The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel)

by Sandra Lea Rice

  “She’s the reason behind the children’s home,” Jason added thoughtfully. “I’ve always wondered.”

  “Partly, but had circumstances been different, a foundling home might well have been my fate.”

  James’ hand came down on Anthony’s shoulder. “There is no need to disclose this, Tony.”

  Anthony clapped his hand over his friend’s. “It all must be said.”

  “How does any of this figure into the puzzle?” Stallings queried.

  “Clairece found a short woven strip of leather in my mother’s jewelry box. She’s positive it’s from the stolen artifact.” The room exploded in a pandemonium of men’s voices. Anthony waited for the outburst to subside before he continued. “We also discovered a letter from my mother’s lover.”

  “I’m having trouble making the connection, Harding,” Stallings retorted.

  “My birth father was a Scottish Laird. Apparently, his family had been protecting the collar for hundreds of years. My guess would be one of Queen Mary’s Ladies-in-Waiting was a distant relative. In the letter, Duncan gave the artifact to my mother in the event she needed to start another life for the two of us.”

  Stallings withdrew the ever-present black book, pencil poised.

  “After my mother died, her husband had her personal belongings burned. By the time I arrived home, only a pile of smoldering debris remained. I was able to retrieve the charred jewelry box from the embers, but the lock had been broken.”

  Stallings lifted his gaze from the notes he’d scribbled. “You believe the relic was stolen?”

  “It appears so.”

  “Do you suspect the late earl?”

  A dropped pin would have echoed in the silent room. Knowing where these questions led stripped Anthony bare, the horrors of his past revealed. “The estate was near bankruptcy at the time the late earl . . . died. It took years to make it solvent and clear of debt. I’ve refurbished most of the interior and found neither the collar nor the blunt from such a sale, anywhere in the Hall.”

  “Is it possible our scar-faced man stumbled upon the box?” James wondered.

  “I see no logical reason for a man from the London slums to be in Somerset, much less in the country outside Harding Hall.” Anthony shook his head. “No, it’s more likely someone from around here. However, in all the years since Mother’s death, there’s not been a significant change in lifestyle for anyone from the village. Most have family here. That sort of financial windfall would quickly be noted.”

  “Still, it’s worth following up on,” Stallings determined.

  “Could someone from the Hall have found and sold the collar?” Adrian asked.

  “The same thing applies to the staff, both here and at Roxbury Abbey. The majority have families in the village and have lived here all of their lives.” Anthony thought of his own staff. “Many are working here now.”

  “What of Roxbury? Where was he at the time?” Philippe spoke up.

  Anthony met Philippe’s gaze and held it. “He said he was in London.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I want to.” Anthony swallowed, pushing back the dark thoughts plaguing him.

  “Who is this Roxbury?” Adrian’s gaze swept from Philippe to Anthony.

  “His name is Gerald Wade, Baronet Roxbury, and my cousin.” Anthony sighed.

  “The same man who helped pull you from the river?” Joel broke in.

  “Yes.”

  Stallings rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It has been my experience that when a man loses everything, he is capable of anything.”

  “Gerald is many things, but I cannot believe he’s the monster responsible for all these deaths.”

  Adrian’s head jerked up. “What?”

  Stallings shifted his gaze to Adrian. “The American who originally purchased the collar was found in his home, apparently slain by the scar-faced man.” He explained the connection made between the London deaths and Anthony’s maid. The room once more fell silent as they realized the significance for Clairece.

  “I sent an inquiry to the Metropolitan Police in New York to see if there were similar murders at the time of the theft. If so, we finally have a lead in the serial killings, and proof the man trying to kill Lady Clairece and our perpetrator is one and the same.”

  “My God.” Adrian bounded to his feet and began pacing.

  “We believe there are two men. The man with the scar takes his orders from another who is described as a gentleman. That man is the most dangerous,” Anthony interjected.

  “What are you doing about it?” Adrian ground out, a clear challenge directed at Stallings.

  “All that is possible, I assure you.” Stallings glared back. “Men are checking the archives at different departure points for the name of anyone traveling to and from New York within a month or so of the theft.”

  Philippe rose and the room quieted. “A message was sent to Rafael asking for men to help patrol and search the village.”

  Adrian rubbed his forehead. “How long before they arrive?”

  “Soon,” Philippe assured. “While we wait, there are only enough men to guard Sanctuary Park and the Hall.”

  “With the four of us, added to the four of you, we’ll make a fair showing by riding through the middle of town,” Adrian suggested. “We might not have the resources to search, but we can demonstrate our intent to help the villagers and show the culprits we mean to stop them.”

  James spoke up. “Gentlemen, one more thing. I hope the information Tony shared will remain inside this room. For a man to lay open the sins of his family to save others, is more than commendable. He should not be punished, as society would surely do, should any of this become known.”

  Adrian moved to stand before Anthony, his hand outstretched. “Family business remains family business. To be clear, name does not make a family, nor does blood. People make a family, and we are family.”

  Chapter 49

  Clairece wanted to hurl something against the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces.

  She closed her eyes and screamed for all the lost years, for the needless heartache, and for the realization she’d been betrayed by yet another man she’d trusted.

  An arm slid around her waist and her mother’s soothing voice whispered, “It will be all right, my darling. Concentrate on what was found, not what was denied you.”

  Impossible. “I thought Roger an honorable man, and all the time he kept my daughter from me!”

  Her mother led her to the settee. “Roger was also our friend. We would never have guessed him capable of such a deed.”

  “He was always so kind and considerate,” Clairece ground out, trying to fathom the extent of Roger’s duplicity.

  “Did he ever discuss his feelings for you? Was love ever mentioned?”

  Clairece jerked around to face her mother. “Never. He was like an uncle to me, and of Father’s age. And, it was not the arrangement we agreed upon.”

  “Not in the beginning, perhaps, but sometimes in prolonged close proximity, one’s feelings change. And, dearest, age has nothing to do with it, I assure you.”

  “If that were true, his treachery was all the more heinous.”

  Her mother sighed. “We may never know what prompted Roger to act the way he did.” She placed a black ledger in Clairece’s lap. “There may be something in here which will help.”

  “What is it?” Clairece fingered the small tome.

  “It’s a diary. Roger recorded his notes and payments for Miranda’s care. We read only far enough to locate her.”

  Clairece clutched the book to her chest and rocked back and forth. “Roger let me believe my babe died. He looked me in the eyes and told me she’d been stillborn.” Clairece’s anger burst. “How could he, Mot
her? He said Miranda was too small to survive, and all the while he kept her hidden. I was told Roger buried Miranda in a quiet place under the tree in the back garden! He didn’t want me to endure the additional pain of seeing my baby laid to rest.”

  “In our concern for you, we let the suddenness of his actions go without question. I am so sorry.” Her mother twisted a handkerchief in her lap. “I failed you.”

  “Never say that. Even in my delirium, I heard your voice and knew you were with me.” Clairece squeezed her hand.

  “Will you tell me about Lord Harding?” Her mother’s gentle gaze spoke volumes about her concern.

  “In the beginning, all I wanted was to avenge Roger,” Clairece admitted. “Anthony is a good man, one who sets unbelievably high standards for himself and despairs if he cannot reach them.”

  “Are you aware of his reputation?”

  “With women? Yes. I learned all I could shortly after we met.”

  “How did you meet?”

  Heat rose in Clairece’s cheeks. “I broke into his home on New Year’s Eve.” At her mother’s shocked inhalation, Clairece rushed to explain. “I had reason to suspect he had the stolen collar. I didn’t believe Anthony responsible for the theft, but he is a man who appreciates antiquities and has an extensive collection. I hoped he could give me a solid lead on who killed Roger.”

  “My God, Clairece. Is there nothing you won’t do?”

  Clairece glanced down at her hands. “It gets worse. He was in the library and caught me.”

  “Do you have any idea what might have happened?”

  “I fully expected he would be busy with his guests.”

  “Guests?” Her mother paled.

  “Well, yes. He hosts a fancy-dress ball each year and shouldn’t have been in his library.”

  “He is not the one who shouldn’t have been there.”

  “How else was I to find what I needed? I could hardly just ask him.”

  “Obviously not. Such an idea as asking a straightforward question would not occur to you,” her mother quipped. “What happened next?”

  Clairece felt her body heat with mortification. “Anthony mistook me for a courtesan, one sent for his pleasure for the night.”

  “What?” Red flagged her mother’s cheeks. “How is that possible? You don’t appear anything like a—” She swallowed. “Why would he think such a thing?”

  “I had to improvise a costume. I must admit, the end result was a little, ah, risqué. He told me to leave—”

  “Tell me you did.” It was a heartfelt plea.

  Clairece shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I came for a purpose and I intended to follow through. Anthony’s presence was an inconvenience.”

  “An inconvenience?” Her mother squeaked. “You call facing the owner of the home you’d broken into, merely an inconvenience?” She drew in a steadying breath. “You obviously didn’t find the collar. So what did happen?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. “It became far more complicated than I’d expected.”

  “How much more?”

  “I decided to let him believe what he would of me if it gave me time to look around. But the longer I stayed with him . . .” Clairece sighed. “He has the most wonderful voice. When he speaks softly, it’s like a lullaby, one I could listen to forever. He was so tender and caring. I took what he offered and I’m not sorry. He—”

  “I believe I understand without you saying more. After the two of you . . .” Her mother’s hands fluttered. “He let you walk away?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I despair at hearing you say that.”

  Clairece bit her lip. “I drugged him, searched his library, and left before he’d awakened.”

  Much to Clairece’s astonishment, her mother snorted a laugh. “I’m surprised he didn’t come after you, you bedlamite, and have you locked away.”

  “Oh, he came after me. Upon discovering I was James’ cousin, he was livid. James is one of Anthony’s best friends.”

  “Ahh, a gentleman’s honor.” Her mother’s brow lined. “Even so, there was no need to marry. You could have returned to America, you still can if you wish, and not place yourself in the same situation.”

  As in my marriage to Roger? The unspoken words hung in the air between them. “It’s not the same. I love Anthony, Mother. I love him so much the thought of losing him is more than I can bear.”

  “I see. Are you prepared to accept he might occasionally . . . stray?”

  “He said he will not, and I believe him.”

  “Your Anthony is a most attractive man. He has a certain air about him. I don’t say these things to hurt you, only to caution you. Your father and I, your whole family in fact, wants only the best for you. Does he know why you married Roger?”

  “Yes, and amazingly, he still wants me.” Clairece lifted her chin. “He would never misuse me.”

  “I pray you’re right, but he’s only human with human failings. Should something happen, don’t judge him harshly before thinking things through. If he is truly as good a man as you say, make the effort to hear him out before making a decision.”

  Clairece brushed a finger over the ledger. Did that advice also apply to Roger? Was there any reason on earth to forgive her late husband for what he’d done? Right now, she doubted it. She was wise enough to understand her pain made her incapable of absolving Roger. Perhaps, one day.

  Tears spilled on the leather-bound book and Clairece brushed them away.

  Anthony tapped lightly on Clairece’s chamber door and waited for a response. News she was still closeted with her mother, caused no little concern.

  The door opened and Virginia emerged. “She’s terribly upset. Perhaps you can help her find a way to accept what’s happened. In truth, there is no way to justify what Roger did.” Virginia moved off toward the stairs, leaving him to ponder what he might say.

  Anthony shut the door behind him and joined Clairece on the small sofa. “Sweetheart?”

  Her body trembled with pain, or rage, perhaps both. Anthony threaded his fingers through her cold ones.

  “How could Roger do such a thing? I trusted him.”

  Anthony noted the small, black book clasped in her other hand. “What are you holding, love?”

  “It’s all in here.” She pressed the volume against her chest. “Every last detail of Roger’s treachery is in this book.”

  He waited, willing her to continue.

  “Do you remember my telling you I’d sent Roger’s journals to my father? He’s to help me complete the manuscript regarding the war.”

  Anthony nodded encouragingly.

  “My housekeeper packed for me and didn’t recognize this one as being different from the others. Later, as Papa sorted through the memoirs, he came across this journal. Through it, my parents discovered Miranda’s existence and were able to find her.”

  Roger’s dying words ‘forgive me’ suddenly made sense. Anthony slid his arm around Clairece. “Will you tell me?”

  Clairece sighed. “I’ll start with what my mother told me. While Father placed Roger’s journals in chronological order, he recognized this one as a personal diary. He would have set it aside, but he noticed a reference to the child, Miranda.”

  She pressed closer to his side, and Anthony sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

  “The ledger contained the name and address of the nurse to whom Roger had given the baby. All these years he’d been paying for Miranda’s care.” She bowed her head and grew quiet.

  “Was that the reason for your family’s stop in Philadelphia?”

  “Yes. They chose not to tell me because they weren’t certain what they might find. Roger had been dead for two years. It had been even longer since money was sent for Miranda’s care. Th
ey didn’t want to raise my hopes should it turn out badly.”

  “But they did find her.”

  “Yes, though not right away. They went to the address listed and discovered the woman who lived there for the past six years had recently died. No one seemed to know the child’s whereabouts. Through neighbors, they discovered Miranda’s old nurse had a sister living in a small village just outside Philadelphia. Once there, it wasn’t difficult to locate her as everyone knew of the unexpected arrival of a young woman and child.”

  “The young woman in case, Miss Emma Baker?”

  Clairece gave a brief nod. “The old nurse grew ill. She contacted her sister who lived in Shrimpton and asked if she would take Miranda. The sister is a great deal older and not in good health herself. Between them, they hired Miss Baker. Since an attachment formed between the new nanny and Miranda, my parents thought it best if Miss Baker accompanied them.”

  “A brilliant idea. With so many changes in the child’s life, to be taken away from the only people she knew would have been frightening. It speaks well of Miss Baker that she would agree to travel this far.”

  “In my head, I understand. In my heart, I want to howl at the unfairness of it. That attachment should have been between my daughter and me.”

  Anthony pulled her closer. “We can give thanks Miranda was cared for by people who obviously loved her. You will build your own relationship with your daughter. I believe she wants it, desperately.”

  “Do you think so?” Clairece stared into his eyes, then her gaze skittered away. “I’m a terrible person, Anthony. I’m jealous of those who had this time with my child. I’ve missed seeing her grow, or speak her first words, or-or—”

  She hurled the book across the room.

  “I wish I could get the time back for you, but I cannot.” He took Clairece by the chin and coaxed her to look at him. “You’ve been given a child you thought was lost. I’d hate to see you waste any of this precious time feeling anger at things you cannot change.”