Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress

by Jane Ashford

  “Your confidence encourages me.” His eyes were warm.

  As they drove home, later that afternoon, Joanna was thoughtful. Her brother chattered on and on about the treasure, what a fine chap Erland was for letting them help look for it, and what he meant to do with the share that Erland would surely give him. Joanna listened with half an ear. She was thinking about Erland also, but not in the same terms. She was considering how likeable he was in spite of his lack of polish and the airs and graces she had always thought indispensable in a man. She contrasted him in her mind with Sir Rollin Denby, whom she had seen this same day. It was really much easier to talk to Mr. Erland, and more fun, too. He did not make her feel terribly young and blundering, nor did he laugh at her.

  Instead, they had laughed together several times this afternoon, over some of the absurdities in the old books. Joanna was beginning to wonder if there had not been more in what Constance had said than she had realized at the time. Not that Mr. Erland would ever outshine Sir Rollin, she added to herself. The latter would always be the more exciting and dazzling companion. But their new neighbor might turn out to be an easier friend, more like a brother perhaps. Joanna wrinkled her nose. Yet another brother!

  When they got home at five, the family was having tea in the drawing room and Frederick and Joanna joined them. Their mother looked surprised when she heard where they had been, and she frowned at their disheveled appearance, but she made no objection. Mr. Rowntree was engrossed in telling his wife of the morning’s digging. Gerald was preparing to ride back to Oxford, and Joanna was amazed when he stopped to sit beside her before he went out.

  “I wanted to speak with you, Joanna,” he said.

  She looked at him; here was a new start.

  Gerald looked at his hands. “It is rather awkward—I don’t know quite how to begin.”

  Joanna frowned, still more amazed. Then, a thought came to her. Did Gerald want to talk of Constance?

  But he blurted, “It is that man Denby.”

  “Sir Rollin?”

  Gerald nodded, looking down again. “The thing is, Joanna, one of the fellows with us this morning lives in London and knows of Denby. It appears, that is, it is pretty well known that he is, a, well, an ugly customer.”

  Joanna’s surprise and amusement at seeing her self-absorbed brother grope for words gave way to a spark of resentment. “And so?” she replied.

  “Dash it, Joanna, you must see what I’m driving at. I’m trying to drop a word in your ear, a warning, you know. Denby’s just not, well, the sort of man you should go about with.”

  “Do you mean he is a rake?” said Joanna baldly, hoping to shock him into silence. What right had Gerald, who had practically ignored her for years, to dictate whom she should see?

  But Gerald looked relieved. “That’s it. Carstairs says it’s well known. Mothers keep their girls away from him. He’s been involved in all sorts of havey-cavey turn-ups. Seems to care for nothing and nobody, including himself.”

  With a small smile, Joanna permitted herself to wonder if this were still true. “You’re telling me to stay away from him?” she asked belligerently.

  “Oh, I haven’t any right to do that,” said her brother hastily. He seemed quite embarrassed by his unaccustomed venture into her affairs. “But Papa won’t notice, you know, and Mother may not have heard about him, so I thought I’d just speak to you. You’re a sensible little puss when you want to be, Joanna. You’ll know what to do.”

  Though she was still angry with him for his interference, such praise from Gerald silenced Joanna. “Th-thank you,” she murmured at last.

  “Right.” He stood. “I’ve got to go.” He took his leave of the family and strode out, already forgetting Sir Rollin and Joanna.

  The girl sat still for several minutes. She had no intention of paying any heed to Gerald’s strictures, but she was amazed that he had bothered to make them. And Gerald, Gerald had called her a sensible little puss! Where would it end?

  Twelve

  When Joanna came down to breakfast the following day, she found her father very upset.

  “Boys!” he was saying, in outraged accents, to her mother. “That is what Erland thinks, and I suppose he is right. It is intolerable, Emma. How can one approach a problem scientifically if one is subject to such interference. Boys indeed! Would that I knew who it was; I should show them interference.”

  “Most vexatious,” murmured Mrs. Rowntree.

  “What is it?” asked Joanna. “Has something happened?”

  “Something?” sputtered her father. “I should say it has. Someone got into the ruins of the Abbey last night, after we had gone. Just at the church, where we were to work today. A whole wall damaged, nearly falling down! Erland heard the crash from the house last night, and he frightened the rascals off when he came out to see what was toward. But this is intolerable. I cannot work with such intrusions.”

  “Well, well, George,” put in Mrs. Rowntree, “you have ensured that it will not happen again.”

  A look of satisfaction crossed Mr. Rowntree’s face, and he laughed shortly. “I have that. Young Carstairs’ mastiff will see that there are no more trespassers, boys or not.”

  During this conversation, a suspicion had been growing in Joanna’s mind, and when at this moment the door opened and her brother Frederick came in, she turned to glare at him angrily. Frederick returned her look with bland surprise in his round blue eyes.

  They sat down to baked eggs without further conversation. And though her father occasionally grumbled under his breath during the meal, no more was said about the Abbey. As soon as she was finished, Joanna got up and went out. But instead of going upstairs, she waited in the corridor until Frederick appeared, then pounced on him.

  “Frederick, you went to the Abbey ruins last night, didn’t you? And after your promise to Mama. You should be ashamed!”

  Her brother frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you touched in your upper works, Joanna?”

  The girl repeated what her father had said. “It must have been you, Frederick. You are always exploring those ruins. And who else could it be?”

  His frown deeper, Frederick replied, “I do not know, but you may be sure I mean to find out. If Johnny Townsend is sneaking about trying to get the treasure without me, I shall thrash him soundly.”

  The conviction in his voice gave Joanna pause. “It really wasn’t you?” she asked, still suspicious.

  “I have said it wasn’t, have I not? Why should I skulk about in the dark when Erland is letting me help him search? A pretty fool you must think me.”

  His sister let this sink in. “But who could it have been then?” she said again, in a different tone.

  Frederick grimaced. “We shall see.” The light in his eyes boded ill for any neighborhood boy who had the temerity to intrude on his ground.

  Joanna had no more time to puzzle over this mystery, for her father was ready to set out for the Abbey, and today, she was to accompany him. As she hurried up to her bedroom to gather her drawing materials, she felt a quiver of excitement. The prospect of sketching their finds was exciting, and the idea that she might really aid her father in his work made her glow. She had never been able to do that before.

  Jonathan Erland, Templeton, and Carstairs were all on the scene when they arrived. They were standing near a toppled wall in the ruins and surveying it carefully. Carstairs held the collar of a large, fierce-looking dog.

  “Good morning,” cried Mr. Rowntree when they came up to them. “Is this the place the fools spoiled? We ought to call in a constable. It is disgraceful that anyone would interfere with scientific work in this way.” He came over to look. “Why, someone has been digging here!”

  Erland nodded. “That is what made the wall topple, I think. They began to dig too close and undermined it.”

  “Yes, yes, I see.”
Mr. Rowntree walked around the hole. “It just shows what fools they were. A ridiculous place to excavate—not at all safe. We shall start here when we unearth the crypt.” He indicated a space further from the fallen wall.

  “Brilliant!” cried Templeton. “You always know just what must be done, sir.”

  Though her father paid no attention to this, Joanna looked at the youth curiously. She had not really noticed Templeton and Carstairs before this, but now that she would be working with them every day, she began to wonder what sort of gentlemen they were. Templeton was slender, very dark and intense, and he watched her father’s every move with the light of hero worship in his eyes. He had never spoken to Joanna, and she wondered now if he ever would. He did not seem to see that she had come along today.

  Turning to look at Carstairs, Joanna found that that young man was already gazing at her. When their eyes met, he flushed slightly and mumbled a greeting. Carstairs was a bit plump, with brown hair and ingenuous blue eyes. He looked cheerful and comfort-loving and not at all the sort Joanna would have expected to be interested in her father’s project. Smiling in response, Joanna walked toward him. But Frederick was before her. “Say, that’s a lovely mastiff,” he told Carstairs. “Yours?”

  “Yes.” Carstairs glanced down, then looked up again to return Joanna’s smile. “His name’s Valiant. I’ve had him only a few months.”

  Frederick knelt beside the animal, eliciting a warning growl.

  “Be careful,” said Carstairs. “He’s not more than half trained, and he can’t seem to get used to strangers. Makes no end of trouble at the college.”

  “Are you allowed to keep a dog?” asked Joanna, surprised.

  The young man grinned. “Well, strictly speaking, no. That’s why I have to train him as soon as possible. And that’s why I’m glad to leave him here to guard the Abbey for a while. Someone told the bagwig about Valiant, and he’s on the lookout.”

  “I’ll wager he’s a splendid watchdog,” said Frederick from his knees. “Aren’t you, boy?” He ruffled the dog’s ears affectionately, a caress which the animal suffered with only a baring of teeth.

  At this moment, Gerald came striding across the lawn. He was a bit later than usual, so he was hurrying, and he had already picked up one of shovels from the shed and was carrying it jauntily over one shoulder. Valiant took instant exception to this unaccustomed sight. Barking fiercely, he lunged toward Gerald, and such was Carstairs’ surprise that he let go of the dog’s collar, setting him free to charge.

  “Look out,” called Joanna. All of the others turned to see what was the matter.

  Startled, Gerald watched the mastiff approach. He seemed uncertain about what to do. But finally, at the last minute, Valiant’s bared teeth and deep growls convinced Gerald that he was in earnest, and he held up the shovel before him in defense.

  “Valiant!” cried Carstairs. “Down, sir, down!” He started to run after the dog.

  Confused by this command, but still deeply suspicious of the shovel, Valiant turned slightly aside. His great jaws snapped at the shovel, but he did not offer to renew the attack, and in a moment, Carstairs had his collar once more and was apologizing volubly to Gerald. For a short while, all was confusion, but finally Gerald had been told the story of the night’s incursion and Valiant, his presence explained, had been taken off to the stables to rest for his evening labors.

  “A very satisfactory animal,” said Mr. Rowntree as he was led away. “No one will get past him to interfere with our work.” He rubbed his hands together. “And now, let us get to it. We have wasted enough time already this morning.”

  It soon became obvious to Joanna that Jonathan Erland and Gerald did most of the real work on this project. Frederick, quickly bored by mere digging, disappeared on his own explorations after a very few minutes. Templeton made no move to lend a hand, but stood talking and listening to Mr. Rowntree. Carstairs occasionally tried to help, but he so clearly did not enjoy it that one of the others soon returned. And Joanna’s father, though more than willing to take a shovel, seemed to hamper more than he helped when he did. Joanna herself found a reasonably comfortable flat rock and sat down to watch until she should be called upon to sketch something or perform some other service.

  Erland and Gerald dug; Mr. Rowntree peered at their excavation and gave directions; the sun rose higher in the sky, and the day grew hot. With a muttered excuse, Carstairs went off to “see about Valiant.” And Joanna began to be bored. She had thought that they would find exciting ancient objects quite often and that she would be asked to draw them. But after two hours, nothing of the sort had happened. They were finishing the unearthing of a long wall, started several days ago, before moving on to the chapel foundations, and there seemed to be nothing of interest to be found in this hole. Joanna’s head began to droop. The heat was making her drowsy. Thus, she did not hear the footsteps approaching from behind her and started violently when Sir Rollin Denby said, “Good morning.”

  As she jerked around to face him, he added, “Did I frighten you? I’m sorry.”

  Joanna blinked up at the tall immaculate figure. In his fashionable morning dress, Sir Rollin looked incongruous surrounded by ruins. But he did not seem to notice; he was blandly poised, as ever. Joanna stood up. “G-good morning,” she said.

  “I am late, I fear. You are all such early risers.” He looked toward Erland and Gerald, now hip deep in the excavation. “And such diligence—I am impressed.”

  He didn’t sound impressed. Joanna murmured something indistinct.

  “They have not moved their work?” asked Denby. “I understood that they were to begin on the church today, but perhaps I am mistaken?”

  “Papa wanted to finish here first,” answered Joanna. “Then they will move.”

  “Ah. Your father is laudably methodical. He completes what he starts no matter how, ah, tedious.” The man looked from under lowered eyelids at the widening trench.

  Joanna swallowed. Sir Rollin looked bored. She searched for something to say. “Someone broke into the ruins last night,” she blurted finally.

  Denby raised his eyebrows. “Broke in?” he repeated, looking around.

  “Well, not precisely that. They are quite open, of course. But someone disturbed them.” And Joanna went on to tell him the whole story. “So Mr. Carstairs’ mastiff will be on guard from now on,” she finished.

  Sir Rollin was frowning over her head, but when she stopped speaking, he looked down. “Indeed. Erland feels that his rocks must be guarded then? Perhaps he hopes his treasure is here?”

  Joanna looked around apprehensively, but no one was listening to them. “Oh, it was my father’s idea, I think,” she replied. “But Mr. Erland thinks the money must be either in the house or in the ruins. Those are the only two possible places.”

  “Does he indeed?” The man looked over to Erland, who straightened at that moment and paused to wipe his brow. As he lowered his kerchief, he turned his gaze in their direction, but after a brief glance, he resumed digging.

  “Yes,” continued Joanna, pleased to have some interesting information to impart. “We found some charts of the house and grounds; he is studying those.”

  “Charts?” asked Denby sharply.

  Joanna nodded, a little surprised by his vehemence.

  Meeting her wide brown eyes, Sir Rollin smiled. “Fascinating. But Miss Rowntree, I particularly wanted to speak to you today. I enjoyed our ride so much, and I wanted to tell you so.”

  Joanna’s color rose. “Thank you.” She dropped her eyes.

  “In fact, I dared hope we might repeat it soon. I thought of getting up a party to ride into Oxford next week. We might ask Miss Williston, and perhaps Mr. Townsend, to join us. I had a sudden desire to see my old college after ten years.”

  “It…it sounds delightful,” replied Joanna.

  “Splendid. I shall see what I can arran
ge for, say, Tuesday next. We will set out early, in this heat. Do you think nine would be too soon?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Nine it is then.” He smiled down at her. “Of course, you have seen Oxford countless times, but I hope our party may be pleasant enough that you won’t be bored.”

  “I’m sure I won’t be.”

  He smiled again. “It is settled then. And now, perhaps we should make some move to look at the digging.

  “Though I should much prefer talking with you, it is perhaps rude not to speak to your father.” He offered his arm, and Joanna took it with a little thrill. No other gentleman of her acquaintance would have done such a thing for a walk of a few yards.

  They worked on until eleven, exposing more and more of the old wall. Finally, Mr. Rowntree judged that enough was visible, and he asked Joanna to make a careful sketch of the whole. She sat down before it and got out her pencils and pad, determined to do a perfect job on this first commission. Erland and Gerald went for water, and Sir Rollin took his leave soon after, looking very bored by the proceedings. A few minutes later, Frederick returned from wherever he had been, his clothes very wrinkled and dusty, and came to crouch down beside Joanna. “I’ve been all over the ruins,” he told her, “and I could not find any signs of who it might have been last night. No footprints or anything.”

  Concentrating on her sketch, Joanna murmured, “Well, the ground is very hard.”

  “I know. It is too bad there hasn’t been a good rain lately.” Frederick flopped to lie at her side in the grass. “And you know what else, Joanna—I was looking for places where someone else might have dug, and there weren’t any.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if old man Erland buried his money out here, there would have to be some sign. He couldn’t have done it more than a year or two ago, could he? I mean, he’d want his money above ground while he was alive. So I should be able to find the place, if he dug. But I can’t. So I think the treasure’s in the house. It has to be.”