Silent in the Sanctuary (31 page)

“This is a cosy scene,” I commented, drawing up a chair for myself. Florence protested with a growl, but I put out my tongue at her and she laid her head down again on Brisbane’s thigh, content to let him fondle her ears. He said nothing for a long moment. He simply sat, petting the pup’s silky head in long, supple strokes that never varied in their rhythm.

“You’ve very nearly put her to sleep,” I commented.

He raised his good shoulder in a shrug, careful not to disturb Florence as she dozed. “It would not be difficult. She has been drugged.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Lifting her carefully with his good hand, he settled her into her basket and tucked the fur tippet gently about her. She gave a little sound that might have been a purr had she been of another species, and settled in for a nap.

“What do you mean she has been drugged?”

“Some narcotic, perhaps laudanum as well, certainly an opiate. When I ducked in here, Morag mentioned she had trouble rousing the dog. I had a look at her, and when you consider what happened in this room, it is perfectly logical.”

It spoke volumes about the unconventional nature of our relationship that Morag did not question his presence in my room. Fortunately for me, Morag’s penchant for gossip was entirely one-sided. She might carry tales to me, but she was a gorgon when it came to protecting my privacy.

I suddenly realised what Brisbane had just said. “What happened in this room?”

“The theft of your pearls,” he said patiently. “Everyone knows Florence stays in your chamber. Anyone wishing to purloin the pearls would have come prepared to silence her. By the way, rather quick thinking out there with Charlotte. I was not so careful as I ought to have been,” he finished with a rueful grimace.

“You are welcome. But as I rescued you, I think I am owed a forfeit. Did you speak to William IV this morning?”

He made a moue of disgust. “I did. The boy doesn’t have the intelligence of a sponge. He swears blind he did not leave his post except to follow a ghost.”

I sat up quite straight. “A ghost? Did he describe it? Where did he see it?”

“At the far end of the nave, walking toward the vestry.”

I tipped my head to the side, considering. “Walking? Ghosts don’t walk.”

“This one did. Apparently it had a slow, lumbering gait, and the boy, after several minutes of terrified debate with himself, decided to follow it.”

“And?”

Brisbane shrugged. “It had disappeared. William searched the vestry, the cloister, even the kitchen passage, but it had vanished.”

I could have screamed in exasperation. “The fool! Did he not remember that the vestry has two doors, one from the cloister passage and the other directly beside the chapel?”

“No, not even when he returned to his post and discovered a bottle of brandy, with a tag neatly inscribed for Miss Emma and Miss Lucy.”

I groaned. “So close, and he did not have the wit to use the other door. It never occurred to him that the ghost was simply a ruse to lure him from his post?”

Brisbane shook his head. “I think if he had reasoned that out for himself, he might have been prudent enough not to drink from the bottle. He said he took a sizeable swallow or two, then sealed it up again and took it inside to the ladies. He returned to his post, and sitting down in his chair is the last thing he remembers until he awoke this morning in Aquinas’ bed. That required a bit of explaining as well,” he finished blandly.

I gave a great sigh and slumped back in my chair, drumming my fingers on the arm. “Sir Cedric’s room?”

“Nothing of interest. He has appalling taste in books, but other than that, I can find no crimes to lay at his door.”

“Pity,” I mused. “I think he would make a proper villain.”

Brisbane quirked one glossy black brow at me. “Have you not yet learned that villainy is not written on the face, but the heart?”

I said nothing for a long moment, thinking of my husband’s murderer, and the sweet, gentle face I had loved. At length I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

“What of your expedition to Charlotte’s room? What did you find?”

Brisbane gave me a bland smile. “Nothing.”

“Let me amend that. What did you hope to find?”

He paused, then looked at the fire. “I cannot say.” He glanced back at me. “You needn’t grind your teeth at me. I cannot say.”

“So be it. We will simply each of us have our secrets then.”

His eyes narrowed sharply. “Do not think of withholding anything from me. I am in deadly earnest, my lady. You were of use in the first investigation, I do not deny it. And I am keenly aware that his lordship has ordered your involvement this time. But do not think I mean to make you an equal partner in this. I work best alone.”

I blinked slowly at him, a trick I had learned from Portia. Most men find it devastatingly disarming.

“Have you something in your eye? A cinder perhaps?”

I sighed in disgust. “No. I am perfectly well.”

“And what did you discover in the lumber rooms? Did you search all of the bags?”

“Yes, captain,” I said, larding my voice with sarcasm. “And I found nothing in the other guests’ bags at all. They were empty as the tomb on Easter Sunday.” Quite deliberately I did not mention his bag. But then, he did not ask.

Brisbane quirked a brow at me in surprise. “It is not like you to blaspheme. Have you been gambling and keeping low company as well?”

“I have. I am toying with the notion of taking up hard drinking directly. Father has an excellent cellar.”

He stared at me a long moment, those astonishing black eyes searching mine. Finally, he shook his head. “You are up to something, but I cannot make out what and I do not have the time at present to compel you to speak.”

I snorted. “Compel me indeed! I think you know me better than that. I should like to see the man who could compel me to do anything I did not wish.” That little speech surprised even me. I had come far from the quiet little dormouse I had been before my husband’s death. Widowhood had been the making of me, I decided.

But before I could admire myself too thoroughly, Brisbane leaned forward in his chair, pinning me once again with his gaze, but softening it somehow, and in the process drawing me in until I could see myself reflected in the inky depths. There was something other-worldly about that gaze, something oblique and unspoken, and yet it held all the sensual promise of a courtesan’s smile.

“Do you not think I have other methods to compel you?” he murmured.

My corset felt suddenly too tight. My breath was coming far too quickly as I thought of what methods he might employ. Methods such as those he had used to such effect the previous night, perhaps? I felt dizzy at the prospect, and violet spots danced in front of my eyes. A dozen pictures flashed through my mind: Brisbane dragging me into his room in the low hours of the night, kissing me until I could not speak or think. I thought of my response to him, so unaffected, so impossible. I had always believed myself cold, unbreachable. And yet my defenses always fell to Brisbane, usually when he needed to breach them the most. How convenient for him, I thought bitterly.

My throat felt thick, and when I spoke, my voice was like honeyed whiskey. “Brisbane,” I said softly. Holding his gaze, I slid to my knees, coming to rest between his booted feet. I heard his breath catch, and a noise in the back of his throat that might have been a stifled groan.

I held up my own hand teasingly. “A question first, my lord.”

I dropped my hand to his boot top. It rested there a moment, my fingers just below the curve of his knee, before I slid it with deliberate, teasing slowness down the supple leather to his foot. He exhaled slowly through flared nostrils, his eyes never leaving mine.

Suddenly and without warning, I grabbed the boot hard and swung it up. He pulled back, swearing fluently in Gaelic, but I had caught him by surprise. I clamped onto the boot with both hands and held it.

“Your boots were wet last night when you dragged me into your room. That is why they were sitting on the hearth. And your greatcoat was draped over the armchair to dry. That is why you kissed me and then pretended to hear a ghost in the corridor. You thought I was coming to see you, and you could not afford for me to know what you had been about. You wanted to distract me so I would not realise you had been abroad in the night.”

He stopped cursing and lapsed into furious silence. I dropped the boot and resumed my chair, wiping my hands disdainfully on my skirts. The little skirmish had roused Florence and she sat up in her basket, weaving a little, but watching with interest, her ears pricked at a quizzical angle.

“I note you make no attempt to deny it. Very sensible.” I nodded toward his boots. “The watermarks are still present on the leather. You ought to have Aquinas tend to them before they are ruined, you know.”

Still he said nothing, the little muscle in his jaw twitching madly. Perhaps he thought to draw me out by his silence, to learn precisely what I knew by refusing to admit or deny anything himself.

Unfortunately, all that I knew I had already revealed. From the boots drying on the hearth and the faint smell of wet wool, I had deduced that he had left the Abbey some time after the snow had begun to fall. For what purpose, I could not imagine.

But as I stared at his lowering brow, his lips thinned with displeasure, I realised I did in fact have one more arrow in my quiver.

“Come, Brisbane, let us not quarrel. We must be friends again. I will tell you what I found in Mr. Snow’s room after you left, if you will tell me what you have done with Aunt Dorcas.”

To do a great right, do a little wrong.

If I expected Brisbane to reveal all, I was destined to be thwarted. He shot the cuff of his injured arm, studying his nails with affected nonchalance.

“I can only tell you what I have already told your father—your aunt is perfectly safe.”

I puzzled this over for a moment, not knowing quite where to begin. “That is impossible. You left no tracks in the snow.”

“I was back before the snow began to fall,” he said grudgingly. He did not like to explain the matter, that much was apparent. But perhaps he hoped a little information would throw me from the scent.

“Then how did your boots come to be wet?”

“I was careless. I stepped on a patch of ice. It was not fully frozen yet, and my boots broke through to the puddle beneath. The hem of my greatcoat was fully soaked.”

No matter how much I prodded, he told me nothing more, except to reassure me Aunt Dorcas was well. I was surprised at how much I worried for her. I had not thought myself fond of the old toad, but I would have been genuinely sorry if any ill had befallen her.

“Now,” he said severely, “what did you find among Snow’s things?”

I tipped my head to the side. “You still have not told me what you thought to find in Charlotte’s room.”

He fixed me with a stare so intent, I felt the room falling away, blackness creeping along the edges of my vision. I swallowed hard, sliding my gaze away from his. “Goodness, Brisbane, if Mesmer had had a stare like that he mightn’t have needed a pocket watch. Very well, you do not mean to tell me. I can guess for myself. You hoped to find the Grey Pearls in her room.”

His lids dropped and he reached a lazy hand to pet the dog. “And what led you to that conclusion?”

“A clever jewel thief would never have hidden the jewels in his own room. They might easily be discovered by a diligent servant. Now, anyone would realise there is no point to searching the Abbey—it is far too large and there are nooks and crannies and secret passages God Himself does not know of. Any of them might serve as a hiding place, but how much better to put the pearls in Charlotte King’s room and throw suspicion on her? If they were discovered among her things, she would have a difficult time explaining how she came by them. Jewels found in the public rooms of the Abbey carry a mystery with them, jewels found in Charlotte’s room breed a scapegoat. She might well be arrested and bound over for trial, and no one else would be under the slightest cloud of suspicion.”

“An interesting theory,” Brisbane said slowly. His fingers twitched, and I wondered if he was longing for his pipe. “Now, back to the matter of Snow’s room.”

My fingers went then to the small bundle still nestled in my pocket. I debated fiercely with myself about whether or not to disclose it. Finding it had been rather gratifying. I still did not know what it signified, but I did trust Brisbane to do what was best for my family. I did not believe Aunt Hermia had given the trinkets to Snow herself. Indeed, if I believed that I would have kept them and confronted her with the collection myself. But determined as I was to solve these little mysteries myself, there were few things I could refuse Brisbane.

I drew out the bundle and handed it to him. He turned it over, peering at the monogram worked in silk thread, the tiny design of flowers twining through the letters. After he had committed every detail of the handkerchief to memory, he untied it and took out the pieces one by one, turning them over and marking them carefully. When they had all been considered, he handed them back. I wrapped them and knotted the handkerchief, pocketing the little bundle.

“And you actually found these in Snow’s room?”

I nodded and said nothing.

“The handkerchief is, I suppose, Lady Hermia’s? And the jewels as well?”

“Yes. I asked Portia about them. She said Aunt Hermia kept them in a little pasteboard box on her night table.” Brisbane had begun to glower, so I hastened to reassure him. “You needn’t look so murderous. I did not tell her where I found them.”

His expression was thoughtful. “Snow did not arrive as a houseguest until yesterday, well after Lady Hermia departed the Abbey for London. A box of trinkets on her night table would be easy enough for anyone to pilfer. Snow, or another, had only to make certain the corridor was empty, creep inside and pocket the jewels. It is interesting to note that nothing of real value was taken.”

“The important pieces are all locked in Father’s safe or in the vault in the bank in London. Aunt Hermia keeps out only the things she wears often, those little baubles, a ruby brooch, a few rings, and her chains of sapphires. I am quite certain she would have taken those with her to London.”