CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Knowing Gage would not be returning for us until after midday, and certain he would be furious were I to go alone, I turned to Bree. “Are you willing to go for a walk?”
She turned to me with a twinkle in her eyes. “What? An’ miss the chance to learn how to make boiled baby?”
I cringed, having never enjoyed that particular dessert, especially its appearance. “Have they been putting you to work?”
“No, but I volunteer. Makes ’em more comfortable talkin’ to me.” She followed my gaze toward the southern end of the abbey grounds. “Where did ye wish to go?”
I’d been staring off in the direction of the playing fields, where the fourth door to the abbey grounds stood hidden by those holly trees the mother superior mentioned. Gage had told me they’d found the lock had been broken, and the door easily opened and shut. However, I did not relish taking such a long trek, or having to ford the stream. So I swung in the direction of the gardeners’ cottages. “This way.”
Bree followed me across the upper gardens and around the side of the abbey to the northern section of the wall, but when I pulled open the door to step out, she stopped me. “Are ye sure this is a good idea?”
“Yes. There’s two of us, so no one will bother us.” I smiled in reassurance. “Besides, work has begun to repair the wall today, so there will be workmen about. If someone did wish to make trouble, they wouldn’t do so with so many witnesses.”
She reluctantly acceded my point, though she wasn’t finished questioning me. “Where are we goin’? And why?”
The gardeners’ cottages slept drowsily in the sun, the tiny glade silent but for the conversation of a pair of birds overhead. I turned right, following the wall toward Davy’s cottage and then beyond.
“I want a closer look at the pond Miss Lennox was supposedly visiting. And I want to see what’s over that hill beyond it, where the sheep graze. Maybe that will give us a better idea just what she was doing. Or who she was meeting.”
“Why do ye think she went o’er that hill?”
I glanced at her as she fell into step beside me. “Because of her and Mother Mary Fidelis’s shoes. If I’m not mistaken, both pairs had manure on them.”
“So that’s why ye were tryin’ to smell ’em yesterday,” she murmured in sudden understanding. “I wasna’ sure what you were doin’.”
I grimaced. “Yes, and neither was anyone else.”
“Aye. Just witch doctorin’,” she remarked cheekily.
I gave her the gimlet eye.
The trees beyond Davy’s cottage gave over to an open field filled with clover and wild thyme, and even patches of pale pink bindweed, buttercups, and blue milkwort. It was a lovely prospect with the distant cottages beyond, and the rough stone wall of the abbey growing wild with creepers in some spots at our backs. The trail more or less followed the wall, except in one spot where a stand of hawthorns had taken root abutting the stone, forcing the trail to go around them.
As Mrs. Scully had said, within ten minutes we reached the corner of the wall at the far end of the abbey’s property. We could hear the sounds of men at work as we approached, the low rumble of their voices, and the shuffle and clink of their tools against dirt and stone. They looked up as we strolled past, standing to doff their caps. I nodded in greeting, but did not dally to force them to make small talk. I could feel their eyes following us as we made our way toward the pond, but knew they would eventually lose interest.
Out here, away from the protection of the wall, the breeze grew stronger, whipping down across the meadow and rippling the still water on the pond and the tall grasses growing at its verge. The leaves of the beech tree clapped together like applause. We circled the pond as I tried to imagine what, if anything, could have drawn Miss Lennox down to it not once, but at least twice. Her bird excuse seemed dubious, even watching the whirling flight of a flock of meadow pipits. The beech tree was tall, and boasted a small hole in the trunk just above the height of my head, but not for a kingfisher’s nest. It likely belonged to a family of squirrels or some other woodland animal.
The stream which flowed away from the pond down toward the smaller one that stood within the abbey walls was easily crossed by a series of flat rocks, which I suspected had been placed there for this very purpose. We paused on the opposite side of the water, staring back across at the abbey surrounded by its stone wall. The white peaked roof of the summerhouse was just visible above it. There was nothing there to be seen that would frighten or alarm, just a rustic wall and the blue sky speckled with clouds overhead.
Furrowing my brow, I turned to face the rising landscape dotted with sheep. From this vantage, I could see that the hill circled around the pond, cupping it within its palms. The stream which fed the pond flowed in from the north just before the rise of the hill, and the stream which trickled down toward the abbey meandered past the base of the other end of the semicircle. At the base of the hill, it was impossible to tell what was beyond, so I lifted my skirts and began to climb, doing my best to avoid any muck the sheep had left behind.
The hill was not steep, but the climb was far enough that my breath quickened, and my legs—too long cramped in boats and carriages, and seated in parlors—ached from the effort. I inhaled deeply in relief as I reached the top and surveyed the countryside around us. Toward the southeast, past an expanse of fields, I could see the roof of a large building surrounded by trees. The land south of there was filled with nothing but meadows and neatly ordered rows of golden and green crops, stretching all the way to the Priory, I imagined. I couldn’t conceive of Miss Lennox or Mother Fidelis setting off in either of those directions, if they ventured any farther at all.
However, the scenery to the north showed much more promise. In that direction, the hill fell away a short distance before rising again, only to have our view blocked by a wall of vegetation. I could see that a road led in that direction, disappearing from our sight behind the trees and bushes. Curious what lay beyond, I set off down the rise to discover how thick the shrubbery was.
Unfortunately, as Bree and I drew nearer, I realized there wasn’t simply foliage in our way, but a wall, and a tall one, at that. It was overgrown with creepers and vines, and dappled with moss behind the hedging and tall trees, whose branches overarched the stone. If Miss Lennox or Mother Fidelis had come this way, they would have had to go around it, for there was no door. None that I could see anyway.
I paced toward the west for some time, drawing closer to the cottages I had seen in the distance from the abbey, situated near the road. They could have walked up to the road and around, but that would put them at risk of being seen by anyone living in those homes. Instead, I retraced my steps, curious whether they could have found a way around or through toward the east. But once again, we were foiled. Where the high wall ended a low stone wall began, stopping us and the sheep from stumbling into a deep ditch on the other side.
I scowled. “I guess I was wrong. Maybe they didn’t go farther than that hill above the pond.” I planted my hands on my hips and turned to survey my surroundings, feeling like I was missing something.
“Isna that far enough? We’ve already two reports o’ a gentleman hangin’ aboot that pond.”
“Yes, but . . .” I narrowed my eyes. “Didn’t Mrs. Scully say this was the rendezvous point for one of the rebellions?”
“Aye. In 1798.”
“It’s a rather poorly chosen location, don’t you think?” She followed my gaze. “There aren’t many ways to escape if necessary.”
“Not noo. But tha’ low stone wall and ditch look new. I imagine the army built those aboot the same time they started construction on their Military Road that leads into the Wicklow Mountains, where all the rebels who got away went into hidin’. That begins just beyond the Yellow House.”
I studied the low wall. “I suspect you’re right.” My gaze traveled b
ack along the low wall to the high wall and its vegetation. “But I still wish I knew what was behind that.”
The low branches of a crab apple tree growing next to the high wall caught my eye, and I began striding toward it. I had already leaned over to pull the back hem of my skirts through my legs and tucked it into the belt of my pelisse by the time Bree caught up with me.
“What are you doin’?” she demanded.
I grabbed hold of the branch which stretched out almost parallel to the ground, level with my chest, preparing to hoist myself up. “I’m going to see what’s over this wall.”
But before I could jump upward, she wrapped an arm around my waist to stop me. “By climbin’ a tree! Are ye daft?”
I laughed and turned to look at her. “Bree, I’ve done it hundreds of times before.”
“Maybe. But no’ since ye were sixteen, I wager. And no’ while ye were in this state.”
I sighed. “What state?”
She glared at me as if I were a child trying to hide something from her. I lifted my eyebrows in challenge, letting her know two could play that game.
“I ken your courses are late.”
I frowned, considering the matter, and then huffed. “By two days.”
“Three.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, aggravated we were even having this conversation. “You know as well as I do that my courses are irregular. Two or three days is nothing. Besides, I think I would know if it was possible I was expecting.”
She arched a single eyebrow, and I felt a blush begin to burn its way up from my chest.
“Yes, I know it’s possible. I mean . . . that Gage and I . . . we . . .” I broke off with another huff. “But I think I would know if it was happening. There would be signs.”
“You’ve been exhausted, m’lady.”
“Because we’ve been traveling, and investigating an inquiry, and Gage sometimes wakes me . . .” I sliced my hand in front of me, stopping myself before I said more. “The point is, there are any number of reasons why I’m tired. And none of those involves a . . . a baby.”
Bree’s brown eyes softened in the midst of this fervent defense, and I looked away, all of a sudden feeling quite vulnerable. I noticed my breathing was much quicker than I wished, and I inhaled deeply, trying to steady it.
“Aye, m’lady,” she agreed. “But I’m still no’ gonna let ye climb that tree.”
Her stubborn expression told me there was no arguing this, so I relented, pulling my skirts from my belt and allowing them to fall back into place.
“I suppose we should start back. Mr. Gage should be returning soon.” I felt a vague, uncomfortable stirring, wondering if Gage had noted anything, whether he would even notice if my courses were late. Which they weren’t, really. Not yet, anyway.
I turned to scour the wall one last time, trying to shake the thought aside. I stiffened as my gaze snagged on something that looked startlingly familiar.
“A gentleman willna say anythin’ until you do,” Bree assured me, divining my thoughts, but misreading the reason for my surprise.
I ignored her, moving out into the field in an arc, still facing the wall. “There.” I pointed. “Haven’t you seen that somewhere before?”
Bree followed my finger, her head tilting in consideration. “Maybe.”
The way that single word was drawn out told me she was seeing the same thing I did. That was when I realized why I recognized it.
“Mother Mary Fidelis’s sketchbook. That drawing we couldn’t place. It was clearly done in spring when this wild cherry tree was blooming. And these creeping cinquefoil flowers weren’t depicted. But the rest is the same. The position of the rocks, and the blackthorn, and spindle.”
She nodded. “Aye, I see it.” She darted a glance at me. “So she’d been here.”
I was having a hard enough time believing our luck in finding it, I hadn’t even begun to grasp the implications. “Yes. She must have. But why?” I turned to look around me again, back the way we came. “Where was she going? And why did she make that sketch?”
“I dinna ken, m’lady. It seems to lead us nowhere.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Except at least we now know for certain Miss Lennox wasn’t the only one venturing outside the abbey when she shouldn’t have been. And Mother Fidelis had professed her vows.”
“Her solemn ones.” Her expression reminded me this was the most serious of all vows.
“Yes. So what was so important that she would risk, if not precisely breaking them, at least bending them by disobeying her mother superior’s orders?” I wasn’t well enough versed in convents and the Catholic canon to understand what Mother Fidelis had been jeopardizing, and I didn’t need to be to know this wasn’t a simple or flippant matter.
Bree shrugged.
“Well, we’d best hurry now. Gage will be waiting.” My stomach growled. “And I’m famished anyway. Though, I think I prefer to skip that boiled baby and whatever else they were preparing.”
I caught the look Bree was giving me and wrinkled my nose in a scowl. I was not about to attribute my hunger or my finicky appetite to anything other than the result of a vigorous walk and thoughts of a disgusting dish.
“Is that why you’ve been so mopey lately?” I asked.
Her expression turned wary. “What do you mean?”
I glowered at her, letting her know she wasn’t fooling anyone. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn, and downright uncommunicative at times.”
Her face went blank, and she stared straight ahead, refusing to look at me.
“Oh, come now, Bree,” I pleaded more gently. “I know you’re unhappy. Won’t you tell me why?”
“I didna ken I was required to report my every thought to ye.”
Her tart retort was like a slap in the face, and my head reared back as if it had been one. I was well aware that I was overly familiar with my maid. I certainly didn’t need her to remind me of it. If she wanted it to be different, to be normal, then so be it.
“As you wish,” I replied, lengthening my stride so that she would fall behind me, as was proper.
“M’lady, I’m—” she gasped.
But I cut her off. “Let’s not dawdle now.”
I was glad when she didn’t try to speak again.
• • •
Gage was indeed waiting for us when we emerged through the door by the gardeners’ cottages and rounded the corner of the abbey, but it appeared he’d only just arrived. He leapt down from the phaeton and paused at the sight of us crossing the front lawn.
“And where have you been?” he remarked with a smile.
“Out to the pond and over that hill dotted with sheep,” I started to explain.
His grin quickly faded. “Beyond the abbey walls?”
I paused before answering, uncertain of his expression. “Yes. I wanted to see if I could figure out where Miss Lennox . . .”
“Why would you do such a thing without me when you know two women have already been murdered there?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I scowled in growing aggravation. “I was perfectly safe, Gage. Bree came with me and the workmen are there preparing the wall. No one was going to harm us.”
“That may be so, but no one would have been able to see or hear you once you were on the other side of that hill.”
“And how exactly do you know that?”
He tapped his hat against his leg, his eyes darting across my face, searching for some reason not to answer me. “Because I went to look there two days ago.”
I arched my eyebrows in mock outrage. “Without me?”
He did not find my reaction humorous. “Yes.”
“Well, I suspect you didn’t find what we did because you wouldn’t have even known to look.” I blinked my eyes up at him. “So may I please tell you no
w, or would you like to scold me further?”
I took his silent glare as assent and swiftly informed him of Mother Fidelis’s sketch and what we’d discovered.
His brow puckered in puzzlement. “That is interesting. Though I don’t quite see yet how it fits with her murder or Miss Lennox’s.”
“Yet being the operative word.” I moved forward so that he could help me into the carriage, and then I waited for him to hand Bree up to the footman’s bench and take his place beside me. “I’m almost certain there’s a road behind that wall, running west to east. Do you think we might drive down it? And then we should pay a visit to the priest at the Catholic Chapel. Mrs. Scully implied he might have some pertinent information for us about some ‘going-ons’ Miss Lennox had gotten herself involved in. Her words.”
Gage sat quite still through this entire speech. “You’ve been busy today.”
“Of course I have.” I clutched my reticule in my lap, staring over the front of the carriage at the Friesian black horses. “Someone tried to intimidate us last night, threatening to burn down the house we were sleeping in. If two murders weren’t incentive enough, that certainly was.”
I felt his hand steal into my own, the warmth of his touch reaching me even through our gloves. “If they decide to return, they won’t find us so taken by surprise. Or quite so unarmed.” His boot nudged a long canvas package lying at our feet in the front of the carriage. “I’ve seen to that.”
I glanced up in surprise as I realized they were almost certainly guns. Rifles, if the shape of the bundle was any indication.
“Courtesy of Corcoran. And he’s agreed to spare a pair of cadets to man the gate lodge.”
“Well, that’s somewhat of a relief.” A thought occurred to me. “Do you think these cadets can be trusted?”
“I should say so. But if not, we’ll not be defenseless.”
I nodded.
He picked up the reins and prodded the horses with a flick of his wrist. “Now, let’s go see about this road of yours, but I’m afraid the priest will have to wait until tomorrow.” His voice turned wry. “We’ve been summoned to a dinner party by Mr. LaTouche. You remember him?”
As Death Draws Near Page 20
