An Adventurous Lady

by Valerie King

  An hour later, after platters of fruit, cheese and biscuits had been consumed, as well as a proper quantity of ratafia, lemonade and ale, the party gathered closely about the map once more. Each of the riddles was read aloud again.

  A variety of solutions were put forth as they had been before, but with little success. Colonel Carfax addressed the heart of the matter. “Other than the fact that we have not found a well at this location on Blacklands,” here he gestured to the map, “another difficulty arises in that there are no flat stones about this area of Rotherstone’s property that might fit this riddle: ‘Some stones flat, others tall, a bridge in death, to any wat fall.’ “

  Rotherstone suggested, “If you remove the riddle that would indicate the treasure had been buried on Blacklands, and ignoring the large X on the map as well, do the remaining riddles suggest another location?”

  The party fell silent. Miss Ambers read aloud all five riddles.

  Time is lost, a smuggler’s weary end, the world is upside down, walls that will not mend

  Devil’s Gate wat opens, black the land will be, down a path, a treasure ye will see

  Cross the stones, cross one to dare, pearl and gold within, small and rare

  Ye olde well, draws water deep, of ale and mead, made honey-sweet

  Some stones flat, others tall, a bridge in death, to any wat fall

  “How many wells are there in the vicinity of Maybridge?” the elder Mr. Rewell queried.

  “A score, no doubt,” Mr. Crookhorn responded. “One might as well ask how many stones there are.” He ran a hand through his thick, curly locks so that once more he looked like a porcupine. When Mia and Annabelle Rewell began giggling together, he rolled his eyes and said, “The deuce take my hair.”

  This set everyone to laughing. After a minute or so another lengthy discussion of the riddles ensued, resulting in no conclusions whatsoever as to where a new hunt for Jack Stub’s treasure ought to commence. Evelina could see that the party had grown weary. She watched Rotherstone confer quietly with Sir Edgar, after which both gentlemen rose to take their leave.

  First, however, Rotherstone begged to have a word with William. Evelina led the gentlemen to the garden, where the younger children were plotting out a large maze that Evelina had decided to create on a portion of the expansive grounds. William ran to the earl, exchanged a few words that Evelina could not hear and gave a shout of triumph.

  “We are to go fishing tomorrow,” he shouted.

  Evelina felt her heart expand as she looked at Rotherstone. “How kind of you. I am exceedingly grateful.”

  Time and place were arranged, after which the gentlemen took their leave.

  When Evelina returned to the drawing room, she found Sir Alfred standing before the map, shaking his head, his hands slung behind his back. “What a puzzle,” he said. Turning to Evelina, he added, “Well, well, I suppose you will want to speak with Mr. Creed again.”

  “Aye,” she responded, smiling, but she was feeling a trifle blue-deviled. “I will take the map to him again and see what next he recommends, but I will be very surprised if he suggests we once more comb this area of Blacklands.” She could not credit that with even a quite specific map, they had not yet located the treasure.

  Everyone rose and began gathering bonnets, hats and gloves, and the group slowly progressed to the entrance hall, a few stepping out of doors. Evelina had just expressed her enthusiasm to Lady Monceaux about several of her plans to decorate Colonel Carfax’s ballroom for his upcoming fete, when she overheard the colonel say, “I heard he recently lost over a thousand pounds at one of the East End gaming houses.”

  “That seems unlikely,” Mr. Rewell said. “I was at Brook’s a fortnight past, which Rotherstone frequents, and heard it bandied about that he will scarcely ever sit down to a game of cards, and when he does he always wins.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Fuller interjected, “but you have just described two very different establishments. Perhaps he means to give one appearance to the beau monde and another to a set of persons who do not give a fig for his birth and breeding.”

  Sir Alfred frowned. “Sounds like he’s following in his father’s footsteps, eh?” A silence fell among the group. Evelina noticed that an odd exchange of glances ensued. She felt uneasy.

  Next to her, Lady Monceaux had begun to frown quite deeply.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Evelina asked quietly. “Are you not well?”

  “I am perfectly fine, thank you.” She gave herself a shake. “The afternoon has been rigorous. I actually walked up and down more than one hill. At my age, ’tis not an easy thing. Ah, the carriages have arrived.” She bid Evelina good day and moved out of doors.

  After a few minutes, Evelina was left standing alone in the entrance hall. She felt utterly downcast, but she knew her lowness of spirit involved more than the fact that the treasure was still undiscovered. As she began to climb the stairs to her bedchamber, she recalled the discussion several of the gentlemen had had about Rotherstone. He recently lost over a thousand pounds at one of the East End gaming houses. She shuddered suddenly and clapped a hand over her mouth as though to hold back her thoughts and feelings.

  The sensation was so familiar. How many times had she learned that her own brother had lost a thousand or even two at some “hell” or other? She had heard Rotherstone went often to London, even to game, but until this moment she realized she had been forgetting this about him, or perhaps choosing to forget.

  She felt foolish and sick at heart. Was it true? Was it really true? And what had Sir Alfred meant that Rotherstone was following in his father’s footsteps?

  * * * * * * * * *

  On the following day, Evelina descended the stairs and burst out laughing.

  “Mama, whatever are you doing?” Her parent was spinning her Bath chair in circles in the large entrance hall.

  Lady Chelwood, her eyes shining, responded, “I only learned about an hour ago that I could do this. It takes some skill, but I am getting better.”

  Evelina drew on her gloves and chuckled a little more. Since the night of the assemblies, when she had been so chastened by Rotherstone’s insistence that she permit her mother to have her way, she had striven to continue allowing her parent to make her own decisions. Though she had been amused to see her mother twirling the chair in circles, she had still found it quite difficult to keep a stream of orders from passing her lips. She wanted her mother to cease her spinning, to take more care that she did not injure herself, to rest, to not exert herself overly much; in short, to be more of the invalid she knew her to be.

  At the same time, there could be no denying that her mother had been happier in the past three days since the assemblies than she had in the past twelvemonth.

  Of her own accord, her mother suddenly stopped. She was breathing hard but smiling. “Are you off to see Mr. Creed?”

  “I am,” Evelina returned, pushing each finger of her gloves snugly into place. She wore a walking dress of a serviceable blue calico, half boots of sturdy brown leather, a snug spencer of twilled dark blue stuff and a straw bonnet trimmed with crocheted lace and artificial silk bluebells.

  “Well, you look very pretty.”

  “Very pretty indeed,” Mia called from the doorway to the drawing room. “Will Rotherstone be with you when you discuss with Mr. Creed our unsuccessful hunt of yesterday?”

  Evelina knew what her sister was about and lifted her chin. “No, for if you have forgotten, he is fishing with Will in one of the trout streams this morning.”

  “I have every confidence,” Mia said, smiling broadly, “that if you were to take a very long time with Mr. Creed, his lordship would probably return in time to see you. After all, he will not want to be angling with William all day.”

  Evelina had thought as much herself, but she had also recollected yesterday’s account of Rotherstone’s gaming losses; consequently she was not so enthusiastic as she might have been. To her sister, she said, “You seem to have settled e
verything in your own mind on the subject, never once taking into account the possible feelings of your sister.”

  “I know my sister’s feelings even if she does not.”

  “Now you are being absurd, and I intend to leave.”

  Evelina did not hesitate but slipped past her mother, who had once more begun twirling in her chair. She opened the door and a fine summer’s breeze blew over her. She could not keep from smiling. Whatever her concerns, fears or even disappointments, there could be no disputing that the blue sky overhead was exquisite. She would have no need of either horse or carriage today. The weather was very fine and a walk to Blacklands, by way of the lanes, suited her to perfection.

  An hour later, she was seated in the morning room sipping a cup of tea that Mr. Creed had very kindly provided for her. He sat adjacent to her, the map this time spread before him on the table. He scowled and shook his head, grumbled over the five riddles, and shook his head a little more.

  “I was convinced from the first,” he said, tugging at his white hair just above his ears, “that Jack Stub was up to snuff. He no more would have made this map simple to follow than he would have cut off his other arm.”

  “Have you even the smallest notion what he meant by his riddles?”

  “Nay.” He sighed heavily. “I have thought on this map a score of times and more since first seeing it. Sometimes I feel that close to solving the mystery.” He held his fingers in a narrow pinch.

  “I have as well,” she confessed. “Though I brought the map today, I must say I have every portion of it memorized. I have even sketched in my mind the streams that are drawn on the map and their names.”

  He lifted his gaze from the document still protected by the velvet and smiled. “I see we have a similar mode of solving a problem. Do you know what intrigues me the most about these configurations?” He pointed to the map.

  Evelina leaned forward in her chair. “What?” she asked.

  He traced his finger over several of the waterways.

  “How Halling Stream when it enters River Rother intersects closely to Buckstee Stream here to the east. Then how Nettles Stream merges with the Buckstee and together—”

  Evelina interjected. “Together they form a striking S pattern. I noticed it as well. Indeed, I believe that Mr. Stub forgot that Buckstee and Nettles actually intersect. Rather, he drew Nettles in such a manner that it connects directly with the River Rother. Do you think that error in particular is of significance?”

  Mr. Creed sighed. “I cannot say. I suppose we will not know until the treasure is finally found.” He turned the map sideways so that east was now in a northern position. He turned it again and again, then righted it once more. “There must be something that we are not seeing.” He grew silent again, and set to studying the map further.

  Evelina’s attention drifted. As she sipped her now-cold tea, she thought about Rotherstone and wondered just how much time had elapsed thus far during her meeting with Mr. Creed. Surely, if she stayed much longer she would be forced to see Rotherstone before leaving Blacklands. Because she was still distressed by the most recent gossip about him, she realized she would rather not meet with him just yet.

  Another minute passed, then another. Suddenly, Mr. Creed threw back his head and laughed quite heartily. “I have it,” he said. “Or at least I think I do. By Jove, I believe I do.”

  Evelina’s heart jumped. “You do? Tell me at once.”

  He laughed again. “I fear you will despise me, but I cannot.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, aghast.

  “My master instructed me that if I ever solved it, I was not to inform you.”

  She was so shocked and dismayed that she sat back in her chair with a thump. “He cannot have said so. What manner of beast is he to have made such a wretched decree?”

  “I would agree ’tis very cruel. On the other hand, my lady, you have a keen intelligence, and I am persuaded that given a little more time you will discover the answer for yourself. I will give you a hint, though—concentrate on the shape of the streams and rivers.”

  She was so angry that she could hardly keep one proper thought fixed in front of another. All that seemed to dominate her mind was her desire to see Rotherstone put in the village stocks. What a vile man he was to have done this to her. And what of the others?

  She decided she could hardly say anything to her neighbors. She only wished Mr. Creed had not told her he had solved the mystery.

  She rose to her feet, thanked him crisply for the tea, rolled up the map and realized she had yet one more reason for being grateful his lordship had not returned from his fishing expedition with her brother. She rather thought that had she seen him in this moment, she would have boxed his ears.

  She quit the chamber, her head high and her entire being on fire with aggravation. She marched down the drive, the map securely beneath her arm and began scuffing at the rocks beneath her boots. She could not remember the last time she had been so angry.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Rotherstone whistled as he walked in a southeasterly direction on the circuitous lane that serviced both Blacklands and Wildings. He was returning from a summery fishing expedition with Lord William that he had enjoyed very much. His young friend had reminded him of happier times in his own childhood when he and his cousin, Colonel Carfax, would fish and hunt nearly every day.

  He realized he was happy in this moment, and there was no doubt in his mind that his present contentment had a great deal to do with his comings and goings at Wildings. He also knew that Lady Evelina would by now have finished conferring with Creed. He was also well conversed with the fact that she would only take the path connecting their properties if she had received prior permission from him. On this occasion, such permission had not been sought. He had every hope, then, of meeting her, particularly round the next bend, after which the lane straightened out for a considerable distance.

  He whistled more loudly still, competing with the incessant chatter of the sparrows, of which there must have been a thousand in the nearby woodland. A sound not far distant, however, caught his attention: a whelp, a scuffling and a frightened cry. He was running before he had ordered his boots to pick themselves up. As he rounded the bend, he saw a woman’s figure in blue rolling slowly into the deep, weed-strewn ditch that separated the lane and Blacklands. Her bonnet came off in the tumble and a shock of red hair bespoke her identity.

  “Evelina,” he shouted.

  He reached her within seconds, slid down the bank of the grassy ditch on his boots and turned her over. She was limp in his arms.

  “Evie,” he whispered to her, using her family’s pet name. “Darling, can you hear me?”

  He sat against one wall of the ditch, drew her onto his lap and propped his legs against the opposite wall in order to better support her. Her complexion was chalky, her red curls littered with leaves and debris, her eyes closed. He felt over her head, and his fingers were soon wet with blood.

  A sick feeling of panic came over him. “Evie,” he whispered urgently again. “Please, dearest, can you hear me? Evie, Evie? Please answer me.”

  Her eyelids began to flutter and several short and quite pitiful moans passed her lips. She began to struggle. “No, no, do not. Do not.”

  “Evelina, ’tis I. You are safe. Calm yourself.”

  At that, her eyelids flew open. “Gage,” she whispered. He watched as sudden tears streamed down her cheeks. “Is he gone?”

  “Indeed, he is,” he responded, holding her gently. “But he has done you injury. You are bleeding from your head.”

  “Yes. I remember now. I was walking toward home and I heard whistling. I smiled, thinking that the day was so lovely that of course any sensible person would be whistling. Suddenly, a blur of brown came out of the woods. I saw a small log. I know I cried out, then I was falling. The next thing I knew, I was struggling against you. Oh, my head hurts dreadfully.”

  “As it should. Hold still. Lean against my
shoulder and let me find my handkerchief.” She did as she was bid, and he tilted sideways in order to reach his pocket with his free hand. He found his kerchief and held it to her wound. She moaned anew.

  He cradled her for some few minutes and instinctively rocked her. Once in awhile he could hear her sniff.

  “The map,” she said suddenly. “Where is the map?” She sat up quickly and instantly regretted doing so and leaned back again. “Oh, my poor head. Only, Rotherstone, where is my map?”

  The ditch being quite deep, and seated as he was, he saw only what was along the length of it. “I do not see it. Perhaps it is on the road.”

  “I believe whoever hurt me wanted my map.”

  “Undoubtedly. Why else would you have been attacked?”

  “There can be no other reason.”

  “Come. I must take you home.”

  “I shall try to stand, with your help. I am persuaded I can walk, if I try.”

  He did not believe her, but he allowed her to sit up slowly and to gain her feet. She looked down and chuckled. “Do but look.” She pointed at the bottom of the ditch.

  The map was beneath his boots, dirty and partially torn. He reached down and picked it up.

  “Where is . . . the velvet. . . I had been using to . . . to protect . . . it?” Her voice sounded quite strange, as though she had spoken from a great distance.

  Fortunately, he glanced at her in time to watch her eyes roll in her head. She would have toppled over then and there but he caught her. Once more, she was entirely limp in his arms. He fought the tears that tightened his throat, and a wave of anger flowed over him so profound that had her assailant been within arm’s reach, he would not have been able to answer for his actions. The murderous rage that infected every limb had the happy effect of charging him with great strength and purpose. She felt as a feather in his arms. He climbed easily from the ditch and began a quick progress in the direction of Wildings, a full mile distant.

  His thoughts were varied as his boots ate up yard after yard of road. He was angry and frustrated. What would have happened to her had he not been nearby?