He lit one of the wall sconces. “No need, miss.”
She took another few steps away, then turned back, amazed at the play of shadows on the wall. Each of his movements was projected onto the wall as a long, spindly figure, stretching all the way up to the ceiling.
She shuddered again.
“Did someone arrive late tonight, after everyone went to bed?” she asked, trying not to stare at his Wellies, which were still dry.
“Not that I’m aware of, miss, and I believe I am aware of most everyone’s comings and goings,” he said pointedly, looking at her.
“Yes, I’m sure you are. However, there is rainwater in the front hall leading to the main stairs. You may want the maid to see to that, as well.”
“Thank you, miss.” He didn’t look happy about being told something was amiss in his well-run house.
“Good night again, Mr. Stanley.” She made a hasty retreat, pleased to return to her bedroom, which was still filled with lamplight and heat from the coals.
Shucking off her damp slippers and her wrap, she climbed into bed and snuggled beneath the covers.
Only then did she begin to wonder again about hearing a horse outside in the storm. As she drifted off to sleep, Eleanor had the absurd notion it was William Kidd looking for his long-lost treasure.
Gray was amazed to see what Eleanor had figured out by herself, almost exactly replicating the protagonist, William Legrand’s deciphering skills from Poe’s story The Gold Bug. When they met before breakfast and she excitedly drew out her work for his inspection, he nearly grabbed her to him and hugged her.
However, he did not want her to think every time they were alone he would paw at her. Though, truthfully, taking her in his arms was the first thing he thought of each time he saw her.
“If we can determine the next most common letter,” she proposed, “perhaps we can substitute it for the semi-colon characters in the puzzle.”
Considering her suggestion, he nodded. But it would be easier to take the route of Poe’s character, since Grayson knew it would lead to the puzzle’s solution.
“We might more easily use the most common word in the English language, and I’ve used it twice in this sentence already.”
She frowned, thinking a moment, then her lovely face broke out into an even lovelier smile. “The.”
“Yes, I believe so. Fill it in and see if your e’s line up.”
She checked, and they did. It seemed there were six instances of the. She clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling up at him.
“That was very clever of you, Grayson.”
He felt like a fraud since she’d worked out her clue on her own, whereas he had simply followed the text of The Gold Bug. Still, it was getting them closer to the outing he had planned, one which had caused him to go out in the storm to set up the night before.
He simply shrugged, not accepting her praise, nor denying it.
Eleanor wrote in as many t’s and h’s as they’d deciphered, not only for the word the, but in other places. When this led them to guess other words, they filled out more in the puzzle.
By the time they had solved nearly all of it, the scent of the morning meal had permeated the library, since they’d left the door appropriately open.
“Shall we stop for breakfast with the Angsley family so as not to appear rude?” he asked.
Eleanor agreed at once, and he considered it a good morning’s work. The puzzle wasn’t too easy for her, nor bogglingly difficult as to make her lose heart. Moreover, she seemed simply happy.
It delighted him to be the cause of her pleasure.
Gray was surprised a few minutes later when Eleanor asked those gathered at the table, “Does anyone know of a late-night visitor?”
How could she know he’d braved yet another autumn storm to put more of his birthday gift to her in place?
Luckily, no one knew anything.
Then Phoebe spoke up. She’d been sending him curious looks ever since Eleanor had met with her the day before to ensure the girl’s silence.
“I had a sewing lesson this morning with Mrs. O’Connor, and she would like both Eleanor and Grayson to go to her cottage today.”
He didn’t appreciate the way she emphasized linking their names together, especially when she followed it with a girlish giggle.
“Do you know what she wants?” he asked, keeping his tone entirely placid. “Is there anything my mother needs me to bring?”
“Only Eleanor,” Phoebe repeated.
Gray felt the heat rise in his face as he lowered his gaze to study the black pudding on his plate as if the sausages were fascinating.
“That’s fine,” Eleanor said. “I am free to go directly after we eat. Are you, Grayson?”
It still seemed strange, even exciting, to hear her use his given name, especially in company, but no one else seemed to think anything of it.
In any case, within the half hour, they were walking companionably toward the old granary lodge.
“I wonder if we shall hear from Turvey House today. I hope so,” she said.
If a messenger came, Grayson would try to intercept the man. After all, if a note arrived saying it was all right for Eleanor to leave, then his plans would be ruined. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to be worried over Margaret if her illness had passed.
“Who knows?” was all he could say, hoping he didn’t sound as if he didn’t care.
Knocking at his mother’s door, they waited only a few moments before it swung open. His mother paused and looked from him to Eleanor and back again, and then she sent them both a beaming smile.
What was she up to?
“Come in, my dears. Don’t you two look well! Phoebe passed along my message. What a good girl she is.”
“Good day, Mrs. O’Connor,” Eleanor said politely, as they stepped inside.
“Did you need something?” he asked, as his first thought was always if he could do something for her, although his mother rarely asked for anything.
“Actually, yes. I need those misplaced spectacles, or I need new ones. I was hoping you could help me look, or we could go into town and buy some new ones.”
But why Eleanor?
Without waiting for him to ask, his mother added, “If we go into town, as I fear we must, I thought Miss Eleanor would enjoy an outing, too.”
“Oh, I would,” she said. “Thank you for thinking of me. Shall we walk or ride?”
Gray laughed at her enthusiasm. “Shall we look for your old eyeglasses first, Mum?”
Perhaps as she’d known would happen, searching had done them no good, and before they knew it, the three of them were walking to the main house so Eleanor could get her mantle and reticule, and so Grayson could borrow a carriage, as they deemed the weather too dodgy for walking.
“I’ll ask Cook if she needs anything,” his mother said and disappeared in a different direction.
By the time he had a comfortable covered wagon harnessed to two ponies, Eleanor was standing out front.
“Where is my mother?” he asked her.
She shrugged, looking delightful, but then everything she did was delightful. If he didn’t get this expedition under way, they would lose another entire day of deciphering William Kidd’s fictional message, and she might have to leave before they reached the treasure.
“I’ll go find her,” he promised. “Can you hold the reins?”
“Of course,” she said, not waiting for assistance but climbing aboard the dickey beside him. She opened her gloved palms expectantly.
Placing the reins in her hands, he longed to also place a kiss on her lips. As it was, he couldn’t help leaning close so he could speak softly against the shell of her ear.
“When we return, we’ll go directly to the library. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Instantly, his head was filled with thoughts of what they’d last done in the library besides discuss codes and pirates. He had held her lush bottom in his hands.
Swal
lowing, his mouth went instantly dry, and his body tensed with anticipation of doing it again. As he drew back, her gaze dropped to his lips, and it took all his strength not to kiss her.
Climbing off the seat, he dashed through the front door, hoping his mother wasn’t standing on ceremony and walking around to the servants’ entrance rather than using the front door.
However, she was right before him in the foyer, standing close to Mr. Stanley, and they were deep in conversation.
She jumped back a step, startled when he entered.
“We’re ready,” Gray told her before nodding a greeting to the butler, who nodded back before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall.
In a few minutes, they were underway, and Gray felt a sense of satisfaction being with the two ladies whom he most admired and, dare he say, loved.
For the first time, he had to acknowledge how at the mere thought of Eleanor, the emotion flowing through him was love. His greatest wish was to cherish her, please her, and make her smile.
It was nearly two hours later, Eleanor and Grayson left his mother at her cottage with a new pair of spectacles, which she had promised not to misplace. As they crossed the back lawn, Eleanor looked up at him while he looked down at her, and they nearly started to run, both eager to return to the puzzle at last.
Seated in the library, Eleanor drew out her copy of the puzzle, while Grayson retrieved the original.
“Truly,” she remarked, “we are nearly done with the deciphering, yet we shall still need to figure out spacing and, perhaps, punctuation in order to make it legible.”
“We’ll see,” he said, and they got to work.
After a few minutes, he asked her, “Why don’t you read what we have?”
Why don’t you kiss me? she nearly said, then focused on the paper in front of her.
“Very well.” She smoothed it with her hands and read aloud, “‘A good glass in the bishop’s hostel in the devil’s seat twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by north main branch seventh limb east side shoot from the left eye of the death’s head a bee line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out.’”
Grayson leaned closer while she spoke, his broad shoulder pressing against hers. Perhaps it was his nearness, but the words together didn’t make sense. If she glanced at him, he would read the desire in her gaze. Nevertheless, after a hesitation, she did exactly that.
The passion blazing in his eyes took her breath away.
Did her own, plain brown eyes appear to glow like his?
Inevitably, he bent down and claimed her mouth with warm, firm lips. It seemed an eternity since their last kiss. If they weren’t seated side-by-side, she could imagine his arms going around her.
Still, he turned his body and cradled her face in his hands. Then tilting his head, he deepened the kiss. When his tongue sought and gained entrance between her lips, she moaned, her body beginning to sizzle with pleasurable tingling.
When he released her, she dragged in a deep breath to steady herself.
Where was she? What were they doing? Good God, the door was open!
All those thoughts flit through her head, until he spoke.
“Let’s try to break this up into sensical phrases.”
What?
“Oh, the puzzle. Yes.” With her heart beating double time from his proximity, she tried her best to focus.
“‘A good glass in the bishop’s hostel,’” she read again. “Is there a tavern nearby with that name? Perhaps ‘a good glass’ of ale is intended?”
“No,” he said, looking thoughtful.
Suddenly, she realized how ridiculous she’d been.
“In any case, these instructions could be for anywhere in the world. It was silly for me to think even for an instant that Captain Kidd had ever been here in Bedfordshire.”
His expression came over shocked.
Quietly, deadly serious, he whispered to her. “I thought you knew.”
The hair on the back of her neck raised in alarm at his tone.
Chapter Eleven
Eleanor swallowed. “Knew what?”
Grayson sat back, arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Local lore has always held that the pirate came back from one of his journeys before he went back to the colonies, and that he sailed as far as he could up the River Severn to Gloucester, and then was going overland to Dundee for one last visit home to Scotland.”
Eleanor thought for a moment. “He was going to Dundee by way of Bedford? Why on earth would he detour inland so far?”
Grayson shook his head, his lustrous, raven-black hair moving softly.
“Then you really haven’t ever heard our stories?”
“No,” she confessed.
“Why didn’t Beryl ever tell you?”
“I don’t know,” she said, becoming excited by his tone. “Or John, for that matter.”
Grayson nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think Cam ever believed the tale of Captain Kidd coming to Bedfordshire, so that’s no matter, but we’ve found proof he did, haven’t we? The so-called bishop’s hostel is just a big rock down by the river. And Kidd came this way because he was traveling with one of his pirate mates who lived in Brayfield, just down the road. They were going to pay off the man’s family, as pirates do.”
“Do they?” She had no knowledge of what pirates did, but maybe Grayson knew this from Beryl’s husband.
“Well, they did,” he insisted. “Legend has it they reached the River Great Ouse east of here, around Buckingham, and came all this way on a raft.”
“A raft?” Eleanor tried to picture a fierce pirate on a raft.
“It’s just the way the story goes, but they came with plenty of treasure. Unfortunately for them, some local man figured out who they were, and the sheriff was notified. Rumor has it they quickly buried whatever jewels and coins they had with them somewhere hereabouts. Then, instead of going to Dundee, which might have been expected, they left for America.”
He stared deeply into her eyes. “You know how it ended for the miserable pirate?”
She nodded, fascinated by the husky tone of his voice. A chill raced down her spine at the notion of the pirate having once been so close to Angsley Hall, even if it was a hundred and fifty years earlier.
Grayson continued, “Kidd was eventually captured and imprisoned in Boston before being sent back to England,” he paused a moment, then added, “for execution.”
Every child knew the story of how the rope broke the first time they tried to hang Captain Kidd, and how the executioner had to re-hang the pirate.
How awful! Eleanor imagined it would make for an angry ghost if ghosts were real. She had never believed in them, which was why reading Gothic novels didn’t bother her. Not only did she love to be thrilled and terrified, she liked how the narrator explained all the mysterious things, often with wind banging a door or rattling a shutter.
“And you know where this rock is?” Eleanor asked, staring at him, realizing she enjoyed simply looking at his fine features.
“You’re gaping at me,” he said.
“Am I?” She supposed her mouth had dropped open a little while she was admiring him.
He grinned. “That’s fine. I like when you look at me that way.”
She smiled back, then reminded him, “The rock?”
“Yes. I can take you there if you like. It’s not far from the tree we climbed.”
“We should figure out more before we go on an expedition. And we should take supplies.”
“Like a canteen of brandy?” he proposed.
She laughed. “No. Like shovels and picks. Maybe even a compass.”
“Good idea, but as you said, let’s figure out more.”
He seemed to be waiting for her to study the paper again, so she did, though Eleanor much preferred, at that moment, to look at him.
“If it’s a rock and not a tavern, then the glass must be other than one for drinking. A looking glass, for instance.”
“True.” She could think of nothing else.
“It must be some type of glass a pirate uses,” Grayson surmised, tapping his chin.
The word jumped suddenly into her mind. “A spyglass. You know, a telescope. That would be a useful thing to take to a rock, especially if one were then looking for something particular, such as treasure.”
Grayson rubbed his hands together. “I think you’re on to something. Pirates, all sailors for that matter, always have a spyglass, don’t they?”
Leaning close again, he read further. “I can help with the next part. The devil’s seat is another local term for a section of the bishop’s hostel rock that seems almost as if it were carved for sitting upon.”
Eleanor shook her head. “I can hardly believe Beryl never took me to the rock or mentioned such a thing as a devil’s seat.”
“Don’t be too hard on her. You are far more of the nature dweller than she is. She may never have climbed the rock in her whole life.”
Eleanor shrugged. She would let it go for now, but it seemed strange indeed her best friend had not mentioned Captain Kidd once, even after Beryl fell in love with her own pirate.
“I assume the rest of the numbers and directions tell us which way to point the telescope,” she surmised. “And thus, we will need a compass after all. I hope you can handle all that particular stuff. I am not keen on numbers and degrees and directions.”
He nodded solemnly. “I believe I can handle that.”
With sheer excitement, Eleanor clapped her hands spontaneously, then hoped he didn’t think her childish.
“I don’t believe we can go further with this puzzle,” she said, “not without going to the rock and sitting on the devil’s seat.” Even the very words were thrilling.
He nodded. “Apparently, we shall see a tree with at least seven branches.”
She thought a moment. “Trees change a lot in one hundred and fifty years.”
His eyes widened. “Yes, I hadn’t thought of that. However, if it is a big tree, then perhaps it will be easy to figure out. The branch will simply be longer and thicker.”
The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides Page 62
