Tomorrow's Treasure (15 page)

“What happened to the rich fool?” Curate Brown studied the small class when Evy had finished reading.

Milt held up his hand. “He built himself bigger barns to hold it all. No sooner did he have himself a pile, then he up and croaked. He left it all in the barn and never saw it again.”

“Just like Lady Chantry,” Tom whispered, grinning at Evy. “You know where she went? Deep down below!” He used a deep, baritone voice to say this. He winked, and everyone chuckled except Evy.

“You should not talk so flippantly, Tom,” Evy said. “You are gleeful about Lady Honoria's passing because she had so much and you have so little. But you should feel sorry for Arcilla, Parnell, and Rogan Chantry. How would you like to lose your mum?”

“Little Miss Vicar,” Tom teased.

“She feels more sorry for Rogan, don't you, Evy?” Alice Tisdale's strawberry-blond hair was wrapped around her head in a braid. Her skin was sallow, and her small mouth puckered. Tom once said she looked as though she had been weaned on a sour pickle.

Evy blushed at Alice's taunt, and the other girl looked positively gleeful that shed made Evy uncomfortable.

Derwent came to Evy's rescue. “Lady Honoria was a kind and Christian woman. She always came to Sunday services when she was feeling well. It seems her faith in Jesus was more than doing church rituals”—he fixed Alice with a hard stare—“which is more than I can say for others.”

When Alice turned away, her cheeks a bright pink, Evy gave Derwent a grateful smile. Rogan wasn't the only one who could be protective. Perhaps life with Derwent would not be so boring, after all.

Three weeks after Honoria Chantry's funeral, Evy watched as Aunt Grace sat in the small rectory office, poring over a pile of papers. Were they debts? Evy wasn't sure, but she had noticed of late that Aunt Grace was mulling over many concerns, far more than the servants' gossip. Maybe Uncle Edmund's health had something to do with her aunt's worries. He had a heart condition that Dr. Tisdale was treating and, after the funeral, had taken to bed with angina. He was still in a weakened condition, so it had been left to the curate, Mr. Brown, to give the Sunday sermons in the chapel.

Toward the end of November, Sir Lyle left Grimston Way for Dover to board a ship for faraway Capetown. Rumor had it that he was to see his stepbrother, Sir Julien Bley. Would he also see Anthony Brewster? Maybe he was trying to bring him and Lady Camilla back together again.

Later Alice Tisdale claimed that Arcilla had needed a long bed rest. “Arcilla's even more unhappy now that her Papa has left. She doesn't improve.”

“How do you know?” Evy asked as they walked to the classroom where Curate Brown Waited.

A look of smug pride came to Alice's face. “Lady Camilla asked my father if he would send me up to Rookswood to be a companion to
Arcilla. Of course, since I'm the daughter of the village doctor, I'm considered quite suitable. I went last week to read to Arcilla. The house is so grand. Her room is pink and white, and she has dozens of slippers and frocks.” Alice's mouth turned up at the corners. “I even saw Rogan and Parnell. They both spoke to me. ‘Good morning, Miss Alice,' Parnell said.”

“Indeed? Did you faint dead away?”

Alice's smile vanished. Her eyes turned hard. “You're jealous, Evy. And you the vicar's niece, too. You should be better than the rest of us. That's what my mama says.”

Your mama says too much about everyone
, Evy wanted to tell her, but of course she did not. Alice would run home and tell Mrs. Tisdale, who would then come calling on Aunt Grace.

Besides, Alice was right. Evy
should
be nicer than Alice because her parents had been missionaries and because her uncle was the vicar. She tried to control her tongue thereafter, but trying hard in her own strength did not always work.

When she got home that day, Evy found Aunt Grace in the vicar's office and told her about Arcilla Chantry growing worse.

Aunt Grace leaned back against the desk. “I daresay it has not been easy on her, poor child. Losing her mother, and now Sir Lyle has left for Cape.”

“Mrs. Croft says it seems like a curse is on Rookswood. Another death in the family would convince her it was so.”

“Nonsense.”

“Aunt, who is Master Henry?”

Aunt Grace looked at her sharply. “Why do you ask?”

“Some people say he killed himself.”

Aunt Grace yanked off her apron and threw it down on the chair. “I'm going to have a talk with Mrs. Croft.”

“It—It really was not Mrs. Croft, but Lizzie.”

“Ah, yes, the all-knowing eyes and ears at Rookswood.” Aunt Grace sighed, seeming to forfeit any hope of stopping the gossip, and sank tiredly into the chair. “There is no big secret, Evy. Master Henry
Chantry was the squire's brother. He came to Rookswood from Capetown after the Zulu War. He fought in the battles. I think he was quite heroic, but I never met him. He was here in Grimston Way only about a year before he … he met with an accident. Now, enough chatter. I'm taking the jingle out to see Miss Armitage. Want to come with me? Better bring your hooded cloak, dear.”

“Yes. Is … Was Master Henry Rogan's blood uncle?”

“Yes. He was somewhat of an explorer in South Africa. He was fairly wealthy, and he never did remarry after his wife Caroline died on one of his expeditions. He favored Rogan and left him everything he owned.”

Evy thought of the diamonds, the Black Diamond. Was that how Master Henry made his money? She did not dare mention that to her aunt.

“That means Rogan is going to be a very wealthy man one day, doesn't it?”

Aunt Grace nodded. “Since he will receive a great inheritance from his father as well, yes.” She looked over at her husband's desk, where she'd been going over some papers. The mention of money seemed to deepen the worry lines around her eyes. “Ah, well.”

Toward the holidays an event took place that changed Evy's life. It was December, and some of the ladies were helping plan for the Christmas festivities at the rectory. Aunt Grace was teaching Evy to weave pine boughs for the garland that would decorate the chapel, and Mrs. Croft was telling the sexton in a low voice to put more pine boughs in the cemetery on the grave of Lady Honoria—“and some on the gate for the late great gentleman, Master Henry Chantry.”

At the mention of Master Henry, Evy looked up, breathing in the pungent fragrance of pine. She had not forgotten what Mrs. Croft said about a curse on Rookswood, or that it somehow centered around Master Henry's death. The idea of a curse was just superstition; Evy knew it was foolish, but Mrs. Croft wanting her husband to add extra
pine to the gate in memory of Henry Chantry's death convinced her that Mrs. Croft did not think so.

“Better to appease Master Henry,” Evy heard Mrs. Croft whisper to her husband.

The tall, thin sexton nodded and ambled away from the rectory yard in the direction of the church cemetery.

Evy stood, about to follow him, intending to ask about Master Henry. But just then the Chantry coach rolled up, as sleek, black, and shiny as anything Evy had ever seen. Mr. Bixby, the footman, always shined it with a cloth, and the yard boy polished the wheels.

Everyone ceased what they were doing, as though royalty had just arrived from London. All eyes were on Mr. Bixby as he climbed down from the drivers seat, his shoulders straight and head high, then opened the coach door.

Though everyone knew Lady Camilla sat inside, they stared at the coach door, breath held, waiting.

Lady Camilla stepped down from the carriage, holding Mr. Bixby's arm. She was gowned in many yards of black satin, and her skin look like purest ivory.

She is prettier than I thought.
Evy admired the woman's golden hair, which was so artfully arranged. Her large eyes were the color of slate, and Evy started when they looked directly at her.

Her heart jumped.
Why is she staring at me like that?

“Good afternoon, Vicar. Mrs. Havering.” Lady Camilla's smile was gentle. “I should like to speak with you in the rectory, if you have a few minutes to spare?”

Naturally everyone had minutes to spare for Lady Camilla Montieth Brewster, but Evy thought it rather gracious of her to ask rather than expect everyone to stop what they were doing.

“By all means, Lady Camilla, how good to see you.” Uncle Edmund's smile was genuine.

“We were just about to have afternoon tea,” Aunt Grace told her with an equally charming smile, and Evy had the clear impression that her aunt liked Lady Camilla.

“Mrs. Croft and Evy have baked fresh scones. I do believe they made your favorite, lemon curd.”

Camilla looked over at Evy, and Evy smiled. When Lady Camilla looked quickly away, Evy felt her smile slip.
Is there something about my appearance that bothers her?

She noticed there was no one else inside the carriage. Rogan must have stayed at Rookswood with Parnell. Parnell had been allowed to return to a prestigious school he attended in London after his mother's death, and was now home for the Christmas holidays. Rogan was to join him at school after the New Year. It would seem a little more deserted once they were gone to London. Evy often saw Rogan riding by on his horse. He would glance her way, pretending not to see her, but she knew he did. Once he had slowed down, but then had ridden on toward the woods, his dog close behind.

Something important must have brought Lady Camilla to see the vicar. Evy decided to help Mrs. Croft bring the tea tray and platter of warm scones into the rectory parlor. Afterward she lingered, hoping to hear what was said.

“I daresay, Vicar, I am at wits' end with worry,” Lady Camilla was saying in her quiet voice. “I simply must try everything if Arcilla is to be cheered up. My husband's uncle, the squire, left me in charge of Rookswood and the children while he is away in Capetown. You did receive my message about Miss Evy?”

Evy's gaze swerved to Lady Camilla.

Uncle Edmund placed one hand at his heart. “I can assure you that my niece is a very sensible girl and will cause you no undue difficulty.”

“Evy is at the top of the curate's class,” Aunt Grace added. “Mrs. Tisdale, the good doctor's wife, also assures me Evy has a great love of and gift for music. It is our ambition to send her to Parkridge Music Academy when she is older.”

What was this about? Evy's heart beat faster with anticipation.

“Yes, your niece seems a lovely girl,” Lady Camilla was saying as though Evy were not standing right there. “She is quite sensible, indeed, Vicar, I'm well aware of that. I have noticed her in Sunday service. Very
well behaved; she is not a little runabout. I have heard no ill talk of her in the village.”

Had Lady Camilla been inquiring about her?

“Naturally, everything will depend on what Arcilla thinks. It was a great disappointment to me when she became displeased with Miss Alice. You do know how children fuss and quarrel so. Arcilla sent Alice home last week in tears. Alice has since apologized to Arcilla, but Arcilla has refused to let her visit.” She looked at Evy for the first time, and it seemed Lady Camilla's eyes were bright and inquisitive. “Arcilla is willing to have Miss Evy come in Alice's place. Arcilla is very careful about her acquaintances, as you know.”

“I daresay,” Aunt Grace replied as expected of her.

“If they do get along as I am hoping, I, too, shall be very pleased.”

Evy's heart quavered. Rookswood. She was going up to Rookswood, just as the stranger in Grimston Wood had said she might!

Aunt Grace did not look as pleased as Evy would have expected. Her hands were interlocked on her lap and her knuckles were white.

When Lady Camilla departed, Aunt Grace laid a hand on Evy's shoulder. “Dear, I need to discuss this with your uncle in private. Can you help Derwent with the Christmas boughs?”

“Yes, of course.”

But as Evy left the parlor, she caught her aunt's quiet question to her husband.