The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

by Abigail Wilson

  Piers moved away a few inches from me on the sofa. “I don’t think you should move it too much as of yet. I’ll call Baker for the materials for a sling.”

  I waited as he tugged the bell pull.

  “What were you looking for?” I motioned with my chin. “Up there?”

  His focus retreated to the uppermost shelf. “I got to thinking after witnessing Avery and his friends at the abbey. A while back, my father told me he’d been part of a secret society called the Ancient Noble Order of the Gormogons. He was only a member for a short time, since it was my understanding they were disbanded along with all the secret societies except for the Freemasons by an act passed in 1799. The group was formed by a collection of Jacobites but later went on to focus more on charitable dealings. At least that’s what Father said.

  He rubbed his forehead. “I’m not certain he meant to disclose anything about the society to me at all. I simply stumbled onto a medal in his room that he’d buried in a drawer and forgot about. It was a round silver medallion, which had the sun and a dragon on one side and a large gentleman sitting on a throne on the other. My father, mistaken by the source of my questions, thought I’d come across a book he’d hidden in the library and decided to tell Avery and me something of the society, if we kept it secret of course. I thought little of the group and never even pursued the book he mentioned. I had my own troubles at the time.”

  I sat up. “Is that what you were about up there?”

  “I thought maybe I had found it when the shelf fell.”

  I pointed with my good hand. “Then by all means, go see at once.”

  He smiled. “I believe I will.”

  He crossed the room and knelt at the pile of books lying in a heap on the floor. Carefully he sifted through each one, opening and closing them until he came to a thin leather volume with rumpled pages. I could see the print was handwritten from across the room. He glanced up over the book’s edge. “Lucky break.”

  He pushed to his feet and made his way back to the sofa, sitting close so we could both see the pages.

  Neither of us heard Baker until he cleared his throat. “May I help you, sir?”

  Like a guilty child, Piers scooted away. “Ah, Baker, as you can see, Miss Halliwell has injured her arm. We’ll need some cloth and bandages to fashion a sling.”

  His eyes slid to the broken shelf. “I understand.” Then he turned and left the room.

  We watched his retreating figure until he disappeared from sight, the tickling fingers of embarrassment fighting for control of the situation. I felt a hint of a laugh on Piers’s breath, but we were far too interested in the book he’d found to give it rein. We crouched in again, his arm sliding neatly across the back of the sofa behind me. My finger brushed his as I moved to turn the page, and he looked up ever so briefly at my face.

  A heaviness hit my chest and I forced a breath. I knew in my heart he’d made no move to get close to me, not after what happened at the abbey, but here he was so real and my every waking thought of him so confusing. He only wanted friendship from me, so why did my mind keep slipping back to another place and time?

  I imagined inching forward and kissing him. Goodness, my muscles still remembered the movement and ached to do just that, but could I actually bring myself to do so after everything that had happened—to willingly surrender myself to another man? And what would it feel like? What would I feel like? Would he kiss me back?

  The moment passed as quickly as it had come, Piers clearly not as affected as I was. He pointed to a picture on the second page, his voice steady. “Look, this is similar to the medal I found in my father’s drawer, but smaller, and this one has a ribbon of Persian ivy. See the large leaves.”

  I squinted at the sketched picture. “Only you would know that. It also has the sun you were describing earlier, but this one is a collar jewel.”

  Piers snapped me a sideways glance before turning the page. Scrolled across the top in large letters were the words Members and Loyalty Pledge. We read in silence for several minutes, each handwritten line more interesting than the last.

  The book seemed to be an outline for membership as well as the means by which each person took what they called a loyalty pledge. Apparently in order to join the Gormogons the pending member would have to relinquish condemning information regarding himself or one of his family members, which would then be kept by the society as absolute collateral for loyalty to the organization.

  Piers flipped through the remaining pages, but one section was torn out. He slid the book onto a nearby table. “My father said he was not in the organization long.”

  “What collateral do you think he gave them?”

  He shrugged. “It could have been anything. The Cavanaghs have not been the wisest group of people.”

  I wanted to laugh at the truth of his statement, but pain was evident in his eyes.

  Though the world had branded Piers disgraceful, I had never thought of him that way, even before I knew the truth. As a young man he was bright, methodical, conscientious. Nothing like his siblings.

  “Do you think Avery is following in your father’s footsteps? He did call it a secret society.”

  “But they disbanded years ago. This group or whatever he likes to call it seems more to me like playacting.”

  “Yet they’ve arranged for some kind of mischief at the curricle race. Sabotage is nothing to take lightly.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Piers angled against the back of the sofa, his arm behind his head. “And Avery is too far involved to stop it now. I’m afraid we’ve little choice but to go to Whitecaster Hall and do a little hunting ourselves.”

  My eyes widened. “You mean to the ball? Will we even be invited?”

  “Mother will certainly have an invitation. Kendal’s fiancée, Honora, is a distant cousin of ours. Mother will need an escort.”

  “Yes, Honora . . .” My voice felt weak. “I know I already asked, but what exactly happened between you and her?”

  He took so long to answer I began to wonder if he’d heard the question at all. But then his eyes met mine and he spoke rather softly. “You know full well it was wrong from the start. I knew it. She knew it. But our parents were so pleased by the association.”

  “Was she one of the reasons you wrote me that letter?”

  The color seemed to drain from his face.

  I added quickly, “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just wondered.”

  He spoke with determined calm, but I felt the charge of the silence that crept into our conversation, starting and stopping his words. “I told you before you left that I had to settle things between Honora and me. But life has a way of changing things when you least expect it. In that same time I was branded a coward, shunned by society, disdained by my mother. I could no more pursue you than any young lady. Honora publicly rejected me, which only added to my shame. It probably sounds strange for me to say so, but I’m glad she has found happiness with Lord Kendal.”

  My chest tightened. “But what about you?”

  He forced something just short of a smile. “I strive each day to take care of my father as well as his responsibilities, keep Avery on the right path, and provide for Seline. Trust me, I’m a busy man.”

  I searched his eyes. But not a happy one.

  Baker walked into the room then with an arm full of supplies.

  Piers rose and accepted the bandages. “Thank you.” He set them on the sofa at my side and knelt casually before me, almost as if we’d not had such an intimate conversation. “You’ll only need to wear this for a short time, but I’m afraid you’ll feel the effects in your shoulder for a while.”

  He draped the fabric under my bent arm and around my back, then tied the ends on top of the opposite shoulder. “Now how does that feel?” He rested his hand on my good arm.

  And for some odd reason I fought back a surge of tears. My arm felt better, really. So what was driving my rampant emotions? I watched as Piers folded the extra bandages and sli
d them back into the medical box, his fingers always so precise.

  And then it hit me.

  Piers had always been the one person in East Whitloe I could count on, the one person who understood me. For years I’d grieved the loss of our relationship, but had I ever really considered the loss of our friendship? I simply missed him.

  And here we were sharing in the same comfort and affection we had so many times before, but with one terribly painful caveat—there would never be anything more between us. His shame was a public one; mine private. We were standing on two very different mountain peaks yet staring at the valley below with no possible way to meet in the middle. Piers Cavanagh was a gentleman. Avery would carry on the family name and his children would eventually inherit Loxby Manor. And I knew in my heart that marriage was not the right choice for me, not after all I’d been through.

  I needed to start looking for a governess position and sooner than I’d originally thought.

  Chapter 17

  The invitation for Lord Kendal’s ball finally came the following week. It had been long in its arrival, and I was beginning to wonder if we were to be invited at all. Piers caught my eye across the drawing room as he folded the letter closed.

  “It seems we’ve been invited.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh sat up at once. “Well, I should say so.” Then she slumped back down. “Of course, how could we possibly travel to Whitecaster Hall with Seline still unaccounted for?”

  Avery was quick to pipe up. “I’d be happy to grace the ballroom as the representative for our family, to give the happy couple our good wishes of course.”

  Piers shot me a look, then steadied his gaze on Avery. “Though I do thank you for such a generous offer, I daresay it prudent for us all to attend.”

  Avery gave him just what Piers was watching for—a rather sharp glare followed all too quickly by a pout. “You do realize that Honora will be there.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh’s growl echoed her son’s. “Yes, Piers, I do not think—”

  “I daresay it’s past time I was able to speak with Honora Gervey.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh flicked open her fan and quivered it before her face. “’Pon my word, you don’t mean to make a scene, do you? Because I absolutely refuse to—”

  “No, Mother.” Piers picked at a piece of lint on his breeches. “I merely mean to wish her good fortune in her marriage.”

  “Well,” she huffed. “If that is the case . . .”

  Avery, however, grumbled on, “What about Kendal?”

  “I suppose I shall endeavor to avoid him.”

  Avery’s eyes narrowed. “As I imagined. But if I may, why the sudden interest, brother?”

  Piers crossed one boot over his opposing knee, an air of distraction about him, but I knew better. He cleared his throat. “Kendal was the last person to speak with Seline before she left. Aren’t you the least bit curious what was said?”

  Avery shifted in his seat. “I guess so.”

  Piers lifted his eyebrows. “You guess so?”

  “Oh, all right. It makes perfect sense to question the gentleman. I just wished I’d thought of the idea first.”

  Mrs. Cavanagh seemed to brighten. “We should all go. After all, it would be remarkable for me not to do so, considering I never miss a social occasion. It would certainly be remarked otherwise, and we mean to maintain Seline’s innocence as long as possible.”

  My lips parted. “But what about her supposed illness?”

  “I’ve never hovered over a single one of my children. It would be odd for me to start doing so now. We shall simply remark in passing that I employed a very fine nurse, for you must accompany me as well, Charity dear. I could not bear the ordeal without a companion by my side.” She had a suppliant expression, well-practiced, which she employed to full affect. I found myself equally agreeing in my heart all the while shrugging off a chill.

  Why the sudden invitation? Would something be required of me at the ball?

  My going was settled before I’d had a chance to answer. Avery declared it a remarkable idea, and with Piers agreeing so readily, I daresay it was what he’d wanted from the start. In fact, with such enthusiasm, I began to warm to the idea. After all, it would give us a chance to snoop around Whitecaster Hall.

  It wasn’t until later that evening that I had the chance to speak with Piers alone about the idea. He timed his move perfectly. As I finished the last few notes of a song on the pianoforte, he feigned interest in the darkness beyond the bow window—the perfect spot for a tête-à-tête.

  His finger caught my arm as I brushed past him on my way to the sofa. The room’s well-placed pillar provided the intimacy he sought. “Can you understand me here?”

  I nodded, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. Piers had always managed to find various ways for the two of us to be alone. Even in a room full of people, he was attuned to my needs.

  He dipped his chin. “What do you think about my plans for the ball?”

  “I believe you were right to encourage us to go. The opportunity might indeed prove useful.”

  He edged in a bit closer, closing the gap between the column and the wall. “While we’re there”—his voice sounded strained—“do you think you could tempt Lord Kendal into asking you for a dance?”

  I blinked, an uncomfortable laugh aching to slip out of my mouth. “And how exactly do you expect me to do that? Lord Kendal and I barely know one another, and he’s never shown any interest before. You know I’ll never be considered a toast.”

  Piers gave me a curious look. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Joke as if you’ve nothing to recommend yourself.”

  Then I did laugh. “Because I don’t.”

  His face grew serious and it took him a moment to respond. “I would consider Lord Kendal a fool if he gave up a chance to dance with you.”

  My cheeks filled with warmth, and I turned away. “What if he does ask me? What then?”

  “Use the moment to question what exactly he and Seline talked about. You’re her friend, and she would certainly take you into her confidence. It would be only natural that you harbor concern for her. Tell him she’s fallen into a decline.”

  My shoulders felt heavy, my left one still harboring the faintest ache from the fall in the library the previous week. “You are forgetting one rather important detail.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I won’t be able to hear anything he says in the middle of the dance floor.” My hand sought the comfort of my throat. “You know with any noise, I can’t—”

  I felt his light touch at the small of my back, and my focus snapped toward the room. Avery and his mother were deep in conversation near the fire. Neither was the least interested in what Piers and I were doing hiding beside the pianoforte. His touch felt personal, closed away as we were from the rest of the company.

  Piers seemed confused by my expression, then jerked his hand off my back. “I do apologize. I, uh, momentarily forgot my place. It won’t happen again.” He propped himself against the column. “What if you were to go about your dance with Kendal in a different way? You could plan the dance, but at the last minute declare you’d rather take a turn with him in the garden.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a bit bold of me?”

  “Seline certainly would, and if I take Honora there myself, Kendal will be chomping at the bit to follow.”

  The garden.

  I pressed my hands together to hide an inward shiver. Piers didn’t know that I’d rarely visited any gardens at balls. Could I actually go there—with Lord Kendal?

  Piers watched me with that probing look of his, and I was caught in his gaze. Then his shoulders relaxed. “You needn’t worry. I’ll be in there watching you the whole time. What happened with Seline and Kendal was no more than a silly lark. Touch her ankles indeed. I never should have called him out for it.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Slowly, a knit formed across his brow. “Then what?”
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  For a breathless moment I thought I might actually tell him, but the bell of self-preservation rang loudly in my mind.

  I gave him a passable shrug. “I’m simply worried I might not be able to uncover the information we seek. After all, I’m hardly a Bow Street runner.”

  He mirrored my tentative grin. “All we can do is try.”

  I nodded, and just like that I’d agreed to an intimate conversation with a gentleman I barely knew in a garden, of all places. I thought I might be sick.

  * * *

  The next few times I visited Mr. Cavanagh in his room was of my own choosing. The very idea of him lying there day after day with little more than a tight-lipped nurse would be more than many could bear. And I’d never expected it, but I’d come to enjoy his conversation.

  He was a great deal like Piers, actually. An easy listener with calm mannerisms, a wise counsel with none of the confusing feelings of attraction.

  Mr. Cavanagh’s deep scowl transformed into a smile as I swept the gown of my skirt beneath my legs and took a seat at his side. “How are you today, Mr. Cavanagh?”

  He reached out his hand for mine. “A great deal better now, and I’m happy to report I have been a bit stronger this week. I’ve spent more of my time in my chair as you suggested, and it seems to have done me a world of good. I’m not certain why I’d not done so before. Everyone keeps telling me how weak I am, but you are in the right of it. How am I to get better if I don’t ever push myself?”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  His lips twitched. “Are you to attend this ball I keep hearing about?”

  The question was a surprise but an equally prudent reminder that Mrs. Cavanagh liked to talk. “I shall accompany Mrs. Cavanagh of course. Although, on the whole I’d rather not go.”

  “Not go?”

  I realized my mistake at once. What reason could I possibly have for wanting to avoid a ball? “I suppose I loathe the idea of everyone staring at us, sneering at the Cavanagh family. Since Seline’s scandal, I mean. They’ve probably all heard what happened between Miles and her in the stables.”