It took me a moment to produce the words burning on my tongue. “She suffered a blow to the head. We can only assume that is what killed her.”
“A blow to the head?” Her whispered words echoed my own astonishment. Then a wrinkle formed on Priscilla’s brow. “I must say, that does make me think of something.” Her eyes flit about the room. “You know, the night Hugh went to the abbey I went looking for him. I even walked to the stables to see if his horse was indeed gone.”
“And was it?”
“Well, yes, he’d taken it with him. But on my way back to the house, I heard a scuffle then the pounding of horses’ hooves. I thought it was Hugh returning home, but he didn’t appear like I thought he would. I started toward the main road to intercept him, but it was the strangest thing. I saw a shadow heading the opposite direction.”
“A person? What did they look like?”
“I’m fairly certain it was a man. Well, I’m partially certain. The figure was a long way away and moving fast. Then Hugh arrived. We walked back to the house together, and I thought no more about it.” She leaned forward, her eyes growing wide as saucers. “You don’t think we were a few yards away from a murderer, do you?”
Chapter 25
The next few weeks shot by in a blur, the effects I still have not completely recovered from. Tony brought word that Piers’s duel would continue to be delayed and the curricle race likely to be canceled entirely. The authorities were in and out of Loxby Manor at all hours, asking questions and taking information.
Mrs. Cavanagh went straight into seclusion, emerging only for the events surrounding the funeral and the arrival of her brother-in-law, Charles, leaving Piers and Avery the difficult task of telling their father what had transpired.
At the close of the week, I was informed by a servant that the doctor was summoned due to Mr. Cavanagh’s deteriorating health, but thankfully the concern passed within the next few days. Even so, Piers and Avery decided it was best to remain at their father’s bedside for the immediate future. Rightfully so, I was not asked to visit or share in his care, but I had grown fond of Mr. Cavanagh, and the sudden removal of him from my life only furthered my isolation.
Thus, I was left to process the reality of Seline’s tragic death in my own time and my own way. The days leading up to the funeral and shortly after were the worst. I found it hard even to think or move. After all, I was the one person who could have stopped her from leaving the house that night—at times I found the crushing guilt almost too difficult to bear.
Snowdrop rarely left my side as I spent the long hours in my bedchamber or alone in the library, my favorite refuge in those difficult days. It wasn’t long before I realized books offered me a blessed escape that calmed my mind and refocused my purpose in remaining at Loxby Manor.
Though I’d hoped with all my heart to find Seline alive, soon enough questions about the strange circumstances of her demise began to trickle back into my mind. If I couldn’t save her, perhaps I could do some good in bringing her killer to justice.
It was a passing thought that took root, deeper and deeper, in the weeks that followed, which only hardened my resolve to uncover the truth. Piers and I had made quite a bit of progress in our prior investigation, yet something remained elusive, a piece of information we had yet to learn, and I was determined to figure out what it was.
My gaze flicked to the bookshelf, to the very top where Piers and I had found the leather journal detailing the intricacies of the Gormogon secret society. Though at first Avery had scoffed at the idea that his group of friends could somehow be involved in Seline’s disappearance, now everything had changed. Nothing could be glossed over or dismissed. Seline, my dearest friend, was dead and not in any normal way. She had been struck over the head, as Miles Lacy had, and buried where her murderer meant for her to be forgotten.
I tapped my fingers against the soft fabric of the sofa. All the clues thus far pointed back one way or another to that secretive group of Avery’s. If I had to guess, the key to what happened to Seline lay somewhere in the complexities of the Noble Order.
I sat motionless for a moment, breathing in the fresh scent of a rolling fire, the flames swaying before my eyes. Piers had said the order was abolished with all other secret societies by a law in 1799, but what if factions of the group had prevailed? Or someone had revived it at a later date? But for what purpose?
Avery, Tony, and Hugh seemed to think their little group a pledge to friendship, but there was something more, something devious to the ritualistic practices of the meeting I’d observed—and the even more surprising movement of the faceless statue.
I imagined the men huddled in their cloaks before the fire. I could see them all sitting there as if the meeting had happened yesterday. Avery, Hugh, Tony, and Lord Kendal.
Wait . . . My eyes widened. There had been five stone seats encircling the fire at Kinwich Abbey, yet there were only four members that we knew of. I stiffened, my nerves prickling across my skin like a horde of spiders. What if there was a fifth member?
I flew to my feet and made my way over to the bookcase. The servants had repaired the shelf and ladder and replaced the books in their proper places, but a few steps forward and I could already see that something was different.
The leather-bound journal was gone.
* * *
I searched for Piers all afternoon, as he could have easily been the one to take the book about the Gormogons, but it was he who found me on the east rise as I strolled the grounds.
He had to make a bit of a dash to catch me and drew up beside me panting. Then he laughed. “I’m not certain I’ve run so far in years.”
I mirrored his amusement. “Then I’m glad I provided you with some exercise.”
We stopped in the shade of an oak tree, Loxby Manor tucked behind the far hill. It was the time of year where the sun was hot but the shade a blessed cool.
“How is your father today?”
I was happy to see that the dark circles that had lived beneath Piers’s eyes for the past few weeks had faded a bit. His face was far less pale. He affected a smile. “I believe he is a little better today. He allowed me to help him to his chair. I think Avery and I can turn over most of the nursing duties to the staff at this point.”
“And your mother?”
He looked down. “She continues to keep to her room, but I asked if she’d allow you to visit, and I do think she would appreciate a change in her daily routine.”
“Then I shall go to her at once.”
His arm shot out. “Please, will you stay for a moment with me? I have something I wish to talk to you about.”
It took me a moment to answer, but I could think of no excuse. “All right.”
He paced the shadowed ground. “I had a dream last night. It was about Seline, only I never really saw her face. I saw a cloaked figure on horseback, and it brought something to mind.”
The breeze was a refreshing one, a cool splash of spring, and I turned my head to enjoy it. “Yes?”
“You see, I woke in a panic, the images my mind had created still lifelike before me. That’s when I made the connection.” He stopped, his eyes finding mine. “When we recovered Seline’s body, she wasn’t wearing a cloak.”
My heart seized in my chest. “She wasn’t?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Nor was one recovered anywhere nearby.”
I felt almost dizzy as I reached for a nearby branch. “The murderer must have removed it.”
He shrugged. “Or she took it off somewhere else, but why would she? And if that is true, why haven’t we found it?”
I started pacing. “We found my brooch on the road to Rushridge. Perhaps the cloak fell off sometime after that.”
“That is just what I think. Particularly if there was a struggle, the brooch could have easily come off then.”
I imagined what the gruesome scene might look like and my stomach turned, but not before an idea popped into my mind, which I rolled around in
my thoughts before lifting my eyebrows. “You said you assumed the figure in your dream was Seline, but she was wearing a cloak and you couldn’t see her face. What if the murderer experienced just the opposite? What if he mistook Seline for someone else, and she was dead before he realized his mistake?
Piers flopped against a tree trunk as he ran his hand down his face. “You mean the killer thought he’d come upon Hugh on his way home?”
“Exactly.”
We both stood in silence, my suggestion far too plausible to dismiss. What had Priscilla overheard the day Seline’s body was found? Something about Hugh wanting out. Was it possible that he was trying to leave the Gormogons?
Piers crossed his arms. “I need to speak with Avery again. I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface of this secret society. I continually get the feeling everyone is hiding something.”
I told him my suspicions of a fifth member and he hung his head, the lines that had set up residence on his forehead deepening with each revelation.
I touched his arm. “And the journal in the library has disappeared.”
His eyes rounded.
“It’s time to reopen the door to the investigation. Are you ready?”
“I will admit, the past few weeks have been like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.” He peeked down at my hand resting on his arm. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t at Loxby.”
Startled, I pulled away. “I did little to warrant any gratitude.”
“Just your being here, your wise council, your calm spirit. Believe me when I say it’s made all the difference. I may never be fully ready to learn who took the life of my sister, but at the same time, I cannot rest until I do. I know you feel the same way.”
The gentle tug of his fingers urging me closer was nearly imperceptible, but with little more than a passing thought, willingly I stepped forward into his waiting arms. The embrace was soft and gentle at first, like two friends, but as his hands made their way up my back, he drew me closer . . . closer . . . until my body pressed tight against his, his warmth seeping through my muscles like the relief of hot water on a bitter winter day. We held each other in comfortable silence for I don’t know how long, his head resting on mine, his arms terribly tight, as though if either one of us were to let go, the other might simply slip away.
I didn’t dare move as my heart beat wildly and my thoughts dissolved into the shimmering residue of fireworks that fall from a dark sky. He felt so good, so safe. The one man I could trust.
The one man I could trust. I repeated the idea over and over again in my mind, my muscles relaxing in turn as tears filled my eyes. Was this what I had been searching for all along? Had I simply confused the absence of pain with the absence of affection? With some half-baked idea of self-preservation?
Eventually Piers’s hold slackened, and he took a step back, his gaze darting around the small grove as if lost.
It seemed the embrace had snuck up on both of us.
He gave me a tentative smile. “It’s time I walk you back to the house.”
I nodded, as was the proper answer to give, moving at once to accept his outstretched arm. But as I slid my hand onto the crook of his jacket, a new, far more daring thought surged to the forefront of my mind, one I would be pondering for the days to come—for the first time since the assault, with Piers and Piers alone, I would have been willing to stay right there in his arms, to finally breach the wall of uncertainty I’d built to protect myself, to finally find out what would happen next, what hidden demons waited in the darkness beyond the wall.
* * *
Avery spent the weeks following the funeral at Rushridge with Hugh and Priscilla. Though Mrs. Cavanagh disparaged his choice to abandon Loxby, I knew he left because he had to find a way to survive the overwhelming guilt, the never-ending sadness, the hole Seline’s departure had left in all our lives.
None of us would ever be the same, not on earth at least.
I doubted Avery would return home for some time. Thus I had quite a shock when I found him standing in the first-floor sitting room staring out the large central window the very day I’d embraced Piers on our walk.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Good morning, Charity.” Gone was the carefree smile he’d always shared. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, matching the black band on his arm. “I came to speak with Piers. Baker is fetching him for me.”
I crossed the room in silence, hesitant at first to come close, as I felt a bit of an intruder, but then I caught sight of the prospect beyond the glass. Small openings in the thick clouds had allowed the sun’s textured rays to filter through, painting ribbons of warmth and light that stretched from the heavens to the earth. I, too, was transfixed.
Avery didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Sometimes I imagine her gazing down on us, wondering why the devil we don’t just get on with our lives. Seline never did have any patience for introspection. She was far too impulsive for that—and I loved her for it.”
“We all did.” I moved into his view. “Avery, I want to ask you something.”
I thought I saw his arm clench. “Yes?”
“It’s about the secret society. You told us some time ago that Tony, Hugh, Kendal, and you initiated the group. However, lately I get the feeling someone else might have been involved.”
He pivoted to face me, his eyes colder than I’d seen them before. “Let Seline rest in peace, Charity. You’ll only make things worse by meddling in something you know nothing about.”
I felt something inside me crumble. What was hiding in that mind of his? That he mourned the passing of his sister was certain, but how many secrets had he been forced to swallow?
Piers crossed the threshold into the room just as Avery made a move for the door.
“It’s good to have you home.”
Avery cast me a quick look, his face indeterminate at best, then took a tattered breath. “I’ve brought news from Lord Kendal . . . and it’s not pleasant.”
The color drained from Piers’s face. “What is it?”
“The date for his marriage is set, and he means to have the duel before then. He sent his seconds to Rushridge with a written letter.”
I jerked forward. “But that is absurd—now of all times? Seline’s only been gone a few weeks.”
“It’ll be a month tomorrow since we found her, and”—Avery raised his eyebrows—“Kendal’s been waiting on this duel for far too long as it is.”
I whirled on Piers in desperation. “Surely you don’t mean to meet him now, after everything that has happened.”
Piers didn’t spare me a glance. “You may arrange the meeting for dawn the day after tomorrow on the green beyond the upper branches of the River Sternway. It is sufficiently remote and secluded there. Tell Kendal I am more than ready to put this unfortunate business behind me as well.”
I heard Avery swallow. “That’s miles on the far side of Whitecaster Hall. You’ll have to overnight in Eastward.”
“Indeed, as I intend to keep the duel as far away from Loxby Manor as I can get. We’ve had far too much death around here already.”
Avery shoulders slumped. “Swords or pistols?”
Piers’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Pistols of course.”
Chapter 26
Waiting was never easy, and I swear that’s all I had done since I’d arrived at Loxby Manor—first for Seline, then for answers about her disappearance. Well, now I was waiting for the blasted duel to arrive that would take Piers away from me.
Sleep proved elusive, and I woke with the servants the day Piers had arranged for his afternoon departure. As the duel would take place near Whitecaster Hall, he’d planned to overnight at the Dovetail Inn in Eastward.
After an early morning spent drinking chocolate and a bit of distracted reading, I decided to pass the hours with Mrs. Cavanagh in her bedchamber. Though I couldn’t tell her about the upcoming duel and would be forced to pretend nothing had changed in the house, it was also time I bro
ke her self-inflicted isolation. Piers continued to worry about his mother, and considering she had not emerged from her room in several days, I worried too.
I entered the dark space with a candle, having received no answer to my knock. I found her sitting in a chair by her desk, her attention glued to an open drawer, but I doubted she saw anything beyond her troubled mind.
“Mrs. Cavanagh?”
Slowly she turned to face me, her eyes so still she reminded me of a doll. Though I’m certain her maid had arranged her hair beneath her cap first thing in the morning, her gnarled fingers had been hard at work, pulling and twisting. She bit at her lip, the muscles in her thin cheeks straining beneath the effort.
Finally she opened her mouth. “What is it?”
“Avery and Piers will be gone for a few days. I thought—”
“You needn’t concern yourself with me.” She scowled. “I require little these days.”
“I hoped you might allow me to read to you. I’ve missed our conversations.”
A breathy laugh stole across the room, but she didn’t object. I moved a chair beside her and took a seat where I was able to get a closer look. Clearly the last few weeks had been unbearable.
She ran her fingers back and forth across the handkerchief in her lap before her gaze snapped to mine. “Things are not always what they seem, are they?”
I hesitated to answer, lost as to what prompted her words. “No, they aren’t.”
“The world is a vicious place, my dear—liars, thieves, murderers—you could be sitting right next to one and not even know it.”
Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat. “What do you mean?”
Her head seemed to hang on her neck, bobbing as if caught up in a breeze. “I suggest you leave this house as soon as possible. You never, never should have come back here.” She turned to close the drawer as a shiver shuddered down her back.
The Vanishing at Loxby Manor Page 23