Lord of the Abbey

by K. R. Richards

  “The books were there when we left the library this morning, Lady Sperring. I saw them with my own eyes. And Lady Rowena saw them.” Sir John hovered behind the lady, looking as puzzled as she. He patted Frances’ shoulder comfortingly.

  “Please excuse me for a moment, gentlemen, Aunt Frances.” Perplexed, Rowena rose. “This is all so odd. Perhaps someone did put them back upon the shelves but in the wrong place. I will take a look, Aunt Frances. There has to be an explanation! The books simply did not vanish.” She headed for the drawing room door.

  “Allow me to assist you, Lady Rowena.” Harry followed her from the room. Even though the situation was quite serious, his eyes remained on the irresistible view he currently enjoyed of Lady Rowena’s backside, following behind her as he was. The gentle sway of her hips beneath her skirts and no doubt numerous petticoats mesmerized him momentarily.

  Reluctantly, Harry changed the direction of his thoughts. Clearly, something strange was transpiring at Stonedown. Harry knew Frances, Lady Sperring, to be a strong, level-headed woman. She had ever possessed a calm-demeanor.

  Though he did not know Rowena Locke well, he deduced she possessed the same countenance as did her aunt. If Rowena seemed concerned, Harry guessed there was good reason. Rowena Locke seemed to be every bit as strong and level-headed as her aunt. Though slightly nervous in his and Lyon’s company at times. And, he had to admit, Rowena Locke was highly intelligent. The research she gathered and presented last evening rivaled that of any male scholar belonging to the Avalon Society. The more he learned of Lady Rowena, the more intrigued by her he became.

  Harry found the library at Stonedown to be quite remarkable. It appeared to be part of the old Great Hall of the original Tudor manor. The timbered ceilings were very high. The dark paneling, which was polished to a warm, rich gleam, rose about three-quarters up the tall walls. Many of the book cases were themselves ancient, massive and heavily carved. Coat-of-arms, family crests, and arrangements of ancient weapons decorated the plastered walls above the paneling. The fireplace was giant, taking nearly half the wall, and was no doubt original to the Manor as were the rest of the room’s furnishings. A gleaming suit of armor complete with an original long-axe stood in one corner. The room definitely had an Elizabethan and early Tudor flavor.

  He wasn’t certain, but Harry thought perhaps the library at Stonedown housed more books than that of his own collection he recently moved to Abbey Grange.

  He watched Rowena walk to a mammoth carved oak table in the center of the room which was flanked by heavy and ornate chairs, about ten in number. The dark wood was also highly polished and gleamed, warm and rich. The table and chairs were probably sixteenth century. It was very possible they were here in William Dulac’s time if they were original to the house. The chair backs and thick arms and legs were intricately carved lion’s heads, bodies, and tails descending into large ball and claw feet. Rowena’s fingertips rested on the dark wood as she looked at the table, bare save a burgundy and gold silk scarf upon which sat a heavy silver vase filled to bursting with cheery yellow daffodils.

  She then moved, with a quick swish of her skirts, to check several of the nearby bookcase shelves and glass front cabinets where empty slots denoted the original places where the missing books were previously removed. She looked to Harry, shaking her head slightly.

  “I don’t understand. The servants never touch the books. If I choose to leave some out on the table, they are always here when I return. What happened to them?” She frowned.

  Harry had an odd feeling. And as he learned from past experience, his odd feelings always meant something was not quite right. “We will find them, Lady Rowena.” He reassured her. “Do you remember the titles?”

  “Yes. I think I do, sir.” Rowena nodded.

  “I think we can conduct a preliminary search for a secret chamber without the books. After we finish we can return to the library. I will help you search the shelves for the missing books. As you said earlier, perhaps someone put them back in the wrong place.” He decided he did not like the Angel’s delicate features marred by worry. She looked very concerned. He felt the need to lighten her mood. “I must confess. I am exceedingly jealous of you, Lady Rowena. I am quite certain your library is finer than mine. I never thought such a thing possible!”

  She laughed then. It was a delicate tinkling sound. “I suppose there is no need for me to mention that I have a weakness for books.”

  “I do not consider a love of books a weakness, Lady Rowena. Improving the mind is a definite strength in my opinion.” They both heard the whistling of wind outside. Looking across the room through a set of tall, wide lancet windows Harry noted the sky was indeed growing darker.

  “Another spring storm, perhaps?” Harry started to move across the room to look more closely out the mullioned windows. The arresting sight of the Tor directly behind the Manor captured his attention.

  A whoosh of wind entered the room then. With the sudden gust came the errant bang of a loose window at the far side of the library. One set of drapes billowed out as air gushed in from outside. Subsequently, a small vase was knocked off a nearby glass-fronted cabinet which held ancient tomes. The metal vessel clanked as it hit the polished oak floor.

  “Why on earth is a window open in here?” Rowena asked in puzzlement. The alarm in her voice was evident as she marched immediately over to check the window. Harry followed her. She stopped momentarily, bending to retrieve the vase. Which action afforded Harry a delightful view of the outline of her very shapely derrière. Unaware of where Harry’s attention was drawn, Rowena straightened and set about capturing the wildly flapping drapes. “My goodness. The catch is broken. Gone actually!” Rowena froze in place while reaching out to secure the window. Could a gust of wind loosen the catch? Break it?

  She looked to Harry as he moved beside her and tried to pull the window closed, but without a catch, it was near impossible. He pushed it wide open and leaned over, looking outside. The broken catch was lying atop the beds still heavily covered with winter mulch. And there were footprints. Fresh footprints. Several sets of footprints in the damp mulch, some leading up to the window, and some away from it. There was also a book lying open, face up, its pages turning wildly in the blowing wind.

  Rowena saw the book and foot prints as well, for she was beside him, leaning over to look. Her hip brushed his as she struggled to lean further. Harry righted her with a quick hand around her slender arm when she leaned too far out and momentarily lost her balance. Rowena’s pale blue eyes were wide, her expression serious as she looked to him.

  “Someone broke in to the library? Lord Glaston, do you think someone purposely forced their way in to the library to take the books?”

  “Lady Rowena, I won’t lie to you, it does appear that is exactly what has happened. At least it appears so at this moment.” Harry leaned as far out as he was able. Reaching down carefully he stretched and grasped the closest corner of the book. The tome was damp and soiled.

  Rowena took the book, flipping it over to read the title. It was The History of the Dulacs of Glastonbury by one John Dulac. “I must get Hanford to bring someone to fix the lock on the window immediately. And have one of the maids try to clean and dry the book as best as can be done. We must apprise Aunt Frances and Sir John of the situation.” Rowena turned to look at Harry.

  “I will accompany you, Lady Rowena. Once you are safe in the company of your aunt, Lyon and I shall look about the house and grounds.”

  “Thank you. I do so appreciate that, Lord Glaston. It will be a great relief to me.” Rowena touched his arm lightly in an appreciative gesture. She nearly jumped from the jolt of electricity that shot through her fingers when they made contact with his arm. Instinctively she looked up. She saw that his brown eyes seemed somehow darker, more intense if it were possible.

  “Call me Harry, please, Lady Rowena,” his voice was deeper than he intended. Harry was somewhat in shock the way his body reacted to the slight brush of he
r hand upon his arm. Never before had he lusted after a woman from so slight and innocent a touch.

  “Very well. Thank you, Harry. This is all so disconcerting. I am so relieved that you and Lyon will check the house and grounds. I can’t imagine what this is all about.”

  Rowena sighed deeply. It was frightening to think someone broke into the library. Her library! The room she spent a vast amount of time in. At the same time it angered her. Yet, it was comforting to know Harry Bellingham was here. And his friend. But mostly the presence of Harry Bellingham comforted her. Rowena had no idea why. She felt the warmth radiating from his free hand momentarily covering hers where it rested on his arm in what she guessed to be a gesture to reassure her. The sensation of his touch, though brief sent small shivers through her. Once again she scolded herself for her girlish, nay in truth, her more womanly thoughts. The thoughts of a wanton, actually.

  After informing Hanford about the window and the possible theft, the house came alive with frenzied activity. Mrs. Brimble took the book herself and would see to its immediate salvation. Servants rushed about. The entire staff, inside and out, was summoned to come to the large entrance hall. It was Harry’s idea for Hanford to question the servants in case one of them saw an intruder in the library, another area of the house or on the grounds.

  When she entered the drawing room Rowena spoke calmly, “Aunt Frances. Sir John. Someone has broken into the library. We are left to think the books were stolen. The window catch was broken off and there are footprints outside the window in the garden.”

  “Oh my heavens!” Frances was obviously distressed. “Why? Why would someone steal books about the Dulacs and Dulac Manor? The history of Glastonbury in the fifteenth and sixteenth century? And they were books about our family, Rowena. Now they are gone. That is our history.” Frances’ eyes misted slightly at the comprehension of such a loss.

  “We did find The History of the Dulacs of Glastonbury, Aunt Frances. It was dropped right outside the window. It was soiled and wet, but Mrs. Brimble thinks she can save it,” Rowena offered hoping to alleviate some of her aunt’s distress.

  “Sir John, will you stay with the ladies? Lyon and I intend to search the house and grounds.” Harry motioned for Lyon to follow him.

  “Of course, Harry.” Sir John nodded to Lord Glaston.

  It was at that moment that Hanford entered the drawing room and informed them that Seth, one of the stable lads, was coshed on the head as he chased a man he spotted running from the direction of the house. Seth did not recognize the man, but thought him suspicious because he continued to run after being called to. The apparent thief kept looking back toward the house, and carried a bulky bundle under his arm as he ran. Seth gave chase. When he neared the culprit, and got close enough to try and overtake him, the man turned and flung a fist-sized stone at Seth’s head. Dazed and bleeding, Seth slowed down when the blood ran into his eyes, limiting his vision. Mrs. Brimble herself was tending to Seth and felt a surgeon should be called.

  Rowena told Hanford to send for Doctor Price at once. She assured him she would be in momentarily to see about the lad.

  Harry and Lyon, talking amongst themselves, decided to question Seth before going outside. They prepared once again to leave the drawing room when a tall man with dark hair strolled calmly into the room. He was dressed entirely in black save for the pristine white of his shirt and cravat. He carried a sturdy satchel in one hand. “What the devil is going on? It appears the house is in uproar.” He looked first at Harry, then Lyon through his spectacles.

  A shorter man with sandy hair entered behind the first.

  Rowena saw Aunt Frances was too stunned to speak. No doubt she was in shock with the strange happenings of the afternoon thus far. And apparently, as Rowena looked upon the two strangers in her drawing room, there were more odd things unfolding. “We are in uproar, sir.” Rowena addressed the gentleman, for the fine cut of both men’s clothing deemed they were indeed gentlemen. She was about to question who they might be when Harry spoke.

  “Wincanton. Charlie! I’m so glad you’re here. We can use the help. There has been a break-in. The books that we needed to look for the secret chamber I wrote to you about were stolen. A stable lad was clobbered in the head when the man was seen running past the stables. Lyon and I were just about to question the lad then search the house and grounds.”

  “The servants were being questioned when we came in, Harry. I’ll listen in, if you like,” the sandy-haired man offered helpfully.

  “Thank you, Charlie. That will help.”

  “Afterward, I shall search the house for you, Harry. You and Lyon need to take to the grounds now. It looks about to rain again.” The sandy-haired man, whom Harry called Charlie, left the room.

  The dark-haired, mysterious man whom Rowena now guessed to be Lord Wincanton waved Harry and Lyon away with his hand. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll stay with the ladies and um…”

  “Sir John Nunn.” Sir John stepped forward to greet the new guest.

  “Yes, I’ll stay with the ladies and Sir John,” the dark- haired man said matter-of-factly. He watched Harry and Lyon leave the room.

  “Micah Wychcombe. Wincanton. Please, call me Micah. I prefer it over formality.” The man left his satchel by the door. He moved to the sitting area.

  Lord Wincanton was introduced to the ladies by Sir John. “Please, do sit down. Tell me what happened.”

  After Rowena, Frances, and Sir John enlightened Wincanton in turns, he requested to be taken to the library. The three joined him.

  Micah studied the window very carefully. He repeatedly opened the mullioned panel then pulled it closed by placing his hand underneath. He leaned very far out to study the foot prints and the area surrounding them. He adjusted his spectacles once or twice to have a better look.

  “I say,” he muttered. He moved back toward the table, then pausing, he studied the window from a distance. “Hmm?” Micah Wychcombe stood for a moment, seemingly deep in thought as he pulled on his chin. He returned to the window, turning to glance back toward the table. “Interesting.”

  Rowena and her aunt exchanged curious glances.

  He opened the window wide and called out loudly, “Harry!” He motioned for his friend, who must have been walking through the garden beyond, to come closer.

  “Micah?” Harry’s voice entered the room from the open window.

  “Stand here for a few moments. I want to see if I can see you and from what angles of the room. And I want to know exactly what you can see from where you stand. Can you step around the foot prints, please. We don’t want to damage them until I’ve the chance to examine them closer.”

  “Very well, Micah.”

  Rowena hid a small smile. There was a hint of annoyance in Harry Bellingham’s tone.

  “Pay attention to what parts of the room you can see from that angle, Harry.”

  “Of course, Micah,” Harry uttered dryly.

  Letting the window hang loose, Lord Wincanton left Harry, then proceeded to walk all around the large library. He returned to the window. Swung it open. “What parts of the library could you best see from where you stand, Harry?”

  “The table. The far side of the room, and the room directly in front of me in the area of this window.”

  “Can you see the ladies and Sir John?”

  “I see Lady Rowena, but not Lady Sperring. I only see half of Sir John,” Harry provided.

  “So, you can see pretty much everything in the room except the far corner and along this wall, the same wall as the window. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, Micah. I believe that was what I said,” Harry answered.

  “The only time I can see you particularly well, Harry, is when I’m here in this part of the room near the window, and only slightly from the other side of the room. By the foot prints, our perpetrator stood nearly where you are and watched the room, but it appears he moved over there to the other side of the window to avoid being seen at some point. Someone must
have entered the room and walked up near where I stand, in this general area, where there was a risk he might be seen.”

  Micah turned to Lady Rowena, “Lady Rowena, can you see Harry from where you stand?” He stepped far back from the window to allow Rowena an unobstructed view.

  “I can barely see him from this angle, sir. Due to his dark coat, the grayness of the overcast day, and the mullioned windows I can honestly say I don’t think I would notice him standing there unless I was looking for him or he moved quite abruptly.” Rowena now understood why Harry sent for Lord Wincanton. He turned out to be an exceedingly helpful addition to their party. Even if he was a trifle unique in character.

  Micah nodded. “Precisely what I thought.”

  “Are you saying that someone watched as we were in the library earlier, Micah?” Frances queried, remembering that he preferred to be called by the familiar.