The Vanishing at Loxby Manor

by Abigail Wilson

  My eyes widened.

  “We were never more shocked when that very person turned up dead.”

  “You mean it was Miles that Lord Kendal hired?”

  “So we all learned upon his death.”

  My mind raced to make sense of the connection. After all, who would want to kill the very person hired to sabotage the race? And how did any of this relate to Hugh or Seline? “Go on. What else happened the night Seline disappeared?”

  “We were all arguing about the importance of the race when Seline wandered into the circle and took a seat on the empty stone chair. For a moment I almost thought she was someone else.” He looked up at me. “But then she removed her hood. Avery sprang to his feet, ordering her back to the house, but she demanded to speak with Kendal first. We all knew of Kendal’s engagement. He’d told us at the start of the night. I thought that was why Seline had come. We all did. She pulled Kendal aside and they had one of their impassioned turn ups. The whole deuced affair was uncomfortable. I don’t even know what was said at the time, only Kendal stomped off angry.”

  “You didn’t know at the time?”

  “The meeting broke up; only we didn’t go home, not for a while. I met with Seline first. She was terribly upset. She thought she could blackmail Kendal into marrying her. Apparently this wasn’t the first time she’d eavesdropped on one of our meetings. She knew about the sabotage and was planning to use it against Kendal. But his engagement was already announced in the papers. He couldn’t draw back. Her hands were permanently tied, and she knew it.

  “I thought that would end things between them, that she’d finally fulfill the promise she made to me years ago. I started to tell her that, but we were interrupted by Tony. He needed to talk to me about the race. He had questions about whether we could trust this anonymous person Kendal had hired. We all had far too much riding on the outcome, you see.

  “Seline was so distraught, she wouldn’t go home. I told her to ride ahead to Rushridge and wait for me there. As soon as I was done with Tony, we could talk. She agreed—and I never saw her again.”

  “What about Avery? Did you see him go straight home?”

  “I cannot precisely recall. I did see him talk to Seline for a moment before she left. I assumed to encourage her to go home.”

  I glanced up at Priscilla as I considered Avery’s role in all this. He had plans to marry a lady his parents didn’t approve of, one with no money or connections. He had been open about the society in the beginning, but was he only telling us what he believed we already knew? Piers had been told about the Gormogons in Avery’s presence, and Seline was well aware of the nightly pursuits of the neighbors. I folded my hands in my lap, praying for wisdom. “I ask again, what was Avery’s loyalty pledge?”

  Hugh ran his hand down his face. “I don’t remember precisely, something about his mother.”

  “His mother?”

  He flicked his fingers in the air. “He saw something a long time ago. It didn’t really make any sense to me.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “All the loyalty pledges are hidden at Kinwich Abbey . . . in the faceless statue.”

  “Is that why you moved it?”

  “The statue was to remind us of our commitment and what we would personally sacrifice for a better world.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “This better world you speak of, what on earth did you hope to accomplish with this group?”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen the soldiers who’ve returned from war, desolate, starving. The Corn Laws will only further the devastation. When Kendal spoke of change in this country, I never knew the group had ultimate ties to France. We weren’t informed about that part, not until it was too late.” He glanced up. “And you should know they’ve got their sights on you as well.”

  “Me?” I gasped.

  “Well, not you exactly—your brother and his influence in Boston.”

  “Arthur? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a chemist. He has no time for political intrigue.”

  Hugh looked away. “Don’t underestimate them, Charity.”

  I bit my lip. “Will you come with me to Kinwich Abbey?”

  “Tonight?”

  “It has to be tonight. I don’t know who to trust, and I fear something terrible is going to happen. I need to see those loyalty pledges as soon as possible.”

  Chapter 29

  Mist had already begun forming in swirling clumps along the road, clinging to the base of the trees and gathering in the dips of the earth. The remains of Kinwich Abbey stood in a meadow, flanked on one side by the River Sternway, the perfect breeding ground for the ghostly dampened air.

  Having dismounted our horses, Hugh and I trudged our way through the tall grass, the disturbed water droplets clinging to our clothes with each step as the fog grew ever thicker. Hugh pointed ahead, saying something about the abbey, but the haze made over his words, muffling them, changing them, as if the hallowed ground demanded silence.

  The ancient stones looked like black daggers plunging out of the earth, wrapped neatly in a gray veil. Hugh stalked straight for the larger structure and I did my best to keep up. I couldn’t help but feel as if I was walking blind.

  The center of the crumbling cloisters was strangely free of the thick mist as the five rock seats remained perfectly placed in the semicircle I remembered. I called out to Hugh and he turned.

  “Five stone chairs?”

  He seemed a bit confused as he motioned to the ground. “Five members . . . Five seats.”

  “Then tell me, who is the fifth member?”

  He stopped midstride, inching around to face me. “You don’t know, do you?” There was a breath of wind that swirled between us, then he gave a lifeless shrug. “Surely you realize we’ve had several members beyond our little group of four. For example, there’s a benefactor who funds a great deal of the society. I’ve never even met the gentleman.” A visible shiver stole across his shoulders, and he motioned behind him. “The statue is just ahead. Let us be done with our nightly pursuit. I don’t like leaving Priscilla and my mother unprotected at the house.”

  I edged in near as we made our way to the remains of the abbey wall, the black depths of night inching closer, fed by the endless crumbs of my imagination. Then out of the gloom, the faceless statue took shape before us. The gruesome details of the monk’s tale came to mind as the vision I’d seen from my window gave its indeterminate glare an all-too-eerie life.

  Hugh offered me a harried look before sidling forward. One by one he used the broken stones and mossy outcroppings on the wall as a ladder of sorts to access the backside of the statue. He spoke over his shoulder as he went to work tugging on the stones. “There’s a secret compartment somewhere in here.”

  There was a moment of charged silence before I heard the scrape of stone, and he slid a fold of the statue’s cloak to the side. Almost in response, the night came alive, the leaves quivering in the darkness as the wind prowled its way into the remains of the abbey. I took a wild glance over my shoulder, my heart thundering, but the shadows remained motionless, the clumps of mist blurring the lines between the blackened stones and the ground.

  Hugh, too, seemed affected, his gaze scurrying about the remains of the abbey. He hesitated as he recovered a brown envelope and returned to my side.

  “Here it is.” It was strange how his voice sounded out of place among the fervent hush of nature. “I have to be honest, I was a little worried these wouldn’t be here, but we’ve all been faithful up until now.”

  I thought of the torn pages from the Gormogon book at Loxby’s library. “Wouldn’t destroying this information set you all free?”

  The feathered moonlight crept in and out of the clouds, revealing the scowl on Hugh’s face. “Unfortunately each of us told one other person—our secret bearer—and all was reported to the benefactor.”

  “Oh.” My attention fell back to the envelope. “Then go on and open it. We have to know what we are dealing with.”

 
He slanted me a look, his brown eyes like black marbles in the darkness. “Quite so.”

  His fingers shook as he broke the wax seal and drew out a stack of papers from the inside. “The first one is Tony’s.”

  “I fear we must read them all.”

  Hugh gave a painful nod, his eyes never leaving the paper. “It says here Tony fathered a child out of wedlock. The society paid the mother to disappear.”

  My heart ached. Could I really bear to hear the mistakes of my childhood friends?

  Hugh went on, “Lord Kendal is next.” His eyes widened as he read. “It seems it was he who forced the duel with Piers so long ago. Kendal knew just what would set Piers off and he planned the encounter for just such an end. After Piers failed to arrive, he went so far as to pay some men to spread the rumors about Piers’s cowardice.” He lowered the stack of papers. “Kendal gave Piers no choice but to leave town.”

  It felt like an iron ball dropped into my chest, and I nearly ripped the pledges from Hugh’s hand. “But why would he do that?”

  Hugh shook his head, a wraithlike swishing side to side. “Charity . . . I didn’t know. It simply says here he was compelled to do so.”

  Hugh shuffled on to the next. “This one’s mine.” He smashed his eyelids closed for a long second. “It’s no secret my family has had a gambling problem. My father managed to lead us up the River Tick five short years before his death.” He thrust out the paper. “Do you wish to read the details? I’ll not stop you from doing so, but I cannot.”

  “No, keep going.”

  “Here is Avery’s.”

  I held my breath as Hugh scanned the contents. “I still don’t understand the whole thing. It says Avery witnessed his mother go into the stables with his father on October 21, 1811. He heard a scream, and he entered to see his mother holding a large silver candlestick. Mr. Cavanagh had collapsed on the ground.”

  What?

  If I’d had a dry place to sit, I would have. Seline had told me her father was blinded by a horse, not by Mrs. Cavanagh. All my prior fears raged to the surface. Is this why she approached me, demanding to learn what Avery had revealed to the society? To protect herself? Was she intending to kill her husband? My mind raced for answers. Every one of the victims had been hit over the head—just like Mr. Cavanagh—but something didn’t add up. Avery was terribly close with his mother. If she was the cause of his father’s dreadful accident, why would he be trying to protect her?

  Hugh touched my arm. “What is it?”

  “I just don’t understand how all this relates to Seline’s murder, or Miles Lacy’s for that matter.”

  “Well, if you’re right, Seline wasn’t the target, and it was really an attempted murder on me. I was the one trying to leave the group, after all.” He started to refold the pledges when something caught my eye. “Wait, there’s more. You didn’t read those last few pages.”

  His mouth scrunched up at the corner. “It’s simply the record of donations to the secret society.” His arm fell lifeless at his side. “The proof I need to leave the society. Names, dates. It’s all here.” He shook the paper. “All the money listed is bound for a resistance group in France, one that has ambitions to release Napoleon from St. Helena.”

  I gasped. “Napoleon? But the Bourbons—”

  “Have been overturning most of the changes made by the French Revolution. As I came to find out but a few months ago, the Gormogons’ support is extending those changes, even here in Britain, not reversing them.”

  “But that’s treason.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But Avery—”

  “Was drawn in like the rest of us. Each one of us was presented a society that was formed to better all our lives, a sort of gentlemen’s club. We thought we were helping each other, not some grand foolish cause, one that included the utter betrayal of our country and everything we hold dear.”

  “I’d like to see the papers.” I held out my hand.

  He eyed my open palm for a moment. “I plan to take this to Whitehall straightaway.” He met my gaze, but his hand inched toward his pocket. “I don’t think anything will be gained by you seeing this.”

  “Oh, you don’t, do you? Whether you like it or not, I’m a part of this. Don’t you dare hide anything from me now. Hand it over.”

  Indecision deepened every line on his gaunt face. “There’s something else here besides the ledger I spoke of. It’s another loyalty pledge.”

  “Oh?” I lifted my eyebrows. “From who?”

  “The fifth member of our little group.”

  I extended my hand farther. “No more secrets, Hugh. They all stop here.”

  The paper felt cold, the air thin as Hugh slid the last remaining notes into my waiting fingers. It took a mere second before my focus narrowed on the name at the top.

  Arthur Halliwell.

  My stomach turned. How can this be?

  Hugh pawed at the ground with the toe of his boot. “Your brother was one of the charter members, Charity. Your parents were wise to flee the country and take you all to Ceylon. It gave Arthur the escape I can only dream of.”

  My thoughts rambled every direction. “So my parents knew . . . about all of this?”

  “No.” He held up his hand. “They only knew Arthur got himself in deep with French traitors. You see, they came across a secret letter from a contact of ours in France. Arthur fessed up and the decision was made to flee. Avery told me about everything when I made the decision to leave myself. As far as I know, your parents never knew about the Gormogons. Of course it was several years before I learned the truth in its entirety as well. The society has always been quite good at protecting itself. Your parents wouldn’t have believed we were all involved at any rate.”

  “I always wondered why we left for Ceylon so quickly, why my parents wouldn’t even discuss staying. It makes perfect sense now that Arthur chose to study and practice in America.”

  I examined my brother’s loyalty pledge one last time. “It says my grandfather was once a member of the society too.” My brooch—the one my grandmother had passed along to me—had originally belonged to him. Whether she knew what it represented or not, I could never guess.

  I took a deep breath and absently flipped to the next page in my hands. Hugh was right about the rest of it. The remaining pages were a ledger of donations, but as I read each line and moved to the next, a new, terrible inkling of fear sent the hairs on my arms jerking to attention. I’d seen the handwriting before. Not all of it, just the large first letter of each line. It was an elegant hand, made more so by the loops and curls.

  The same curls that had been in the letter Seline had supposedly written to her mother the night she eloped with Miles Lacy—the night she had really been murdered.

  “Who wrote all this?”

  “The ledger?”

  I nodded.

  “The benefactor handles all the money, all the threats. He’s the backbone of this society. I would assume it was written by his hand.”

  Was this the clue I’d been searching for all along? “And you don’t know who this benefactor is?”

  “His identity remains privileged information. Some of the earlier members know—Avery, Kendal. I’m fairly certain about them. Kendal’s usually the one to speak on his behalf.”

  The moment of Seline’s death came flooding into my mind as the words on the paper blurred before me. Hugh was certainly the intended target. He wanted out, had vital information about the organization, and meant to expose them. But how could this benefactor make such a horrendous mistake? The two riders would have had cloaks on, but Seline did not look all that much like Hugh.

  All at once, an image flashed into my mind. The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet. I covered my mouth with my trembling hand, at first unable to give voice to the one thought that made everything fall into place. What if the murderer confused Seline for Hugh because his eyesight was impaired?

  I reached out to steady myself on the uneven stone w
all, the truth materializing in my mind.

  Mr. Cavanagh had been a member of the society at one time. He’d asked me to enclose a letter to my brother, for goodness’ sake. He had access to Mrs. Cavanagh’s dressing room where he could have stashed the cloak . . . And those footsteps I’d heard the first night . . .

  Tap, whoosh. Tap, whoosh.

  They tiptoed back into my mind, and my eyes flashed wide open. Mr. Cavanagh utilized a cane to move about his room. I’d seen it the day I found him in his chair. If I was right, one way or another, he had been pulling the strings of everyone all along. I pressed my hand to my forehead. Moreover, he had inadvertently killed his own daughter.

  I shook my head in disbelief. Mr. Cavanagh was barely ambulatory, yes, but on a horse, there was no reason he couldn’t be deadly. He must have forged the note to cover his tracks. It was right around Seline’s disappearance when he had taken a bad turn—due to guilt?

  He would have carried on the charade with me to further distance himself from the brutal act. But he could not have managed to bury Seline’s body alone. He was far too weak for that. I let out a long breath. Mrs. Cavanagh must have figured it out too. She’d changed over the last few days, her actions fearful at best. Then today she was out of her mind. She told me to lock my door. There was only one other person in the house besides the servants.

  But what about Miles Lacy? He was in Mr. Cavanagh’s employ. Perhaps he had been utilized in another way. Miles changed his plans and departed the estate prematurely. Mr. Lacy said his nephew was scared. Miles suggested in the letter he was paid for his efforts. We’d all assumed his money came from the curricle race, but it could have come just as easily from Mr. Cavanagh.

  Hugh stuffed the papers back in the envelope. “I think it best if we—”

  A gunshot rent through the night air, echoing off the ancient wall. Hugh grasped my arm. “We’ve got to get out of here.”