by Candace Camp
“Yes, we had,” Anna agreed. “Can you boys run back to the house and get him? I—I think I should stay here with…” Her voice trailed off, and she turned to look again at the body.
Con and Alex looked at each other.
“We shouldn’t leave you alone,” Alex said doubtfully.
“I’ll be all right,” she assured him. “That poor man cannot hurt me, and I am sure that whoever or whatever killed him is no longer around.”
“It doesn’t seem right.” Con and Alex looked at each other again, and then Con said, “Alex can go, and I will stay with you.”
“No, I don’t want one of you alone,” Anna said immediately.
“But you said that he was long gone.”
“Yes, I imagine, but…”
The boys, however, had made up their minds, and they were, apparently, as stubborn as their brother. In the end, Anna agreed, and Con dropped down beside her, while Alex started off at a trot across the footbridge.
Anna leaned down and put her hand on Con’s shoulder. “Thank you for staying with me. It was very kind of you.”
“We could not leave you here by yourself,” Con told her gravely. “It is not the sort of thing a gentleman would do.”
Anna smiled. “I think that you and Alex are very fine gentlemen.”
Con gave her a smile that held a glimpse of his normal cheeky grin. “Not according to most of our tutors.”
“Then they are not very discerning men.”
“That is what Kyria says.”
They were silent for a moment, and Anna saw Con’s eyes drift over toward the body. To keep his mind off it, Anna asked, “How did you two decide that it was Alex who should go? I did not see you discuss it.”
Con shrugged. “We didn’t have to discuss it. We just…knew. I always know what Alex thinks.”
“And he knows what you think? It must be nice to have that sort of communication with another person.”
“I don’t know. Makes it hard to play a trick on him,” Con pointed out practically.
“Yes, I can see how that would be.”
Anna kept the conversation going in order to keep both their minds from returning to what lay only a few yards away from them. They talked about tutors and governesses, and Anna soon had a good idea of the educational views of the boys’ mother, the duchess of Broughton.
She did not know how long it had been when she heard a noise. She whipped around, her heart pounding, and saw Reed running toward them.
“Reed!” She jumped to her feet, and Con leaped up and ran toward his brother, meeting him just this side of the footbridge.
Reed lifted Con up, giving him a hug, then set him down and hurried on toward Anna. His arms opened as he neared her, and, without giving it a thought, Anna rushed into them, throwing her arms around his chest and holding on for dear life. Suddenly, after all the time that had passed since they reached the body, she found herself crying.
Reed held her close, stroking her back and murmuring soft words of sympathy. The meaning of them scarcely registered with Anna, only the feeling of comfort. She had no idea how long they stood that way. She was aware only of the strength and warmth of his body against hers, enfolding her, protecting, comforting…. She felt his lips press against her hair and heard the murmur of her name.
There was the sound of a horse’s hooves, then splashing as it crossed the stream. Reluctantly, Anna and Reed pulled away and turned to face the arrival.
It was Rafe McIntyre. He pulled to a stop and dismounted, and Anna saw that he wore a belt with a holster into which a pistol had been thrust. After tying his horse to a low branch, he strode over to them.
“Kyria sent a groom with a message to the doctor and the constable. I reckon they’ll be here pretty soon.” He tipped his hat to Anna. “Ma’am. Con.” He ruffled the boy’s hair and pulled him against his side for a brief, hard hug. “You all right, son?”
Con nodded. Rafe gave his back a pat and nodded toward the body. “I’ll go take a look.”
Anna made a sound of dismay, reaching out her hand toward him and shaking her head. Rafe paused and gave her a faint smile. But she could see in his eyes something she had not noticed before, something hard and world-weary.
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” he told her. “I’ve seen a good many of them before now.”
He turned and walked over to the body, leaning over it, then carefully dropping down on one knee beside it.
Reed turned to Anna. She wished that his arms were still around her, but she pushed down the treacherous thought.
“Did you recognize him?” Reed asked.
“I don’t know his name. I think—I think it is one of the Johnsons. There are several cousins. Their fathers are farmers.” She looked away, feeling again the queasiness she had experienced when she looked at the body. “The way he looked—I am not sure I would have recognized him even if I had known him well.”
“Don’t think about it,” Reed advised, taking her arm gently. “Just let it go.”
“I’m not sure I can.” Anna passed a shaky hand across her forehead. “I fear that I shall be seeing…that whenever I close my eyes. Oh, Reed, I so hate it that the boys saw him.” She looked over at Con, who had wandered back to the footbridge and was sitting, gazing down at the water.
“There was nothing you could do,” Reed told her. “I will talk to both the boys. And Rafe will, as well.” He glanced toward the other man, who had finished looking over the body and was walking back toward them. “Rafe was in the war in America. He has seen worse things than I can even imagine. He will help them.”
Reed turned toward Rafe inquiringly as he reached them. “What did you find?”
“There’ll be a hell of a lot more talk about your ‘Beast,’” the other man said dryly.
“It looks like an animal attack?”
Rafe shrugged. “That’s what it’s set up to look like. But the only animal involved here is a man.”
“Are you sure?” Anna asked.
“Those aren’t the marks of any animal I know. Only thing that big is a bear paw, and I don’t think you have many bears lurking around here. Besides, he was laid out there. It looks…staged, like he was arranged this way for someone to find. To see.”
“But why?” Anna asked.
“Now, that, ma’am, I don’t know. People do things that surpass all comprehension, I’ve found.” He turned to Reed. “I’ll stay here while you take Miss Holcomb and Con back to the house.”
Reed nodded. “Yes. Thank you. I will return as soon as possible.”
He took Anna’s arm, and they started toward the footbridge. “I should have ridden over, as Rafe did, I suppose. That way I could have brought you a mount. After what you experienced, I am sure you are very tired.”
“My knees are a trifle shaky,” Anna admitted, summoning up a faint smile. “Oh, Reed! That poor boy! His poor parents. It doesn’t bear thinking of.”
“No.”
They joined Con at the footbridge and crossed it, heading back to Winterset. It seemed a much longer way returning than it had been walking over that morning. Anna was glad for the support of Reed’s arm.
When they reached Winterset, Reed led them inside and up the stairs to Kyria’s sitting room, where she and Miss Farrington were sitting with Alex, anxiously awaiting their arrival.
“Anna!” Kyria cried when Anna and Reed walked into the room, and she jumped up to rush over and enfold Anna in her arms. “You poor dear. Come sit down with us. I’ll ring for some tea, shall I? And then perhaps you would like to lie down.”
“Take good care of her, Kyria,” Reed said. “I am going back to wait with Rafe. Send the constable and the doctor on as soon as they come.”
“I will,” Kyria promised, looping an arm around Anna and guiding her over to the sofa.
Reed followed, and when Anna was seated, he bent down to take her hand. Anna’s fingers curled around his tightly as she realized how much she did not want him to leave.
/> He smiled into her eyes, giving her hand a squeeze. “Let Kyria cosset you for a while. I will return as soon as I can. Try to put it out of your mind.”
Reed left, and Anna did as he suggested, letting Kyria and Miss Farrington fuss over her, arranging pillows around her on the couch so that she was comfortable and plying her with tea. Alex and Con retreated to their room. The boys would, Kyria explained to Anna and Rosemary, handle what had happened to them as they did everything—together.
Kyria thought Anna should lie down, but Anna did not think she could sleep, and, frankly, she was reluctant to close her eyes, for she knew that the image of the dead boy would come flooding back. Miss Farrington read aloud from The Moonstone, but Anna found it difficult to concentrate on the story. She kept waiting for the sound of Reed’s return.
The constable and Dr. Felton arrived, and Anna, more familiar with the area than Kyria, directed them to where Reed and Rafe waited for them. After they left, Rosemary once more gamely took up reading. She was, Anna thought, really a sweet girl. She could see why Kit was drawn to her. If only things were different…
Time crawled on, and tea had long been served before the men came back to the house. They had little new to say. The doctor had confirmed that the wounds were very similar to those on Estelle Akins’ body, and the constable had recognized the victim as Frank Johnson, whose father’s farm lay not far from the footbridge where they had found the boy’s body. The constable had seen him, in fact, in the tavern only the evening before. He had apparently been walking home from the tavern when the killer had struck.
When tea was over, Reed drove Anna back to Holcomb Manor in the trap she had driven over in, his own horse tied to the back. They sat side by side, the trap small enough that his arm pressed against hers, and Anna found it comforting to have him next to her, large and solid. They said little, for which Anna felt grateful. She was still too shocked by the events of the day to talk much. It was soothing to feel the fading glow of the summer sun on her skin, to have her cheek brushed by a stray breeze, to soak in the familiar beauty of the land and the slowly setting sun.
When they reached the Manor, Reed walked her to the door, and she found herself slipping her hand into the crook of his arm as if it were the most natural thing to do. He covered her hand with his own for a moment.
“Will you be all right? Is your brother here?” He looked down into her face, his own brow knotted in concern.
Anna nodded, smiling at him reassuringly. “Yes, I shall be fine. I imagine Kit is here, and, if not, there is a whole houseful of servants. I will be perfectly all right.”
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, and Anna thought that he was going to lean down and kiss her, and she was not sure what she would do. She was so tired and heartsore, and it seemed too great an effort to erect her customary barrier between them. But just then the door was opened by one of the Holcomb footmen, and the moment was gone.
Reed bowed over her hand and went back down the steps to his horse, and Anna went inside. She found Kit in his study, going over some papers, and he looked up at her entrance with a smile.
“Ah, thank heavens. I hope you have come to save me from an accounting of the farm rents.”
“No. I—” Tears sprang into Anna’s eyes, surprising her almost as much as her brother.
“Anna! What is it?” Kit rose and moved around the side of his desk to her.
“Someone else has been killed,” she told him tersely.
“What!” Kit took hold of her arms. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I—I found him.”
He stared at her, stunned, as she described to him how she and the twins had stumbled upon the body just beyond the footbridge, leaving out the feeling of cold pain and terror that had swept her just before they saw the body. She had never told even Kit about her visions.
“My God,” he said weakly when she had finished, his hands dropping from her arms. “What is happening here?”
“He was marked as Estelle was,” Anna went on. “Dr. Felton said so, and I saw it. It was horrible—as if some large animal had torn at him. His throat—” She stopped and swallowed, unable to describe what she had seen.
Kit turned and looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “What are you saying?”
“I cannot help but wonder…”
“No!” Kit told her sternly. “I know what you are thinking, but it isn’t true. It’s impossible. How can you even wonder? He would never—”
“Are you so sure?” Anna asked, her eyes searching her brother’s face. “I am not.”
“It cannot be,” Kit reiterated, but his eyes fell from her face. He stood for a moment, staring down at the carpet as if it held some secret. “All right,” he said finally. “We will go up there tomorrow. Will that help you?”
“Yes,” Anna replied. “I think we have to.”
* * *
They set out the next morning not long after breakfast, walking through their garden and along the path that wound back into the woods. Anna avoided the path that led to the spot where she had experienced the chilling pain the other day as they walked deeper into the trees. The land began to rise as they approached Craydon Tor. On the far side of the tor, the land dropped in a sheer cliff face down to the ground below, offering a clear view of the countryside for miles. On that side it was a towering edifice, looming over everything else.
On this side, it was a gradual rise, thick with trees and bushes, climbing, then leveling out a little, then climbing again. Because of the thick woods, it was not a particularly popular place to walk, and even those who did climb the tor stuck to the marked path.
Kit and Anna, however, veered off the path, going deeper into the forest, winding around trees and stones. After a time, they reached a line of stones that seemed to curve in a large circle, disappearing at either end into the underbrush. Stepping over the stones, they continued, grasping at branches of trees and saplings to help them up the steeper parts. They went around an outcropping of rock and came upon a narrow path. It led them up toward the side of the tor, and though the ground there was still a slope that was easily enough traversed, ahead of them the hill became a sheer rock face.
There, against the rock, was nestled a small, dark hut, barely distinguishable from the trees and bushes around it. A man sat on a stool in front of the small house, whittling away at a piece of wood in his hand. There was a small fire built in front of him, and over the fire hung an iron pot. A semicircle of rocks, much like the ones they had already passed, ran in front of the hut and around to the cliff face on either side of the house.
Almost unnoticed at first, another man lay rolled up in a blanket beneath one of the trees, a wooden marker stuck into the ground at his feet, another at his head. A twig cracked under Kit’s feet as they approached, and the sleeping man sat straight up, staring at them wildly.
“It’s all right, sir.” The other man, too, had looked up and seen them, and he stood up and walked toward Anna and Kit. “Master Kit, Miss Anna. It’s good to see you.”
“Hello, Arthur,” Kit replied to the man walking toward them. He and Anna stepped over the line of stones and walked closer, their steps slow, their demeanor calm.
The man who had been sleeping rose to his feet, glancing back at Arthur Bradbury, then again at Kit and Anna. He was a man of medium height, dressed in a simple cotton shirt and serge jacket and trousers, and his feet were bare. His hair, a brown color mixed with gray, was bushy and long, hanging below his shoulders. The lower half of his face was covered with an equally long beard, much more streaked with white than the hair on his head. His face was smudged, a dark streak across his brow and one more on each of his cheeks above his beard. His eyes were light-colored, and they did not stay on Kit and Anna, but kept flickering from them to the ground beside him, then back to them.
He raised one hand toward them, palm out, as if to stop them, and they came to a halt. On his upraised hand, the fingernails were bizarrely long, curving down at the e
nds, so that they resembled claws. The fingernails on his other hand were the same, though one had been broken off shorter than the others. His feet, if one looked down, had nails that grew out from his toes at a much greater length than normal.
“I know you,” he said finally.
“Yes, you do,” Kit said.
He nodded slowly. “Hello.”
“Hello, Uncle Charles,” Anna and Kit replied.
CHAPTER TEN
Their uncle nodded again, a short, decisive nod, then did it twice more. “How are you? Are you well?” he asked, his polished voice at odds with his rough clothes and bizarre appearance.
“We are,” Kit replied. He and Anna carefully did not move any closer to their uncle. Uncle Charles disliked anyone standing too close to him. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Charles de Winter replied. “I am looking out for her. I am careful. You know that.”
“Yes, we do,” Anna agreed. “You are always very careful.”
His gaze skittered to her, then away again. Anna was accustomed to it. Her uncle did not like to look anyone in the eye, either. “One has to be,” he said firmly. “She has spies everywhere. They are always trying to find me.” He gave them a quick, crafty smile. “I have outfoxed her, though.”
He gestured toward the stones encircling the hut, then patted one of the slats of wood that stood where he had lain. Things that looked like letters in some foreign tongue—Arabic, perhaps, or something like it—decorated the marker, running in a row downward. Anna knew that the other wooden slat was decorated on the far side with similar figures. What they said, she had no idea. All she knew was that her uncle insisted on sleeping between the two markers, feeling that they kept him safe.
She and Kit, like nearly everyone else who lived in the area, had thought that her mother’s brother had sailed to Barbados ten years earlier. It had not been until three years ago that her father had finally taken her aside and told her the truth. Her uncle was mad.
Anna could remember clearly the day her father had told her. It had been the day all her dreams had died.
