The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

by Abigail Wilson

  He scrunched up his nose. “I’m told by Baker that we’ve done a fair job of managing the whole thing, and your being there will help put to rest any further rumors. Most in attendance will be blissfully ignorant of what transpired that day.”

  “I suppose you are right.” I wished I’d controlled the hesitation in my voice a bit better.

  Consternation crossed his face. “You can consider yourself one of the Cavanaghs while you are under my roof. Hold your head high.”

  A Cavanagh. If only I really were one.

  He went on, “And Piers will be there. He of all people has a far bigger burden to bear. He shall be forced to face Honora Gervey after all this time.”

  My gaze snapped to the bed. “I suppose Mrs. Cavanagh informed you he planned to join our party.”

  “No, but I’m certain she will. Piers told me himself this morning.”

  My mouth fell open, but I can’t say why. Certainly Piers would meet with his father. He was managing the estate, after all, but the very idea of them discussing matters of the heart . . . It felt so, so strange. I’d had little relationship with my own father, and here was Mr. Cavanagh well versed on each of his three children’s personal affairs.

  Mr. Cavanagh held up his finger. “You must keep your promise now. Not a word to anyone about Seline. This family might come about after all. Do you know that Piers mentioned taking up residence once again at Loxby Manor?”

  “No. Did he say why?”

  “He’s still terribly resolute about remaining a bachelor, but he no longer wishes for life to simply pass him by. I lay that spark of interest firmly at your door, my dear. In one way or another, you’ve made him remember what he owes the family. I don’t know if you were aware, but Piers was very much in love with you at one time. I daresay you know as well as anybody that such feelings are not easily cast aside.”

  * * *

  A letter from my mother arrived the following morning. My initial delight at seeing her familiar handwriting faded rather quickly into fear of what the letter might contain. I’d written her about the scandal, and I knew all too well her solution to my awkward placement would involve my removal to America. Though I knew it prudent to make plans to leave, I wasn’t ready to depart Loxby Manor, not when Piers and I were so close to figuring out the mystery surrounding Seline.

  I took the letter to my bedchamber and settled comfortably onto the window seat. Carefully I broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper. To my great surprise, a second letter fell from the inner pocket of the first, onto the floor. What on earth? I hesitated before recovering the small interior note, lost as to who might have included one with my mother’s.

  I turned the paper over. Arthur?

  I tore into the second seal. Arthur had indeed dashed off a note to me. I recognized his stilted handwriting at once. Though he’d written to me before, it had only been the one time to tell me he’d settled in America. I glanced at the window. What would prompt him to do so now?

  Charity,

  Mama is wholly unaware of my including this note within her letter, and I would prefer she and the Cavanaghs remain in the dark. It was a decided risk, but I thought it might go unremarked hidden as it was.

  I write to beg you to be careful. There is much you don’t know about the people who reside at Loxby Manor. I had no idea you were to spend the year there, or I never would have let you go. As soon as you can arrange passage to America, do so and straightaway, but tell no one of your plans. I dare not say any more in writing. Trust no one.

  Your loving brother,

  Arthur

  Chapter 18

  Arthur had been right. There was a great deal more going on at Loxby Manor than people were aware of. What he knew, I couldn’t guess, but now was not the time to book passage to America. I had to get answers first—for Seline. And Piers would protect me.

  The Cavanaghs had received a letter as well from Piers’s uncle Charles, which only intensified my need to speak with Kendal alone. It seemed Uncle Charles had found nothing. Seline had truly vanished.

  My only chance for answers was to attend Lord Kendal’s ball.

  I donned my best evening gown that night, a round robe of gold crepe laid over a white satin slip with bows decorating each shoulder. I gave my maid free rein with my hair, which she divided down the middle, then swept up in a beautiful coiffure atop my head, leaving a few loose curls on either side of my forehead.

  I thought the resulting creation rather attractive. I’d not worn my hair in such a way before, but it did little to squelch my concerns. Not only was I expected to lure Lord Kendal into the garden for a walk, which could only be considered presumptuous of me, but there was Arthur’s warning in the letter. And Mr. Cavanagh’s words about Piers were never far from my mind.

  Had he truly loved me before I left for Ceylon? He’d never said so, not exactly. I knew he cared for me a great deal, and I him. He’d risked everything for me. But after I received his letter so long ago, my memories had shifted. It was so easy to convince myself I’d been nothing more than an enjoyable distraction. Avery and Seline had certainly echoed my thoughts by the tone of their letters.

  Piers, however, was not a man to be distracted by anyone. I knew that now. Really, I knew it then. Just one more reason I adored him. I stared at my reflection in the looking glass. Somewhere along the way the girl of five years ago had turned into a woman—a damaged one. I touched my pale cheek, startled by the warmth beneath my fingertips.

  I swiped a bit of powder across my nose. If I was to understand the Piers of today, I had to understand everything that happened to him the years I was away. So much of the scandal that rocked the Cavanagh family rested firmly at my feet, but so much more had gone on while I was away. What better person to expose what happened than Lord Kendal?

  Mrs. Cavanagh had instructed me to join the family in the receiving hall at six o’clock, which is where I found Piers waiting alone, deep in thought, his arm perched on the fireplace mantel. As I took in the stoic figure he presented, I nearly stumbled, grasping the banister to avoid complete embarrassment. He turned at the sound, his brow tugging inward, the pocket watch in his fingers slipping to the far end of the fob.

  He straightened and his black tailcoat fell neatly into place. “And here I thought I was the only one in this household who possessed the ability to arrive on time.”

  He crossed the room and offered me his arm. “I’m certain you’ve noticed how Avery and my mother enjoy being fashionably late.” The air felt dangerously thin between us as his eyes met my own. “You look lovely. Do you feel ready?”

  A rush of nerves filled my chest, and I came rather close to blurting out, “For what?” before it donned on me what he was referring to. He meant the investigation of Lord Kendal of course. Nothing about us. Goodness, I’d put far too much thought into what Mr. Cavanagh had said.

  I moved into the roving heat of the flames, my heart flighty at best. “I shall do my utmost to uncover something we can use.”

  Piers’s hand was at his chin, his gaze pinned to the roaring fireplace. “There is something I need to tell you. I spoke with my father this afternoon and—”

  Footsteps pounded from a far-off corridor, and I could have screamed as Avery pranced into the front room. He headed straight for the window, his gait rushed, his face bereft of the good humor he so often employed to his benefit. He stared out before turning to face the room. “I won’t be returning in the carriage tonight. I’m to stay at Whitecaster with Kendal. I’m to assist with the curricle race.”

  Piers didn’t miss a beat. “Then Kendal still plans to race first thing in the morning.”

  “It’s all arranged. Really no reason to change it now.”

  Piers cast me a sideways glance. “I’ve heard the book at White’s has gained quite a few more bets for this particular race, which involve a great deal of money.”

  He scowled. “Really? More?” Then he sauntered over to the hall chair and flopped down. “All I kno
w is Kendal will beat Blakemoor handily, and it shall be a good thing for my pocketbook.”

  “You’re certain of this? Interesting that everyone else in London thinks otherwise.”

  Avery shifted his weight in the chair. “Well, not exactly. What do you take me for, a soothsayer? Blakemoor is cow handed. We’ve all been saying it for years. And Kendal’s got some prime horseflesh.”

  “What horses?” I asked.

  “Got ’em from Tattersall’s a few weeks back. A couple of high steppers, and in the hands of Kendal, they’ll be nigh unbeatable. And Blakemoor’s cow handed, I tell you. He’ll lose the race sure enough.”

  Baker entered the receiving room, and I assumed he’d come to speak with Piers as he made his way across the rug, but he headed straight to me and held out a folded piece of paper. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Halliwell, but I was asked to give this to you.”

  After my letter from Arthur, the note felt cold as I took it into my fingers. Captured by the questioning looks of Piers and Avery, I kept the note firmly in my hand and stood. “If you will excuse me.”

  They nodded and I escaped to the back hall with a candle where I carefully opened the note. I didn’t recognize the handwriting. It appeared rushed, the ink smudged, and it took more than one read through to fully understand the message in its entirety.

  Miss Halliwell,

  I’ve had another letter from my nephew, and I must speak to you at once. Please meet me beneath the archway to the stables before you depart Loxby Manor. It is a grave matter that warrants your utmost attention.

  Mr. Lacy

  Head Groom

  I took a quick look behind me, the darkness suddenly alive with sounds. What on earth could Mr. Lacy need to tell me tonight? And should I involve Piers with Avery so close?

  No, I knew I couldn’t risk it.

  Instead, I was forced to circle around the upper floor and utilize the side entrance beyond the great hall. Even then, I was careful not to make a sound as I swung open the heavy door and slipped into the night.

  The moon was in and out of the clouds, but I hadn’t far to walk before I saw Mr. Lacy lurking in the shadows of the stables’ arched entryway. He scraped his hand through his hair in short, jerky movements as he watched me approach.

  “Thank you for coming, Miss Halliwell. I wasn’t certain I should involve you at all, but you were the only person who came to mind. I’m lost as to who to trust. You are the only one I’m certain is outside of all this. He shook his hand before plunging it into a coat pocket. “I’ve had another letter from Miles.”

  “Oh?” A wave of unease splashed across my chest. “What did he say?”

  Mr. Lacy tugged at his shirt collar. “Miles’s in a muddle, I tell you. Never had any sense, that boy. Which is why I couldn’t possibly speak with Mr. Cavanagh—my very livelihood hangs in the balance.” Another tug on his shirt before he pushed his hand to the back of his neck. “It seems Miles didn’t leave the area as he agreed to.”

  I leaned forward, the hairs on my arms prickling in the cool breeze. “He didn’t? Why ever not?”

  His gaze turned somber before it plunged to the ground. “He’s at Whitecaster Hall.”

  “Lord Kendal’s estate?”

  “Apparently Kendal paid Miles to assist with the upcoming curricle race.”

  I pressed my hand to my forehead. “I cannot believe it.” Then I eyed the head groom, a curious thought taking shape in my mind. Why was Mr. Lacy telling me all this?

  His fingers shook against the loose paper in his hands. “I’m afraid for my nephew. He sounds desperate this time. I hoped you might be able to speak with him when you go to Whitecaster today, remind him what he promised me from the start. I don’t know what I’ll do if any of the Cavanaghs hear of this. Servants talk, and I’m afraid the gossip will alight tonight at the ball. Mr. Cavanagh cannot know. My very future is at stake.”

  Ice twisted in my chest as I glared back at the house. Piers would be coming this way at any moment. Why had I dropped him that note? Poor Mr. Lacy only wanted to keep his position, to set things right.

  Mr. Lacy’s shoulders curved forward under the weight of his anxiety. “Mrs. Cavanagh has been to the stables daily, asking for word about Miles. She’ll not allow me to stay on if she learns my nephew has not held up his end of the bargain. I curse the day I ever stuck my neck out for that maddening boy.”

  I touched his arm. “I’ll do my best to speak with Miles, and I understand your concern.”

  “Thank you. I hoped you might.” He sounded so hopeful, but his momentary relief faded all too quickly as he balled his fingers into a fist at his side. “I fear certain something terrible is planned for that race. The amount of money he’s been paid, well, it’s far too much for a simple groom’s work.”

  The sabotage!

  I took a step back. Could the Gormogons have employed Miles Lacy to carry out their plan?

  “Did your nephew say anything else, anything specific I might go on?”

  He rubbed his chin. “I’m afraid not. He simply wrote for me to trust him, that his staying in the area would eventually pay off. He seemed to imply he meant to compensate me for my troubles.”

  A surge of wind shook the trees and howled its way beneath the stone arch. Mr. Lacy stared into the darkness around us as the shadows seemed to edge in place. My focus fell to the piece of paper in his hand. If Miles Lacy was at Whitecaster Hall, then Seline most certainly did not run away with him.

  “Mr. Lacy?”

  “Yes.” His voice sounded gruff, his eyes like an owl’s in the dim light.

  “Do you still think Miles had nothing to do with Seline’s disappearance?”

  He shook his head, but I wasn’t to hear what he said as I heard a door in the distance. I jerked a glance behind me. “Thank you for trusting me with this information, but I must go at once. We’ll speak again soon, and I promise you I’ll try to find Miles as soon as I can once I’ve arrived at Whitecaster Hall.”

  I whirled away and walked off at a brisk pace, caught up in not only my fear of accidental discovery but the first definitive proof of what I’d anticipated all along. Seline did not write that note the maid found in her room. Miles Lacy might very well hold the key to determining what really happened to her. I had to talk to him. Of course there was one rather big question: should I do so without telling Piers?

  Chapter 19

  I’d heard Whitecaster Hall was magnificent, newly built and elaborately sculpted—a rectangular palace with symmetrical outcroppings and pillars like the pantheon in Rome. However, as we were late leaving Loxby, there was no light with which to view Whitecaster Hall in all its splendor.

  That is, until we breached the front door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found inside.

  We were met by a brilliance of light like nothing I’d ever seen. It spilled down from every angle, arresting each guest as they traversed the entryway door—hundreds upon hundreds of beeswax candles. The whispered awe of the ladies around me ran rampant as they moved to count every last candle. A woman wearing a particularly large ostrich feather in her hat turned to her companion and declared the spectacle a fine tribute to honor Lord Kendal’s affianced bride.

  I found the sentiment a bit difficult to grasp. Who would spend such a ridiculous amount of money on a hallway?

  Piers was no doubt thinking the same as his left eyebrow inched upward. He caught my incredulous stare and covered a laugh.

  “Careful.” I took in our surroundings. “We don’t want to offend our host after we’ve just arrived.”

  Straightening, Piers offered me his arm. “I swear nothing shall surprise me after what I’ve seen tonight.” A few steps forward and we’d created enough space between us and his mother and Avery for some semblance of privacy. He touched my gloved hand. “Are you ready?”

  How to answer such a question? Ready for my tête-à-tête with Lord Kendal? Hardly. And worse, I now had the added stress of seeking out Miles Lacy. />
  I looked up. “And what about you? I’m greatly concerned Lord Kendal may not be as receptive to your presence in his home as you seem to think he will be.”

  Piers shrugged. “It’s possible he’ll continue to cut me, but he’d never make a scene. Not when Honora is the guest of honor.”

  “Have you seen her recently?”

  He shot me a curious glance. “Certainly not. We did not part on the best of terms. Granted, she was always . . . How to describe it . . . Tactful with me.” He glared off into the shadows for a moment, then turned back to me. “Rest assured, she was no more in love with me than I was with—”

  He wasn’t to finish his sentence, as Lord Kendal and Honora Gervey appeared directly ahead, greeting the guests as they passed into the ballroom. I could feel the muscles tighten in Piers’s arm.

  I took a deep breath. This would not be easy for either of us, but we had each other.

  Honora was the first to spot us through the crowds. With her raven-black hair and snow-white cheeks, no one could have missed the flush that crept across her face. She touched Kendal’s arm to gain his attention and whispered into his ear. His eyes snapped forward, and he stared at us a long second before the insidious workings of a smile crossed his face.

  A few charged steps and we were before them.

  Kendal spoke first, but he made certain we understood he was directing the conversation to me and me alone. “Miss Halliwell, if I’m not mistaken, it’s been some time.”

  I lowered my chin. “I’ve just returned from Ceylon where I spent the last five years.”

  “Five years!” His eyes brightened. “How can it possibly have been so long?” He slid a glare at Piers, then came back to me. “It was good of you to accompany Mrs. Cavanagh tonight as Seline could not. I do hope you enjoy the evening.”

  Avery was behind us now, and Lord Kendal purposefully dismissed us. It was Honora’s sheepish gaze that graced our exit, but she didn’t say a word.