by Valerie King
“Why do you suppose Jack Stub called it Devil’s Gate?” Miss Ambers queried. “Are there any historical associations that would support the use of such a name?”
“Not that I know,” Evelina said. She called to one of her servants, who carried a ladder, and directed him to remove the vines above the gate to see if anything had been carved into the original stone.
Sir Alfred took charge of the map and led several of the party through the opened gate, passing onto Blacklands to begin their search. Evelina remained at the gate to see if the servant’s labors would have a good effect.
In the end, several words did appear, but of so opposite a meaning to “Devil’s Gate” that she found herself confused. Miss Ambers stood beside her equally puzzled as Stephen Rewell read aloud, “Where angels tread, lightly the soul passes.”
“Tis quite lovely,” Miss Ambers said, clearly enchanted.
“Beautiful, even tender,” Mia said. She had asked and been permitted to join in the hunt. The younger Wesley children, however, were required to remain at Wildings. “Only, how could Jack Stub have called this Devil’s Gate?”
“I must admit, it makes no sense at all,” Stephen Rewell commented.
“What makes no sense?” his sister blurted as she suddenly appeared from the other side of the hedge at the gate. Passing through, she bumped the ladder upon which the servant was standing and nearly caused him to fall.
“Have a care,” Mr. Rewell said.
“Oh, do stubble it,” Miss Rewell returned hotly. “What a cretin you are.”
Evelina interjected quickly. “We have found an inscription in the stone above the gate. Do but look.”
Miss Rewell read the carved poetic phrase. “I have no idea what that means,” she said, wrinkling up her nose, “but there is nothing devilish about it, of that I am certain.”
Evelina addressed the servant now holding fast to the ladder. “Do you see any more carving?”
“Nay, m’lady.”
Evelina felt quite disappointed. She recalled Mr. Creed’s warning that Jack Stub would not have made the finding of his treasure, even with a map, a simple process.
“Come, let us see what the others are doing,” she said.
Passing through the gate, she found Sir Alfred near the stream, glancing first one direction then the other, then at the map. He surveyed the land as one in command. “There is a footpath,” he said, gesturing across the stream. “Colonel Carfax, Mr. Rewell, Mrs. Rewell, Mrs. Huggett and Lady Monceaux have ventured in that direction. For some reason, Mr. Crookhorn and Mr. Fuller headed north around those hills. I have no idea why.”
“Perhaps they are feeling adventuresome,” Miss Ambers offered.
When Stephen Rewell, his sister, Euphemia and Miss Ambers began crossing the stream, stepping on stones carefully to avoid getting their feet wet, Sir Alfred drew Evelina aside. “I was hoping for a word with you. Did you have a chance to speak with Rotherstone?”
“Yes, of course I did. I had meant to tell everyone earlier, but there was so much excitement about beginning the hunt I quite forgot. As for Rotherstone allowing all of us to speak with Mr. Creed, he absolutely refused. He did not say why, but he was adamant on that point. He is, however, considering attending the assemblies with Sir Edgar.”
“That at least is hopeful,” he said, but he was frowning. At that moment, a shout rose from across the stream. “It would appear Mr. Rewell has discovered something of import.”
Evelina picked up her skirts and made a careful if quick dash across the stepping-stones in the stream and walked briskly along the footpath she had traversed that first night. Sir Alfred followed behind.
A hundred yards down the path, she came upon Stephen Rewell and the rest of the party that had ventured in an easterly direction. Stephen Rewell held up a stone he had unearthed where the path diverged and the land sloped. “What do you make of this? Do you think it could be the ruin of the well mentioned in the riddle?”
Miss Ambers brushed the stone with her kerchief. The stone had been chiseled and a word written across the front. “I think it might be ‘Edward’ or something.”
Evelina drew near the servant holding the map. “I think we are not far enough along to have reached the well yet.”
“You are correct, Lady Evelina, inasmuch as these are not stones that once made up a well.”
Evelina turned sharply and saw that Rotherstone had ridden up on his gray horse. He was very near the fallen log upon which he had been standing the night she had trespassed on his lands. She was transported backward in time so quickly that for a moment it was as though she could feel him kissing her again. The sensation was so profound that she could scarcely breathe.
This would not do, however. She collected herself quickly. “How do you go on, Lord Rotherstone?” she asked politely. Glancing about, she could see the tension in every person present.
“Very well, I thank you.”
“And you are certain these are not from a well?”
“Very much so. They have been placed at this location to keep the soil from eroding, having been taken from the old garden where I can only suppose one of my forebears, in his youth, practiced a little stone carving of his own. There will be more of a similar nature if you keep digging, but I hope you will not.”
Mr. Rewell set the stone back where he had found it. He knelt and felt through the thick grass. “He is right. There are any number arranged in a long row.”
“A natural mistake, I am certain, Mr. Rewell.”
Stephen Rewell rose up and tipped his hat to the earl.
“Are you known to everyone?” Evelina asked.
He glanced round the group. “I believe I am. Welcome to Blacklands.”
As one, the group bowed or curtsied as was proper. Annabelle Rewell was heard to sigh very deeply.
“I will not detain your search,” he said. “I came only to say that I am having my servants bring some lemonade to you. The day has proved rather hot, I fear, even though we had the nicest, most cooling rain yesterday.”
“That is very kind of you, my lord,” Miss Ambers said.
“Thank you. Well, good hunting.” He inclined his head to Evelina, then turned his horse about and headed in the direction of the house.
Evelina watched him go and had the most ridiculous impulse to call him back, to beg him to stay for a few minutes. She hated that he had remained but so short a time. Good heavens. When had this happened, she wondered, that she had developed so strong a taste for his society? Any number of warnings rang in her head like a set of powerful church bells. It was one thing to kiss a man and to enjoy his kisses but quite another to actually prefer his company to that of any other gentleman of her acquaintance, particularly when he was a man whom she knew not to trust.
A few minutes later, Rotherstone’s servants arrived with pitchers of lemonade and glasses for everyone. Evelina realized that in their haste to uncover the treasure, they had given little thought to how hot the day might prove or how long their search might actually be.
The lemonade was welcomed by all, but it was Mr. Crookhorn, returning with Mr. Fuller from their northerly jaunt, who spoke aloud the thoughts of all. “I would never have believed Rotherstone would be so kind.” He removed his hat and wiped his sleeve over his forehead. His curly brown hair stood straight on end and gave him the look of a porcupine in full quill.
“It was very good of him,” Miss Ambers said, taking great pains not to notice Mr. Crookhorn’s hair.
Evelina had to bite her lip and turn away.
“I wish there was more sugar in it,” Miss Rewell complained, staring into her glass.
Her brother rolled his eyes. “You ought to be glad there isn’t, or are you hoping to lose another tooth?”
Poor Miss Rewell had already lost two, and these words served to send her in the boughs. “How could you say such a thing to me when you know how I have suffered.”
“Cook told you how it would be, eating all those biscui
ts and sweetmeats. It is only a wonder you have even one tooth left.”
Evelina could see that a sibling quarrel of no small proportions had just been engaged. “So tell me, Mr. Crookhorn,” she said loudly, “what were you hoping to discover by traveling up the stream?”
He took up her hint and, with a glass of lemonade in hand, moved to the map that the servant supported in his arms. “Mr. Fuller and I noticed that there were several marks on the map running in that direction, and we were curious as to whether there might be some geographical reason for it, a line of stones or trees or something.”
“And what did you discover?”
He grimaced. “Nothing to signify. There were three oak trees on the hill, which you can see from here, but beyond that nothing that might correspond to the markings, of which there are five.”
Evelina also drew near the map. “Can anyone tell me which direction we should go?” She turned around and gestured to the diverging paths, the upper path leading in the direction of Blacklands and the lower path toward the gatehouse.
This afforded the entire party an opportunity to scrutinize the map as well as the two paths. The elder Mr. Rewell, having finished his lemonade, settled his hands on his hips. “I would think the lower, because if I am not mistaken, the upper path is of more recent origin.”
“How can you tell?” Miss Ambers queried.
“There are not nearly as many trees along the upper path as the lower, leading me to conclude that several may have been downed to cut the path.”
“As reasonable a deduction as any of us could imagine,” Sir Alfred said. “Well, shall we then explore the lower path?”
“What exactly are we looking for?” Mr. Fuller said. His sharp blue eyes were a trifle red-rimmed and deeply shadowed, quite telling signs of his vices.
Evelina gestured to the map. “This well,” she said, pointing to a drawing of a stone well. “From there I believe we are to locate within thirty yards a marker of some sort, perhaps indicated in one of the riddles, that will give us the location of the treasure.”
“It cannot be far,” Lady Monceaux said.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Huggett said. “The map is so clear. We must be close.”
Evelina smiled. “That is certainly my hope.”
The party marched in a single line along the lower, more established path. Mr. Rewell and Mr. Fuller occasionally searched the areas alongside the path, but before anything of merit had been seen or discovered, Miss Ambers, at the head of the column, called out, “We have reached the avenue leading to the house.”
A groan of dismay rippled through the length of the line.
The next several hours were spent scrutinizing the vicinity from the avenue back to the creek in an ever-widening path of search, with the hope that some sign of an old well had been missed. Alas, by the time the sun was well on the wane, and more than one of the party was irritable for a need of nourishment, nothing of significance had been discovered. The party returning to Wildings was hot, tired and discouraged.
Fortunately, Lady Chelwood had had the foresight to have an array of food ready for the treasure seekers as soon as they arrived. By the time the weary searchers reached the long gallery, Will announced the treat in store for them. Once in the morning room, a feast was laid out, including refreshing ale for the gentlemen and peach ratafia for the ladies. The map was set up on an easel, and while everyone feasted on cold meats and a platter of fruit, each member took a turn once more studying the map.
“The answer must lie in the riddles,” Sir Alfred said.
Evelina held her plate of food in hand and studied the old map. She was about to suggest that the party spend some time in trying to interpret the riddles, but she glanced about and saw so much fatigue writ in every expression that she held her tongue. Instead, she suggested that she confer again with Mr. Creed and set another date, Monday following the assemblies, when they might try again.
Not a single person objected, and she knew she had put forth the right plan.
Within half an hour, the carriages and horses were brought round that had delivered the party to Wildings. A few minutes more and the house was quiet again, save for Will begging to be permitted on the next hunt.
***
Chapter Eight
“I am shocked,” Rotherstone said facetiously. “You did not find Jack Stub’s treasure yesterday? Incredible. And after an entire afternoon’s search.”
“Must you crow so loudly?” Evelina said.
Yes,” Rotherstone stated, guiding her to the morning room, where Mr. Creed would soon join them. “For I remember quite distinctly that you appeared completely confident of success.”
“In that you are utterly mistaken—merely hopeful.”
He lifted a brow.
“Well, perhaps I did believe were we to search your land during the day, we would find the old well. If you recall, the well indicates the location of the treasure.” She huffed a sigh. “You must not come the crab, my lord. I am excessively disappointed. “
He merely laughed. “I see you have brought your map.”
Upon entering the morning room, Evelina saw that Mr. Creed had already arrived. She immediately spread the map out on the sideboard and told him all that had transpired, the exact route that had been explored as well as Mr. Crookhorn and Mr. Fuller’s exploration of the area to the northwest in hopes of explaining the slashing lines on the left side of the map.
Mr. Creed laughed. “I am persuaded these marks were a result of cleaning the quill and nothing more.”
At that, Evelina burst out laughing. “Oh dear. And Mr. Fuller was breathing quite raggedly when he returned to us. I do not think he is used to so much exertion. He will not like being told he played the fool.”
“No man does,” Mr. Creed responded sagely.
“I suppose I have but one question, Mr. Creed. Was there ever a well on this portion of Blacklands?” She ran a hand over the southwest corner of the estate. “Or did we not cover a wide enough terrain during our search, although we were there for hours?”
Mr. Creed examined the map carefully. “As to a well, I never knew of one in that vicinity, nor do I recall my grandfather speaking of one, and he served as a stable boy on Blacklands and was later head groom. If there is a well, I cannot say where it might be.”
“What do you recommend we do next?” she asked.
Mr. Creed thought for a long moment. “That you try again and do as you have said: extend your pattern of search to encompass a larger area. At the same time, set one or two persons to reviewing these riddles. Who can say what would have been in Jack Stub’s mind when he wrote them, but there is a meaning, of that I am sure.”
With that, Evelina felt she had to be content. “The entire group is anxious to begin again on Monday. Will that suit both of you?” When they agreed, she thanked Mr. Creed, who bowed and quit the chamber.
Rotherstone walked with her to the entrance hall and asked politely if she would care to stay to tea. She declined his offer. “For if you must know, Mama is permitting Euphemia to attend the assemblies tomorrow evening and she insists that I be with her when the seamstress comes this afternoon.”
“Is this a first assembly then?”
Evelina nodded.
“Then she will want you near.”
Evelina glanced up at him and saw an expression of understanding in his dark eyes. She wondered about him for the hundredth time. How could a man with so dreadful a reputation have such moments of real sympathy and comprehension? She was utterly mystified, but rather than succumb to her ever-present tendre for him, she chose to remind herself that the man who appeared so kind in this moment was also the man who had only acquiesced to the treasure hunt when she agreed upon demand to part with three things of great value to her. She wondered when he would make the first demand of her but decided not to ask. There was no sense in reminding him of their agreement.
“Have you decided whether or not you mean to attend the assemblies?” she asked
.
He shrugged faintly. “Sir Edgar is not yet certain what he wishes to do, but whatever his decision, I shall abide by it.”
“I would imagine it would be no easy thing for him to attend.”
“Not by half, but the knowledge that Miss Ambers has defended him publicly may in the end have a happy effect.”
“I shall choose to be sanguine,” she returned, “and hereby express a hope that I shall see you both tomorrow evening.”
He smiled and bowed but said nothing more.
With that, Evelina returned to her gig and made her way back to Wildings. If more than once her heart turned over at the mere possibility of dancing with Rotherstone, she ignored such musings. She could have no real interest in him, after all. On the other hand, what harm could there possibly be in a dance or two?
* * * * * * * * *
The following evening, Evelina went down her favorite country-dance with George Fuller. He was already half-foxed but danced so proficiently that he never once missed his steps. He laughed a lot, a circumstance that kept everyone around him amused, Evelina no less so.
She had arrived an hour earlier, and for much of the time betwixt, her gaze had shifted again and again to the entrance whenever a new guest would appear. A half hour past she had given up pretending that she was looking for someone other than Rotherstone.
She had dressed with greater care than usual. Even now, she admitted as much to herself. She should not have given a jot what Rotherstone would think of her new gown of light green patterned silk trimmed in Brussels lace, or of her long red curls piled atop her head and dotted with small white roses, or of the pearl and diamond earrings her mother had lent her. Yet so she did.
Would he come? Had she had any affect on him in the past sennight? Yet what useless thoughts these were, when he was a man not to be trusted.
Thus she had been tormenting herself.
Just as the set was drawing to a close, Evelina again glanced at the entrance to the rooms and saw that Lord Rotherstone and Sir Edgar had indeed decided to attend the assemblies. So shocking was the occasion, however, that at least two of the musicians simply stopped playing altogether and more than half the dancers ceased moving in midstep, causing several collisions. Fortunately, a few seconds more brought all the musicians to the end of the piece, otherwise there might have been a serious injury.
