A Heart's Treasure (10 page)

“He would’ve had to have been very caught up in his digging to not note that someone—particularly someone in skirts—was lying atop this bough,” Xavier commented. “His head might have touched the branch should he have chosen to stand directly beneath it.”

Summer stood on tiptoe, extending her arm for the card, which was wedged into a split in the bark. However, it was placed just out of her reach. Xavier leaned over her, causing her to fit, for a moment, into the curve of his body as he grasped the card and pulled it free.

Genevieve watched, her smile all of a sudden fading, as that strange new prickle tingled again, now just behind her ears. She saw as Summer shyly smiled her thanks up at Xavier, watched their fingers touch as the card transferred from one hand to the other, saw them exchange a few murmured words, words she couldn’t quite hear for the prickling had become a buzzing in her ears.

Oh!
she heard a voice, an inner, troubled voice, call out. What was happening between these two? Had Xavier recognized Summer’s worth; had he discovered the treasure that Michael seemed not to appreciate as he ought? A host of impressions slid into a reasonable order, making sense of what had not made sense before.

Suddenly Genevieve was aware someone was speaking to her. She shook off her shock, and turned to find Haddy looking at her, expecting a response.

“I’m sorry! I…I was woolgathering. What did you say?”

“The card,” he pointed at the playing card Summer grasped. “I said, it’s another spade, the ace. An ominous card, eh?”

“Quite,” Genevieve replied, a hand pressed to her stomach. She considered, and murmured, “The death card.”

“Well, that’s appropriate, isn’t it? Given the girl’s grave is presumably under this very tree.”

Genevieve nodded, unable to find anything to say. She certainly didn’t wish to reveal by word or deed the confusion that filled her. The death card? Could the token be eerily accurate, pronouncing the beginning of the end of Michael’s bet
rothal to Summer? Could the girl’s affection be sliding to a man who was, finally, ready to be attentive to a woman… Could Xavier be attracted not to Genevieve at all, but Summer?

Chapter 6

You may drive out nature with a pitchfork, yet she’ll

be constantly running back.

—Horace,

Epistles

“The token has been found. I believe the next clue goes to Penelope and myself,” Kenneth announced, drawing Genevieve free of her uncomfortable thoughts.

A brief, warm breeze stirred the leaves of the apple trees over their heads, casting uneven light to dapple the familiar blue paper Kenneth produced. As before, he checked the writing to be sure it was the proper one. Satisfied, he moved to Penelope’s side, looking down at her. “What say you, since you are in the unhappy position of being my partner and having to solve the riddle by yourself? Will you see through one of my clues as easily as Xavier has?”

Penelope scarcely looked at Kenneth, giving only a minute nod to the man. “I suppose I must,” she said rather tartly. Genevieve found her friend’s coolness strange.
Is everyone in a peculiar mood today?

Kenneth didn’t seem particularly disturbed at his partner’s answer. “I’m afraid so, as I already know the answer. But, remember, if you are wrong, only
I
shall pay the forfeit. And I assure you, starting with this clue, there will now be forfeits to pay in addition to not receiving the token.”

“Ahh!” Laura cried, looking pleased. “Forfeits? Do we get to choose what they shall be?”

Kenneth reached into the other pocket of his dun-colored jacket and produced a small velvet bag with a drawstring. He hefted it, presenting it to them. “The penalties are within. Penelope will draw for me, should I be so unfortunate as to have to pay a forfeit.” He turned back to her, eyes imploring in over-acting earnestness. “Fair lady, will you save me from a punishment?”

Perhaps Penelope’s mouth turned up just a little, but her gaze remained stern. “We shall see.”

Kenneth heaved a sigh. “Read on. We must know our destination, that we might travel on.”

Penelope made a face, probably disapproving of the thought of returning to the carriage, but opened the note to read:

“‘In 1519 we were burned.

Because of the prayer our children learned.

’Twas not in Latin, but our tongue

We wished it taught to them, our young.’”

Penelope looked up, a frown settling between her brows as she silently read the clue to herself a second time.

“Oh dear,” Kenneth said, his hand going to his breast as his eyes danced with mock alarm. “Your expression doesn’t bode well for me. Have you no guess at all?”

Penelope’s expression warmed to a kind of amused dismay to match Kenneth’s. “I must admit I’ve no notion what this could mean,” she said. She tilted her head back and forth a couple times, as if to dislodge an answer from her brain. “Well. I know we are traveling north, so I may as well guess what town might be our next target… Banbury?” When Kenneth shook his head, she offered a second guess, “Warwick?”

“Ah-ah! That’s two guesses,” Laura cried, sounding very like what she was, the oldest among them.

“Forfeit!” Haddy cried.

“Forfeit,” Laura echoed, obviously delighted by her brother’s misfortune. They were joined by the others in the entourage for a third cry of “Forfeit.”

“Foiled by my own cleverness, it seems,” Kenneth cried dramatically, pulling the sides of the drawstring purse apart so that the top gaped open. “If you will, please,” he said to Penelope, offering the bag to her, balanced on his palm. Her fingers fumbled in the small opening for a moment. “I have gotten more than one,” she murmured, but finally she produced one small piece of folded paper.

“Oh, do read it aloud,” Laura urged.

“‘Your forfeit,’” Penelope read, giving Kenneth a quick apologetic glance. “‘As the parties are required to walk or ride, they shall do so backward, for the following hour, commencing at once.’”

“Oh, I do like that one, Kenneth,” Laura crowed.

Penelope covered her face with both hands for a moment, but let them drop to give Kenneth a little grimace. “You must be most annoyed to have put yourself in such a situation,” she said with her former coolness erased and obvious regret to Kenneth. “I wanted to appear brilliant and protect you from paying a forfeit. Instead I’ve condemned you to disgrace.”

“In point of fact, I feel enormous relief to know I have managed to obtain this particular forfeit and not some of the others.”

The possible nature of other such forfeits made for lively speculation despite the heat as they retreated from among the trees, but not so lively the group forgot to insist that Kenneth walk backward, much to their amusement.

“You are a cruel lot,” he informed them after tripping over a root, an action that almost sent him to the ground. Only Xavier’s quickly outstretched hand saved him from a dusting. “I shudder to think how loud the gales of laughter would be, should I happen to take a real tumble and break my neck.”

“I recommend you stay clear of any riverbank,” Laura said with a gleam in her eye.

The parties didn’t try very hard to hide their grins, and Genevieve saw from the corner of her eye that Summer shared a laugh with Xavier as she strolled along on his arm.
Truth is, they do look well together, he dark of hair and she as light as may be…

As they neared the carriages, Haddy moved forward of the group, obviously intent on re-harnessing the horses. Xavier murmured to Summer, who removed her hand from his arm so he was free to join his friend at the necessary task. Genevieve watched him walk away, his legs taking long strides with an easy grace, but then she turned to observe Summer.

She knew a sense of relief and a curiously reassuring doubt of her previous conclusions, for Summer crossed at once to where Michael still rested beneath his hat. The beauty nearly collided with a backward-stepping Kenneth, reaching out a hand to touch his arm in warning as she cried out, “Don’t tread on Michael.”

Michael sat up at once, his hat tumbling to the grass, even as Kenneth came to an abrupt halt, looking over his shoulder to see that he’d been about to do just that.

“I say!” Michael scolded, lifting the hem of his jacket to see if any footprints now resided there. He dusted at the dark green fabric with the back of his hand, scowling.

“It’s not really Kenneth’s fault,” Summer soothed. “He’s paying his forfeit, you see. He must proceed backward for the next hour.”

“And must watch and see he doesn’t trample people, I should say,” Michael huffed.

Kenneth merely grinned, offering no apology on his own behalf. “Time to wake up anyway, Yardley. It’s now your team’s turn to make a correct guess, or else—as I myself do now—suffer a forfeit.”

“Ah, at last a chance to show true genius at work,” Michael said, coming to his feet. He bent to retrieve his hat, which he settled on his head as he announced, “Very well. I’m ready to show all of you how to solve a riddle.”

“Here then, Summer, you still have the last clue? Please give it to Genevieve, and she can read it to her partner.”

Genevieve made a point of insisting that Michael ready his watch, so the moment she’d read the prepared clue for his sake, their ten-minute allowance for a guess would begin at once.

“‘
In 1519 we were burned.

Because of the prayer our children learned.

’Twas not in Latin, but our tongue

We wished it taught to them, our young,’
” she read it through again, then crooked her neck to mark the time on her brother’s watch. “So, Michael. Where do you suppose this occurred? I declare I have no notion myself.”

“I’m about to prove I was not asleep during every Antiquities class I was forced to endure. Seems to me we must be speaking of the Lollards here.”

“The Lollards?” Haddy asked, approaching the group. “Carriages are ready,” he interjected into the conversation, making a motion with his thumb over his shoulder, but then returned to the former subject without a pause. “Weren’t they a group of religious types who wanted everyone to cut off their hands and poke out their offending eyes, and all such as that?”

“Bible literalists, yes.” Kenneth nodded. “In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.”

“I can see by the light in Kenneth’s eyes that we are on the proper track here,” Genevieve pointed out, pleased. “But what city?”

Michael put his hand to his chin. “That is a puzzler. I remember something about... I think it was that some townsfolk didn’t wish to make their children learn the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, and so the church up and burned ’em all.”

“Also the Ten Commandments. And it was seven craftsmen who objected,” Kenneth supplied. He reached up to run a hand through his hair, but was stopped by his hat, so he settled on tipping it further back on his head. His eyes glowed with the enthusiasm of a gamester. “But in what
town
did this take place?”

Brother and sister stared at each other. “I don’t know. Have you a guess?” Genevieve turned to Kenneth. “Guesses count if they’re correct, do they not?”

“They better count, or we’ll be at this the rest of our lives,” Haddy grumbled.

Kenneth swept a hand from his waist, palm up, a kind of shrug. “Very well, guesses count,” he conceded.

“We know from Penelope’s missed guesses,” Genevieve threw the lady an apologetic glance as she spoke to Michael, “that Banbury and Warwick are incorrect.”

“I never said Warwick was incorrect,” Kenneth put in.

“Well, is it or isn’t it?”

“Is that your guess?”

“Kenneth,” Haddy growled, pointing at Michael’s pocketwatch to emphasize the passing of time.

Kenneth sighed. “In the interest of saving daylight, I will concede the information this one time. Warwick is
not
correct.”

“Very well then. Not Warwick, but assuredly we head up into Warwickshire. What other cities or towns do you know of in that county?” Michael asked his sister.

“Stratford.”

“Possible,” he murmured. “Oh, and there’s that other place… It starts with a ‘K.’ Kenilton? Kenilsby?”

“Kenilworth?”

“Yes, that’s the one.” But Michael shook his head. “Though I know for a fact Kenilworth’s not on the larger road. I think we would all be happier if we stayed on the better roads. And I’m going to assume Kenneth, clever fellow that he is, has thought of that as well. Ahh, there’s that one city…its name is right on the tip of my tongue. Oh, you know it, Genevieve. You spent half the summer there a year or two back, with that little redheaded friend of yours—”

“Hetta?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well then, you must mean Coventry. With a ‘C’, not a ‘K.’”

“Exactly,” Michael said dismissively. “I think that would be our best bet.” He spun to face Kenneth. “We guess Coventry.”

Kenneth inclined his head. “Quite right. Though I must say it’s a good thing for you that guesses are allowed.”

“Oh, who could know anything from that clue you gave us?” Laura said, waving her hand in the air as though to fan away the possibility.

“A scholar?” Kenneth suggested archly, handing a playing card—the six of hearts—to Michael, who granted possession of it to Genevieve.

“Or perhaps only those who must walk backward,” Laura responded, and was rewarded by a dark look from her brother and a chortle from Haddy.

Kenneth pulled down the front of his waistcoat with a firm tug. “Enough. We’ve our destination, so let us away before the horses get too restless.”

* * *

The ladies had piled back inside the carriage, uttering various remonstrations against the familiar heat of the day. A quick glance inside the coach, from where Xavier rode on horseback, showed the women stood on no ceremony, quick to remove their gloves, shoes, and stockings for the time being. Xavier felt his gaze searching for a bit of Genevieve’s ankle…and quickly turned eyes forward, silently scolding himself for the impulse.

Haddy drove the ladies’ carriage, leaving poor Michael to swallow his dust as that gentleman maneuvered the second carriage. Kenneth, like Xavier, had chosen to ride, with Kenneth backward in the saddle, much to his chagrin. He marked the time on his watch, noting he only had thirty-seven more minutes to endure his forfeit. He made the gracious point of being on the right so that Xavier could easily see him as they talked back and forth.