I strong-armed Snowdrop against my chest and turned to leave. My feet slid across the floor as I made my way to the door, but I never looked back toward Mr. Cavanagh’s open doorway.
“What do you think you are doing?”
Breathless, I turned into the hollow gaze of Mr. Cavanagh’s night nurse, standing in the shadows of the doorway.
It took me a full second to regain my heartbeat as well as my addled thoughts. “I came to retrieve the cat. The poor dear had gone and got herself trapped in here. I’m on my way out with her now.”
“Shhh.” The nurse pointed behind her. “You’ll wake him.” The quiver in her voice was unmistakable.
I nodded, anxious to make my escape, when I heard a grunt from inside the room. “Is that you, Miss Halliwell?”
I closed my eyes for a brief second, wishing I could sink into the floor. Slowly I set Snowdrop on the ground. “Yes, Mr. Cavanagh. I didn’t mean to wake you.” I angled around the nurse just enough to see the darkened figure move on the bed. His hand was at his hair, smoothing and combing.
I took a step back. “Please excuse me for disturbing your sleep. I’ll be on my way at once.”
“Don’t disappear, not yet at least. I have something to say to you.” His head pivoted in the darkness, his voice directed at his nurse. “You may leave us until I call for you.”
I watched the nurse scuttle away from the door. Then I caught a flutter in the moonlight, like Mr. Cavanagh had flicked his hands in the air.
“Come closer.” His voice was demanding but not unkind.
Confusion weighed my steps as I approached the bed. Though Mr. Cavanagh and I had grown close over the past few weeks, I swallowed hard.
I moved in the darkness until my thighs pressed against the soft edge of the bed, my hand retreating to the post. “It was abominable for me to wake you this way.”
He cleared his throat. “If it eases your conscience, I do understand why. We all know Mrs. Cavanagh cannot abide cats.”
I could hear Mrs. Cavanagh in the next room and the hairs on my arm pinged to attention.
Mr. Cavanagh cleared his throat. “Tell me, did you write to your brother in America?”
For a moment I scrambled for words. “Yes, of course.”
“And included my letter? When was it sent?”
My eyes still trained on the connecting room, I nodded. “Yes. Weeks ago.”
“Good, I—”
The sound of the door cut off Mr. Cavanagh’s sentence and we both turned to see Mrs. Cavanagh holding a candle that illuminated her startled face. “Why, Miss Halliwell . . .”
I shook my head as I clutched my chest. “Please, excuse my intrusion. I heard your cat and it brought me into the connecting room. I didn’t mean to wake either of you. I shall be on my way at once.”
Her gaze crept from me to Mr. Cavanagh then back to me, like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey. “I don’t see any cat.”
I glanced at the floor around my feet. “Oh dear. She must have run off.”
Mrs. Cavanagh tilted her head. “Just so.” She watched me a moment, the candlelight flickering in her narrow eyes. “Unable to sleep?”
I wished I could see Mr. Cavanagh’s face in the shadows of the bed, but he’d slipped into the clutches of darkness.
“Yes, I . . .”
Her tone turned accusatory. “I think it best you return to you room.”
My skin tingled. “I understand.”
A tight smile creased her lips.
For a breathless moment I considered laying my suspicions before Mr. Cavanagh, but I had no proof of Mrs. Cavanagh’s involvement, and my presumptions stemmed from nothing more than an article of clothing and a feeling that was growing by the second.
* * *
I locked my door that night, plagued by fear and questions surrounding Mrs. Cavanagh. Could she be the fifth member of the secret society? Was she playing a deep game? Those thoughts, coupled with anxiety for Piers, kept me from sleeping.
Morning, however, brought its own problems. Baker burst into the drawing room, a salver in his hand. “This just came for you, Miss.”
I slipped the letter from the silver platter with a great deal of trepidation. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, and for whatever reason, that frightened me. “Thank you, Baker.”
I waited for him to leave before breaking the wax seal.
Miss Halliwell,
Rest assured, Piers Cavanagh is alive and well, but he did take a ball to the right shoulder, inhibiting him from writing this very letter. The doctor says it was a clean wound and he should recover nicely, but he shall be laid up here in Eastward for a bit. Hugh Daunt has offered his services should you need anything in the days to come as he is returning to Rushridge and will deliver this letter to Loxby on his way home.
Your servant,
Tony Shaw
I folded the letter closed, my heart constricting. If Piers was too injured to ride home, it was more than a simple wound. Tony had no doubt written me the letter to belay my fears, but nothing could stop them now, not until I laid eyes on Piers once again. All this time I’d been pushing him away, and now I couldn’t imagine life without him in it.
Chapter 28
I didn’t see one member of the Cavanagh family the rest of the day. That is, until I stumbled upon Mrs. Cavanagh on my way to bed.
She’d stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Care to join me in the kitchen for a bite to eat?”
I touched my forehead, dread climbing my arms. “I find I’m a bit tired this evening.”
She didn’t move. “I have something I wish to say to you.” Then she glanced behind her, her fingers wrapping tightly about the banister. “But not here.”
One by one my muscles tensed as my thoughts dropped into a muddle of fear and expectation. How could I refuse my host? But should I take one solitary step with a possible murderer? Of course the servants were only one scream away. What could Mrs. Cavanagh really do? And I’d wonder all night what she wanted to say to me if I didn’t find out.
Slowly I nodded before following her into the servants’ wing, my steps tentative at best.
The kitchens were dark beyond the glow of the solitary candle in Mrs. Cavanagh’s unsteady hand. She went to work at once scrounging up some pastries from the larder and settled in across from me at a long wooden table.
Once seated she waited for me to take a bite before hunching over her own plate, her fingers fidgety with her pastry. “I’d like you to speak to Avery and straightaway.”
“Avery?” I’m not certain what I expected her to say, ensconced as we were beneath the veil of secrecy and darkness, but it definitely didn’t involve him.
Her movements were edgy in the candlelight, and she was quick to glare over her shoulder. “He hasn’t been speaking to me of late, and I had a terrible shock today. I dare not say anymore, but I have to know what he offered the society.”
I, too, took a sideways look at the door. “What do you mean?”
Her hand quivered as she ran her fingers across her forehead. “Everything has changed now. His pledge was not in the book like those of the other members from before.”
Ice enfolded my heart. “You’re talking of the Gormogons.” So it was Mrs. Cavanagh who had the book.
Her gaze shot to mine. “I have to know before I do anything, before it’s too late.” Her chest caved in with each breath. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you to leave this house. Why didn’t you do so when you had the chance?” She shook her head. “He’ll kill again . . . and again. Whatever it takes to achieve the power he so desperately wants. And you’ve learned far too much already, my dear.”
“He, who?” Avery?
A sound echoed from somewhere beyond the walls, and she flew to her feet. “We haven’t time. Promise me you will go to Avery as soon as he arrives back at Rushridge and demand the truth.” She looked around frantically. “The walls have ears, my dear, and the darkness hides many things. I would ad
vise you to head to the village, but it is getting late . . . very late indeed.” Her voice shook. “I fear something terrible might happen before morning. It would be too easy, far too easy. Please be careful. Go to your room at once and lock your door. I don’t know what I would tell your mother should something happen.”
Piers had said his mother’s mind might be slipping, but this flurry of ideas was full-on madness. How could I believe anything she said? Particularly when all the signs pointed to some level of her involvement in Seline’s death. I’d found the cloak in her dressing room of all places. And this new business about Avery—what a dilemma. He would not take kindly to my interference, nor feel at ease to tell me anything about what he offered the society.
“I shall return to my room as well.” Her voice sounded sickly sweet as she grasped the candleholder. “These things are out of our control, after all. What right do we have to tempt fate?”
I watched as Mrs. Cavanagh slunk out the kitchen door, my nerves coiled like springs throughout my body.
I sat stock-still in the dreariness of the kitchens, afraid to think, afraid to move. Whoever had killed Seline and Miles was intimately involved with the Cavanagh family. That was certain. Finding the cloak in Mrs. Cavanagh’s room had proved that.
And if Mrs. Cavanagh was to be believed, here I was, alone in the depths of the grand Loxby Manor with Piers miles away—a perfect target, but for whom? And why?
Mrs. Cavanagh had focused in on Avery’s offering to the society. If I remembered correctly, Tony had detailed the process when we visited him. The book Piers and I had found in the library had done so as well. At least now I knew where the book had gone. I glanced at the door. I had no intention of stepping one foot inside Mrs. Cavanagh’s room to retrieve it. I thought back hard, reliving as best I could Tony’s conversation.
A loyalty pledge—that’s what he’d called it. Any new member to the Gormogons was forced to relinquish condemning information to join, which would be kept by the society as collateral. My eyes widened. Why would Mrs. Cavanagh want to know what Avery had turned over to the group?
Was that the piece of information we’d been missing?
The letter we discovered in Lord Kendal’s pocket mentioned something similar in regard to him. Whoever wrote the note held Kendal’s pledge. I tapped my fingers on the table. Who held Avery’s pledge?
The conversation at Tony’s estate returned to my mind. Tony had said Avery held his pledge and Kendal had Hugh’s, thus Hugh might very well have Avery’s information.
My eyes widened as the depths of Loxby Manor grew cold around me. What if Mrs. Cavanagh was right and I was indeed in danger? Except for a few servants, I was wholly unprotected. How easy it would be for someone to slip into the house.
Tingles crawled across my skin as the dark corners of the kitchen grew darker still. My gaze darted from one gloomy corner to the next, my imagination filling in the gaps where my eyes could not, and all the while the unnatural feeling that I was not alone scaled its way up my neck.
I stood.
Rushridge was not so very far and Priscilla would be there to assist me, to keep me safe until Piers and Avery returned from the duel.
But I dare not tell anyone at Loxby of my plans. I would have to creep my way to the stables alone.
Alone.
The word hung like a vicious wraith in the darkness, leering at me from the shadows. The road to Rushridge would not be an easy one, but Loxby Manor was no refuge. I tightened my fists and raised my chin. I could do this. I needed to do this.
My steps were small and my heart sought to betray me, but I made my way to the side door and swung it open nonetheless, breathing in the journey I had before me.
The night was warm but eerily still, every sound begging to be heard and contemplated. I stood on the doorstep for several seconds, scanning the surrounding wilderness. Life had indeed made me cautious, but I wouldn’t let it strangle me, not anymore.
I pulled the door closed behind me and scurried down the path to the stables where I found Jewel waiting for me in her crib, her stoic strength a balm to my pounding reservations. I rushed through the harness room, readied Jewel in relative silence, and led her carefully from her stall.
A mounting block lay near the door and I utilized it to swing into the sidesaddle. I kept her to a walk until we’d departed the paddocks and crossed the open yard. Loxby Manor and all its questions and fear melted into the darkness behind me.
Centered firmly on the road to Rushridge, I spurred Jewel forward. Her powerful muscles contracted beneath my legs, the sudden and desperate surge of exhilaration rushing over me like the wind. For a breathless second I was free, flying through the trees.
Jewel’s stride widened as we hit level ground, her gallop strengthening with each powerful step. The sliver of moon proved a poor guide on the open road, and I was forced to trust her instincts.
The minutes passed and the familiar open landscape drifted away. Jewel didn’t slow till the gates of Rushridge materialized in the gloom ahead, the black iron bars glinting in the moonlight. I couldn’t help but stare down at the side of the road where Seline’s body had lain in the shallow grave for weeks. There was little trace of the precious life that had been there, a bit of disturbed earth, nothing more, but I would never forget what had happened there.
Having passed through the gates, I rounded the front drive and scrambled from Jewel’s back at the last second, only to nearly lose my footing as I hit the ground. I looked up at the house, relieved to see a light on in one of the ground-floor rooms. I prayed Hugh and Priscilla were still awake as I looped Jewel’s reins over an iron post.
I mounted the stone steps and descended on the front door of Rushridge, pounding out a knock against the heavy wood.
Silence.
With a tight fist, I tried again, my hand aching with each thrust.
Finally the door cracked open an inch to reveal the beady eyes of the Daunt’s elderly butler.
I stepped into the beam of candlelight extending beyond the door. “I must see Hugh Daunt at once.”
The butler angled his chin, but he must have recognized me from my earlier visit, for he swung the door wide and bade me to enter.
I raced into the open hall, only to catch sight of Priscilla in the drawing room doorway. I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Priscilla.”
Her eyes widened. “Charity, you look a fright. Whatever are you doing here at such an hour?”
It took me a moment to catch my breath. My gown was rumpled from the ride and I tugged it into place. “I must speak with your brother. Is he able to see me?”
She stole a peek over her shoulder, then took a breath, lengthy and determined. “He’s in the drawing room, but he’s had a difficult time this afternoon.”
I crossed the carpet to grasp her hand. “I wish I could come another time, but this is urgent.”
Her face fell. “You may find him a bit strained at present.” At length she motioned me to precede her into the drawing room.
Entering as bade, I found Hugh beneath a blanket in a chair near the fire, his gaze fixed on the window. Though I’d raced from Loxby as if chased by an animal, all of a sudden everything slowed, my thoughts, my steps. It was as if I approached a stranger, one I should be afraid of. He wore a grimace, but it wasn’t the disconsolate mood that transformed my own. It was his eyes. I could not see Hugh in them. No wonder Priscilla had been worried.
I took a seat at his side. “Oh, Hugh.”
He barely gave me a glance, his words flippant. “You mustn’t worry. Piers is a Cavanagh. He’ll pull though.”
His monotone voice sent a fresh wave of ice into my chest. “Though I’m glad to hear that Piers will recover, I’ve come about something else entirely. I need to talk to you about the Gormogons.”
His eyes flashed and he coughed as he shifted to face me. Priscilla raced over with a glass of water, casting me a sharp glare. I waited a moment for Hugh to regain his bearings, but I wouldn
’t be silenced, not now. “Am I right in guessing that you hold Avery Cavanagh’s loyalty pledge?”
His eyes closed. “Those blasted pledges.” His fingers curled into a fist on the armrest. “What does it matter now? I wanted nothing more than to escape the group, to expose the man responsible, but I’ll never be able to get out now. Believe me, I never joined to become a traitor to my country. What a fool I’ve been—we’ve all been.” His voice grew cold. “We’ve been played like a curst stack of cards.”
“Treason?” I touched my throat, shocked at these revelations. “And you made plans to get out of the secret society?”
His fingers came to life on the armrest, pushing and pulling the fabric. “For months now. I’d rather die than directly finance revolutionaries in France.”
My head swam. Wouldn’t Avery feel the same way? “Did any of the members know of your intentions?”
“Avery did, but I swore him to secrecy.” Hugh lowered his head into his hands. “I was waiting for the payout from the curricle race to finally make my exit. I had it all arranged. My loyalty pledge involved the state of my affairs. If I could have overcome that hurdle, I might have come about.”
I sat very still. The motive for murder I’d been looking for was now abundantly clear. When the person killed Seline by mistake, his intention must have been to silence Hugh.
“Can you tell me again everything that happened that night at Kinwich Abbey?”
His shoulders slumped. “Why does it matter now? She’s gone forever.”
“Piers and I believe the murderer had a different target in mind. Please, I need to hear what happened that night from your perspective.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I was the last to arrive. Kendal was already getting nervous. He wanted to know how far we were willing to go to ensure the race went in his favor. Avery was trying to calm him down. He told Avery he’d hired someone he trusted not only to tamper with the other driver’s curricle but to ensure his victory as well.”
The Vanishing at Loxby Manor Page 25