The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

Home > Other > The Vanishing at Loxby Manor > Page 11
The Vanishing at Loxby Manor Page 11

by Abigail Wilson


  I walked over to her. “I imagine it will be something of a shock, but at the same time, we all realize there is nothing you could have done to change what happened that night.”

  “Wasn’t there?” Tears spilled onto her cheeks as she pivoted to face me, her gaze searching mine. “What a dear you are to try to comfort me.” She squeezed my hand. “Of course it will be some time before you could possibly understand the complexities of being a mother.” Her eyes grew cold. “Motherhood is nothing but worry and doubt, waves of unrelenting pain. You can do every little thing within your power for your offspring and end up with ungrateful children.” She whirled back to the glass. “At least I have Avery.”

  And Piers.

  I stood stone-still for several seconds, a wariness filling my chest.

  How could a mother favor one son so clearly over the other? I knew how much Piers loved her. The entire affair was a sad business.

  I opened my mouth to form some sort of response when Mrs. Cavanagh broke the silence with a shriek. “What is that thing doing in here?”

  Snowdrop scampered to the safety of my legs, and I scooped her up. “It’s only Seline’s cat. She’s quite friendly. See?”

  “Don’t come a step closer. I told Baker if that horrid beast ever found its way into this house again, I’d . . .” Her attention shifted to my wide eyes, and then she threw her hands in the air. “Don’t tell me you formed a tender for such a vile creature.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh pranced to the wall, and I had little time to react before she tugged the bell pull—hard. “My maid will see that thing is taken care of once and for all.”

  As if Snowdrop understood the severity of what was happening, she squirmed to get away, but I drew her close to my chest. “Please, don’t hurt her. She’s a darling.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh’s eyes flashed in the firelight. “Ha!” Her shoulders snapped back, her voice razor sharp. “What do you take me for? Hurt her indeed.” She trounced back to the dresser. “’Pon rep, what a presumptuous young lady you have grown into, Miss Halliwell.”

  “I do apologize. That is not what I meant at all.” An empty feeling settled into the pit of my stomach, and I spoke with far less alacrity. “You needn’t bother your maid. I will see the cat removed from the house.”

  She seemed to relax a little, but the civility I’d experienced upon arrival was spent.

  “I suppose that will do.” She glanced about the room as if the darkened corners might provide her the words she sought. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you so. I’m afraid I’m not entirely myself at present.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “After Seline’s utter betrayal, my nerves have been pushed to the limits. There are times I fear for my very sanity.”

  The word betrayal sent the hairs on my arms prickling, and I shifted into her line of sight. “Mrs. Cavanagh, what if Seline didn’t go with Miles Lacy after all? What if it was something more serious?”

  She pursed her lips, the balance of my words weighed in turn according to the lines on her face. “Does it really matter at this point? She’ll be ruined either way.”

  I shook my head, the apathy in her voice echoing in my ears. “Does it really matter?”

  My father once told me that the light of a solitary fire at night could reveal a great deal. I never really knew what he meant, not until that moment. My senses felt heightened, my perception far more focused. I watched Mrs. Cavanagh as she dabbed her dry eyes with the handkerchief she had wrapped around her bloody finger.

  Had I truly ever seen her before? The real her—the very definition of duplicity?

  She said she valued experience yet did everything she could to hide her aging body. She demanded allegiance from her children but cast them off without a thought. The firelight danced across Mrs. Cavanagh’s sallow cheekbones, highlighting the depth to her intricate gaze.

  Was Mrs. Cavanagh mourning the absence of her daughter or merely the destruction of her reputation—the same unforgivable act of disloyalty Piers had inflicted on her so many years ago?

  Mrs. Cavanagh ran her fingers through a ruffle on her gown as she produced one last sniffle.

  There was no way to tell—not until Seline returned.

  * * *

  Snowdrop made the perfect companion that night in my room. In fact, I slept so well I was late making my way to the breakfast room the following morning. I nearly missed Piers completely.

  Thankfully I came upon him at the foot of the grand staircase.

  He was dressed for riding, his pantaloons tucked neatly beneath a rather fetching pair of Hessian boots. The blue tint of his jacket matched his eyes perfectly. I found it difficult not to stare as I descended the final steps into his waiting grin.

  “Good morning.” There was a slight lilt to his voice, and I instantly read into those two simple words. Had something changed between us since our visit to Kinwich Abbey yesterday?

  I offered him a slight smile, not too bold. “Where are you off to this morning?”

  “I sent a note to Hugh yesterday at his estate, informing him I would call today. I had hoped you might want to join me, but”—he tapped his watch—“I had nigh given up on you.”

  “Yes, well, I was up rather late.” I wasn’t certain I should mention the confusing meeting I’d had with his mother. After all, I had little flattering to report and her words would only hurt him. Besides, whether I wanted to admit it or not, as much as our whirlwind romance had ended in disaster, I still cared a great deal for him. Coward or not, I couldn’t help but think of Piers as a friend.

  He offered me his arm, and my fingers tingled. I took a measured breath. Who was I kidding? He was more than a friend—but certainly not a suitor. No one would be allowed that place in my life, not anymore. Such a precarious relationship, particularly with someone like Piers, would only bring heartache, and I’d had quite enough of that.

  I touched his arm. “If your plan is to take the horses, I’ll need to change into my riding habit.”

  I could hear the groan rising from his throat, but he chose to flash me a smile. “You know where I’ll be. Don’t take too long. We haven’t much time.”

  My heart betrayed me, squeezing rather painfully in my chest. I’m not certain those were the exact words he used when we ducked into the alcove on my last day in East Whitloe, but the wonderful moment came rushing to my mind nonetheless. I touched my lips. I’d never forget that day for the rest of my life.

  His voice broke the silence of my memories. “If you plan to woolgather, I have other things I can do this morning.”

  I grasped the banister, turning recklessly at the top of the stairs. “No, you don’t.” And hurried down the corridor.

  * * *

  The Daunts had not lived in East Whitloe for more than two generations and, as a family who came into money rather late, had been treated for years by many in the district as beneath their touch, which unfortunately had included my own family. In fact, despite all the years Hugh and I saw each other as children, I’d never stepped foot inside Rushridge.

  The house itself was not all that large, composed of square brown bricks and multiple white chimneys, but the grounds were superb. I’d heard that his sickly mother, Mrs. Daunt, still employed a fine gardener who had transformed the acreage into something of a prize garden, but nothing could have prepared me for my first sight. The manicured bushes and hedgerows had been cut into geometrical shapes, the green lawns stretching like an endless ocean behind perfectly placed rows of flowers.

  We were met at the door by Hugh and also Priscilla who, once she saw that Avery was not one of the party, affected a merely passable performance of hiding her disappointment.

  I took her arm. “Avery was forced to journey into town for the day. He was sorry to miss our visit.”

  Since we had told Avery nothing of our plans to call at Rushridge, I was fairly certain he would indeed be irritated. I was only hoping my explanation might keep Priscilla from mentioning our visit, but by the look on her pouty face,
I doubted her silence.

  She gave a little laugh. “Don’t be silly. Though I am always pleased to see either of the Cavanagh brothers”—a firm yet inviting glance at Piers—“I most especially wanted to see you today.” She squeezed my arm, and I couldn’t help but take my own quick look at Piers.

  Priscilla showed us into the adjoining drawing room, with the gentlemen lagging behind. The room, which had been papered with a rather attractive pattern of purple flowers, was a squarish affair with high ceilings and thick rugs. I made my way to the long sofa at the back and found the seat quite comfortable.

  Tea was called for at once, and Priscilla took a seat at my side. “I am quite glad of a moment to speak with you alone.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s about Hugh, actually. He’s acting most peculiarly, and I hoped to get your opinion on the subject.” She nibbled at the edge of her lip. “For instance, at supper last night I posed the idea of purchasing a new gown for Lord Kendal’s ball, and he got quite cross with me. He said he wasn’t certain we would go at all. But I know very well he means to do so. Avery mentioned it the other night.”

  I hesitated to get involved. “Perhaps he hasn’t the money to provide you with a new gown just now.”

  “I am not completely ignorant of the state of our affairs, and I’m more than happy to wear an old one.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “It’s how he said it, as if something has changed to prevent us from attending, something he didn’t mean to share with me. Has Avery said anything to you?”

  “Not at all.”

  Hugh and Piers entered, and Priscilla seemed distracted as she went on. “Hugh has always been susceptible to the sullens, particularly whenever Seline is involved. For years now if I mention her name he flies off the handle. I’ve just never understood his fascination with her.”

  All too quickly the men were within earshot, Hugh pausing beside the sofa, his eyes on me. “Piers tells me you admired our gardens on the way in. Would you like to take a turn with me? I would love to show them to you.”

  I straightened in my seat. “Oh, please do. From what I’ve seen thus far, they are quite lovely.”

  As the four of us made our way from the room, a thought took hold. Had Piers noticed Priscilla’s strange behavior and arranged the walk to secure some time alone with her? No one could have missed the sharpness of her voice or the ridiculous way she kept moving her hands. Clearly something was distressing her.

  Or was the walk Hugh’s idea?

  As we rounded the first hedgerow, the purpose became clear. Hugh seemed determined to draw me ahead of the others, so I allowed him to, but I wouldn’t stray too far.

  His voice came sharp and quick. “Did you give Seline the note?”

  Something was buried in that sickly sweet tone of his that I couldn’t quite identify, almost as if he anticipated . . . What exactly?

  My steps turned sluggish. Was it possible that Hugh already knew Seline was not at the house? Had Tony betrayed my confidence? Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so easy with him at the dinner party.

  The cry of a nearby blackbird filled the delicate silence between us. I would have to be wary how I answered. “She was far too ill to read your letter as of yet. I am sure she will soon.”

  He eyed me for a long moment, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, and then a flicker of discipline made over his face. “I’m sorry to hear her illness has progressed. You just never know how serious an ailment can be, can you?” He stooped over and gathered a few daffodils into a bunch. “Tell you what, why don’t you bring her these.” He said it with such calm deference, I began to question my previous confusion.

  I gladly took them from his hands. “I believe I’ve made friends with another one of your gifts—a little white cat.”

  A smile broke through the indifference on his face. “I know what you are thinking. Presenting Seline with a cat was hardly proper on my part, but she and I have always had a different sort of relationship, or shall I say, there is an understanding between us.”

  He didn’t allow me a response, as he shouted behind us, “Piers, this is the spot I was telling you about.”

  We’d come upon a small brook and a perfectly symmetrical ornate bridge. “I plan to build the folly right here.” He turned to me. “Seline is always saying how much she loves this place.”

  I couldn’t help but remember what Mrs. Cavanagh had said—how the Daunts were in the basket. How could Hugh afford such a project?

  Piers must have been thinking the same as he followed with, “And when do you hope to start construction?”

  “Within the month if all goes as well as I hope.”

  A quick glance at me. “Ah.”

  “Seline loves this grove as well as the brook. We’ve spent many a happy time here.”

  Though we were all good friends as children, it seemed Hugh’s plans for Seline ran far deeper than I’d originally understood—he was already making changes to his estate. There had always been something quite private and special between them, which time had managed to grow, not diminish—at least on his part.

  Piers and I were treated to a full tour of the massive gardens, followed by tea and cake, but my mind remained captured by the curious thoughts I had about Hugh and Seline. That is, until we set out on horseback to return to Loxby Manor.

  Trailing behind Gypsy, I watched Piers’s lithe form as he directed his horse out Rushridge’s main gate. Piers had always been a natural at riding, but . . .

  I sat quite still, the subtle tug of Jewel swaying me back and forth in the sidesaddle. Piers had been my first and only love, and he would not be an easy one to forget, not completely. Seline must be the same for Hugh. Though she flitted around like a butterfly from one flower to the next, Hugh’s affection remained. He’d not had time away to gain perspective like I had to see what lay right before his nose. He could dream of building her all the follies in the world, but she would never marry him without a great deal of money or a title.

  I urged Jewel alongside Piers. “What do you make of Hugh’s preposterous notion?”

  “You mean the folly.”

  “It is folly as far as I’m concerned. If what we understand about his finances is true, he’ll drive poor Priscilla into destitution.”

  “Well, if she doesn’t snag Avery first.”

  “Don’t be absurd. Your mother will never allow such a connection. Avery will be forced to look for someone far better situated than Priscilla.”

  He cast me a knowing glance. “You’ve only been here a few days, but I can see plain as day you already know your way around my family.” He shifted his attention back to the road. “However, you are also assuming I will be the one to inherit, not him.”

  “Well, of course you will.”

  He took a deep breath. “The decision is my father’s of course, but Mother has been doing her level best to persuade him otherwise. And can I blame her? After my shocking cowardice and fall from grace, I have no thoughts of marriage. My conscience wouldn’t allow such an arrangement, not when the lady would be forced to share in my disgrace. Which will also mean no children. Upon my death Avery or his offspring will inherit anyway.” He shrugged. “Might as well make the whole thing easier and cut me out.”

  “That is ridiculous.”

  “Is it?”

  “You’re gambling on an uncertain future. You might very well marry after all. You can only assume that every lady values her place in society above all else . . .” I reined Jewel to a halt, distracted suddenly by a glint of light on the ground. “What is that?”

  Piers pulled Gypsy’s reins as well.

  I pointed to the side of the road where a small round object flashed back at us in the sun. A wrinkle formed on Piers’s brow, and he slid from his horse. Kneeling, he picked up the item and turned it first one direction then the next. “It appears to be a brooch of some sort.”

  “Will you bring it to me?”

  He held it up, and I gasped as I took the familiar
jewelry into my hands. “It’s mine.”

  He took an uncomfortable look behind him. “Did you drop it on the way in?”

  Slowly I shook my head. “This brooch was on the black cloak I gave to Seline. The one she borrowed the night she disappeared. I’m certain of it.”

  He seemed lost for words, his wide eyes doing the talking between us before he, too, shook his head. “That means she was here on this very path at some point that night.”

  The muscles in my fingers twitched against the cold metal of the brooch. Seline must have come to Rushridge after her argument with Lord Kendal. She wouldn’t have had time to do so before, and the brooch proved she left the abbey to come this way.

  I looked back at Hugh’s house, the once beautiful gardens transforming into twisting plants and gnarled shadows. Hugh Daunt had said nothing about Seline coming to Rushridge, and he’d acted so strange about the letter.

  The hairs on my arms rose to attention, and I pressed my lips together. Something about Hugh didn’t feel right, particularly after all his sister had revealed. If Hugh was indeed hiding something, anything could have happened to Seline that night.

  Chapter 12

  I’d not encountered Miles’s uncle, Mr. Lacy, since my arrival at Loxby Manor. He’d been promoted to head groom while I was in Ceylon, and the family thought quite highly of him. At least that was my impression. Few other families would have allowed him to retain employment following the scandal with his nephew.

  It never even crossed my mind to seek him out—not until Piers and I came upon him quite by accident the very day we found the brooch.

  We’d handed off our horses to an awaiting groom and departed the stables for the house when we saw Mr. Lacy lurking in the shadow of the clock tower. A small man, subtly wrinkled by years of hard work, we found him in something of a minor battle with a slip of paper. Catching sight of us out of the corner of his eye, he smashed the paper closed and buried it in his coat pocket.

 

‹ Prev