the murky floor below, and my heart deserted me. On the crest of a cold wave, the hairs on my arms prickled to attention. All too easily I could imagine the twists and turns of Loxby concealing a presence, that someone or something lurked just out of sight . . . waiting for me to descend the stairs.

  I shook my head, my hand finding the balustrade. I was being ridiculous as usual. There was nothing down below.

  Carefully I descended the stairs on a tingling surge of terror that seemed to dissipate at first, then charged once again to the surface with the far-off click of a door latch.

  My eyes snapped open wide, and I froze at the bottom step. “Is someone there?”

  Only silence replied—the buzzing emptiness my mind filled readily enough with the suggestion of ghostlike whispers.

  The circle of light I’d relied on up until now felt like a hindrance as the depths of the room beyond the reach of the candle’s glow faded to black. Instinctively, I blew out the flame to keep from being seen, which plunged me into the sickly gray light of the moon.

  Several agonizing seconds passed while I waited for my eyes to adjust. Then I crept across the entryway to the hall that led to the back of the house.

  The cool air felt like ice in my throat, and I considered returning to my room more than once, but eventually I made it to the side door, the one that led to the rose garden, and pushed through it.

  The night had come alive since Piers and I stood on the terrace. The surge of the wind, the hush of leaves, the intermittent rustling of small nocturnal animals. The scent of woodsmoke lingered from the day’s fires. I wrapped my arms close about my middle and stepped into the clearing, hoping I might get a better view of the abbey.

  Then I heard it—a faint sniffle.

  I spun to find Mrs. Cavanagh seated on a curved bench beneath the large, central oak tree. My hand flew to my chest. “I-I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”

  She had a handkerchief gripped tightly in her hand and dabbed it generously at her eyes. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “You didn’t . . . wake me.”

  She hadn’t changed her gown from the dinner party, and I wondered how on earth she’d found her way to the garden after she journeyed to her room. I took a seat at her side. “You should be in bed. It has been a long day.”

  She shook her head, but it was more of a slow quiver. “I can’t sleep, not anymore. ’Pon my word, I’m not certain I shall ever do so again.”

  “Should I fetch Mr. Baker to summon the doctor? Perhaps he can give you something that might help.”

  “Thank you, my dear, but he h
as already done so. The only thing that can take this ache from my heart will be for my daughter to return home.”

  The clang of an iron gate jerked our attention to the far side of the garden as a dark figure passed into the moonlight.

  Avery.

  I had been right. The garden was the perfect place to wait for whoever had journeyed to the abbey. Now more than ever I wanted answers, but we were not alone. I assisted Mrs. Cavanagh to her feet, and Avery sidestepped through a rather awkward pause as he took in the two of us waiting for him beneath the oak tree.

  He spoke naturally enough. “Mother, Charity, what brings the two of you out here so late?”

  “We could ask you the same question.” I wished I’d hid the interrogation from my voice a bit better as Avery pulled slightly away.

  He spoke to his mother. “You shouldn’t be in this damp cold. Come, let me take the both of you inside.”

  As Mrs. Cavanagh moved, Avery cast a piercing look at me, quelling the questions forming in my mind, and I was relegated to walk behind them as they traversed the short garden path back to the door. It wasn’t until Avery held the door wide for me to pass through that I saw what was tucked into the crook of his arm.

  It was none other than a black cloak.

  * * *

  I woke early the following morning, determined to catch Piers before he left on horseback for Kinwich Abbey. I had been eager to search the ruins since the night Seline disappeared, but after seeing that light again last night, then Avery with the cloak in his arms in the garden, there was no way Piers was going on a hunt for answers without me.

  I called for my maid and dressed quickly in my favorite dark green riding habit. A hasty bite of a muffin and I hightailed from the house, straight to the wide, double doors of Loxby stables where I couldn’t help but stop short. I knew Mr. Cavanagh was well-known as a horse man in the district. I’d heard that even after his accident he still kept a fine selection of cattle, as Piers and Avery had both been brought up with the same horse-mad affliction. But nothing could have prepared me for this new stable complex.

  Piers had expanded the large central room, which now held rows of cribs, each wooden post decorated with the Cavanagh crest. A groom whistled as he waltzed from the harness room, a bridle in his hands. “Good morning. Can I saddle a horse for you, miss?”

  “Why yes, I’m to ride with Mr. Cavanagh this morning.”

  “Ah.” He smiled. “I’m just getting Gypsy ready now.”

  My heart gave a stir. Gypsy? I’d not seen him in years. I took a few steps forward to get a better look at the stallion around the crib wall. He was as magnificent as he’d been five years prior. His dark brown eyes found mine, and I ran my hand down his nose. “Good to see you, too, boy.”

  I wondered if Piers’s horse remembered me as well as I did him. Piers and Gypsy had always made a striking display when they crossed the fields. I used to watch them from my bedchamber window at Flitworth Manor every morning.

  I took in a long, sweet breath of hay.

  “So you plan to steal my horse now? I suppose he always did like you better than me.”

  Piers stood in the doorway, a riding crop tucked beneath his arm. He cast a shrewd glance at Gypsy. “Traitor.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s far too spirited for me, but I have come to join you on your quest this morning.”

  Piers stood still as he considered my announcement, his eyes wandering to the nearby groom. I was a bit surprised when he returned a rather pleasant, “I would like that.”

  “In all this grandeur have you a horse I may ride?”

  He laughed. “She’s still here, you know.”

  My mouth fell open and I whirled to face him.

  “That’s right. Jewel’s here.”

  My hand sought my neck. “You mean you actually kept her all this time?”

  He gave a slight shrug, then lifted his eyes to mine. “She was far too pretty to get rid of.”

  I looked around. “Where is she?”

  He extended his finger. “Fourth crib on the right.”

  My legs were moving before he’d finished his sentence. Papa had paid Mr. Cavanagh to stable Jewel for me, but when we departed for Ceylon, he had left instructions to have Piers’s father sell her off. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  How I wished I’d brought a treat for her. The sweet gray mare I’d come to love seemed uninterested at first as I walked to the front of her crib. That is, until I spoke her name.

  “Jewel.”

  Her eyes immediately perked up and she tugged against her lead, nudging her long nose up against me. My heart melted, and I ran my hand along her silky neck.

  Piers hooked his arm around the edge of the post. “I thought you might come back someday and want her.”

  I couldn’t even form a response.

  He motioned behind him. “Let’s allow the grooms to do their business. The horses will be ready soon enough.” Then he offered his arm.

  I smiled as I took it. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see her.”

  He touched my hand. “You’re welcome.”

  He led me to a shaded area beneath the stable archway and clock where he pulled away. “I am glad of the company this morning, but I have to ask, what brings you to the stables so early?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I saw a light at Kinwich Abbey again last night. The very same one Seline and I viewed from my window the day she left the house. So I went to the garden, and who should arrive home but a few minutes later? Avery.”

  Piers flexed his fingers. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

  “Which is why I’d like to take a look around the abbey. Just the two of us. Something is going on at that place. Something Avery’s not telling us.”

  After a moment he nodded. “Agreed.”

  “And there’s more.” I reached into the pocket of my habit and pulled out the note Hugh had given me the previous night. “Hugh pushed this into my hand a few minutes before the party broke up. He asked me to give it to Seline. I didn’t tell your mother because I wanted to speak with you first about what it said.”

  Piers took the letter into his hand and opened it in the bright morning light.

  My darling,

  Where were you yesterday? I waited all morning, and you know how I yearn for you. If you are in need of help, do not be afraid. It’s past time the Society did something for me, regardless of what I have planned. Everything is set for next month. We cannot possibly fail.

  Your faithful servant,

  Hugh

  I waited for Piers to read the whole of it. “What could it mean?”

  He refolded the note. “Seline has always kept Hugh dangling on a string. I fear this is just more of her playacting.”

  “But he said ‘the Society,’ not just ‘society.’ And what could be set for next month?”

  “There’s no way to be certain.”

  I returned his steady glare. “Unless we confront Avery.”

  Piers stared down at the letter again as if he needed more explanation, but he wouldn’t find any hidden in the text.

  I laid my hand on his arm, and his gaze met mine. “I know neither of us wants to paint your brother in a poor light, but last night . . . Piers, he had a cloak. One that looked similar to the one Seline borrowed from me the night she vanished.”

  Chapter 10

  The remains of Kinwich Abbey could be seen for miles around East Whitloe.

  Built in the middle of an open meadow near the River Sternway in the thirteenth century, the small monastery included a gatehouse, an infirmary, and a bell tower. And as I’d learned from old paintings when I was a child, at one time, vast gardens and pools. For centuries the hallowed cluster of buildings was managed by a group of monks until it was dismantled officially by the Dissolution of the Monasteries around the year 1540.

  Today little was left of the grand structures but a section of the gatehouse and one wall of the m
ain building with two rows of crumbling cloisters, which at one time would have surrounded the central courtyard. Piers reined his horse to a halt a few feet from the gatehouse, and I directed Jewel beside him.

  Creepers lined the ruins of the ancient walls as tall green grass carpeted every inch of the surrounding grounds. Pockets of dew clung to the dampened stones, glistening in the rays of the morning sun. In the open the gentle wind was almost constant, bathing the ground in a reverent hush. Leaves scattered across what was left of the gatehouse’s stone flooring and danced in and out of the ancient corners as if an invisible hand enjoyed swirling them just so.

  Caught up in the humble aura of the place, we both seemed hesitant to dismount, but Piers eventually swung from his horse and turned to assist me. His arms rose automatically to help me down. He was a gentleman, after all. But when his eyes met mine, there was an uncomfortable split second of indecision in his gaze.

  He shook the moment off as quickly as it had come, slipping his hands around my waist, but the hesitation lingered in my heart. Though we had agreed to a working friendship—for Seline—I could no longer deny the unresolved emotions we still carried between us. Time had done nothing but intensify an attraction I couldn’t begin to understand. What was it about Piers Cavanagh that arrested my good sense?

  Piers motioned ahead. “After you.”

  The cloisters lay beyond the remains of the gatehouse, and I walked straight for the ruins, trying in vain not to read into the strain in his voice.

  The sun gleamed through the open remains of a small circular window at the pitch of the main building, and I was forced to shield my eyes. “I don’t suppose the ghosts come out in the daylight?”

  Piers was but a step behind me. “I wouldn’t know. My father did a pretty good job of scaring us all when we were children. I’ve only ever come here a handful of times.”

  I grimaced. “I remember. It was about a monk who was murdered, right?”