Tomorrow's Treasure (56 page)

Later that afternoon Mrs. Croft came to Evy, clearly reluctant to impart her message. Lips pinched, she finally said, “Master Rogan wants to see you. Shall I tell him you aren't up to seeing visitors just now?”

Evy's heart skipped a beat. Did she dare see Rogan now, with her emotions in such a riot? But she could not bear to have him come and be turned away.

“No, I want to see him. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

Mrs. Croft looked none too pleased. Evy knew she blamed Rogan for taking Derwent away from her, but at least the woman didn't say anything. She just nodded and left the room.

Evy brushed out her hair and smoothed the skirts of her black taffeta funeral dress. She glanced at herself in the mirror, frowning at the wan and distressed image that met her. She pinched her cheeks, trying to bring some color into them, and smoothed her thick, unruly hair. She scowled at her image. She looked young and frightened.

Determined not to appear so to Rogan, she bound her long hair up into a semblance of dignified order and, drawing a deep breath, went out to meet her caller.

Rogan paced about the small room and turned when he heard her enter. He came toward her, took a careful look, and a frown formed. He took both her hands into his and looked into her eyes. “No need to tell you how sorry I am at your loss.”

She knew she should withdraw her hands, but she did not. “Thank you. I saw you and Lady Elosia at the funeral. Thank you for coming.”

“But of course I would come. I would have called on you sooner, but I knew you needed time to be alone. Are you up to talking for a few minutes? I would not disturb you now, except I have little choice. My plans to leave for Capetown were already made before this happened, and my ship leaves next week.”

“Oh”—her dismay was swift and fierce—“then you are leaving so soon?”

His jaw tightened. “Yes, I must. Why not come to Rookswood to dinner? It will do you good to leave the cottage for awhile.”

“I couldn't …”

He inclined his head. “I understand. Then we will talk here or go for a walk. It is a pleasant enough afternoon. You could use some fresh air, I think.”

He probably wanted to talk with her alone, without Mrs. Croft loitering in the kitchen with one ear peeled in their direction.

“I really do need to talk to you, Evy.”

Evy.
The warm way he said her name sent her heart scurrying. She knew she should not … Walking unescorted with a man when one was single and alone in the world was more than enough cause for gossip.

But he was leaving next week. “All right, a walk. Excuse me a moment first. I want to get something from my room.”

“I'll wait for you outside.”

Evy went to retrieve the earrings Rogan had given her for Christmas. He had never come to claim them. She slipped them inside her handbag, then took a black scarf that had belonged to Aunt Grace and put it around her hair.

Rogan waited near the gate, opening it for her as she joined him.

She allowed him to lead the way. He was right: Being outdoors,
feeling the afternoon sun on her skin, breathing fresh air, and hearing birds and humming bees filled her heart like a refreshing breeze. All was not lost. Her wonderful heavenly Father still ruled.

They walked for a while in silence.

“That black scarf is rather disconcerting.”

Slowly, she removed it and let the breeze play in her hair. “It is not proper to go out so soon after a funeral without black.”

“The villagers all know you. There isn't one of them in their right mind who would think ill of you if they saw you, which they will not. We are alone. As I already suggested, I would have waited to see you except there is so little time. I leave for London in the morning, and I do not know when I will be back to England. A year, maybe two.”

Evy remained silent, but her heart cried out against this news. Two years! He was leaving for two years. She would not have him … or Arcilla … or Derwent …

He turned toward the grassy area facing the pond. There were benches here, and the ducks, geese, and peacocks were enjoying the grass and the water. Evy sighed. “Aunt Grace told me about my mother before she died.”

His head turned sharply toward her. “Did she tell you I had spoken with her a few months ago?”

She nodded.

“What did she tell you about … your mother?”

“The truth. That her name was Katie van Buren, and she was your Uncle Julien's ward. That Dr. Clyde and Junia Varley adopted me … or had planned to do so. And”—her throat constricted, but she forced the words out—“that Katie very likely stole the Black Diamond.”

She blinked away the tears that burned at her eyes. “Lady Brewster's letter was accurate after all. But when she spoke of my mother, she meant Katie van Buren, whereas I was thinking of Junia Varley. That's why her being a”—she could not say it, could not call her mother a thief—“made so little sense to me.”

Rogan was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. “I was under the impression Lady Brewster was speaking of Junia, as well.” He regarded
her. “But there may be more to all this than what we now know, Evy. While I'm in Capetown I shall find out the entire story from Sir Julien.”

She turned to face him. He would do that … for her?

“I was not going to say anything yet. I still need to do some research.” His gaze grew warm, and she wondered whether it was sympathy that she saw there … or something more. “But you have had enough depressing news, and I'd like to leave you with something on a more hopeful note.” He took her elbow and walked her across the grass toward the pond.

“There is something about this tale of your mother betraying my Uncle Henry that has troubled me since Grace told me who your real mother was. And that is the death of Henry.”

“Yes, Henry … What about his death?”

“
Think
, Evy. If neither Katie nor Henry had the diamond, then why would someone follow him here to England—someone who murdered him? It suggests to me that someone followed him here for another reason. The map, most likely I always thought that. And if he
was
murdered, that implies that he knew something that placed him in danger.”

She began to understand, and her heart quickened. “He may have found out who had the Black Diamond?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Perhaps the man who murdered him?”

His nod was quick. “Yes. Henry may have confronted whoever it was and threatened to unmask him.”

“But that would imply the person was living in Rookswood!”

“Not necessarily. Someone may have followed him to Rookswood. I think,” he said firmly, “that Heyden knows more than he is telling me.”

“I am quite likely a relative of his, you know.” Evy still could not believe that. “He had planned to meet me in London long ago and tell me more about my mother.”

“Yes, I know. He came to me and told me. I asked him not to say anything to you about Katie. I wanted more information first, and I did not want you hurt. I had no idea your aunt would confess before her
death. But now that she has told you—yes, Heyden is your cousin. He has returned to South Africa—with a few thousand pounds in his bank account.”

“Oh, Rogan! You gave him money to go away?” She stared at him, not sure if she should be angry or pleased.

“It is over and done. What pleases me is that you are not too unhappy to know you are the daughter of Katie van Buren.”

She gazed out across the pond. “I don't know how I feel about all this yet. I am still dazed. But Rogan, how would someone from Capetown get inside Rookswood to confront Master Henry without some of you remembering him?”

“There is no secret there. Members of all sides of the family were nearby in London when Henry died. My mother's family, the Brewsters, were here also. For that matter, so were Anthony and Sir Julien. Even Camilla.”

“Oh, surely you do not think—?”

He frowned. “I don't know yet what I really think about all this.”

“Then … what you're saying is that it could have been any of them?”

“They all had opportunity to silence Henry.”

She walked over to the bench and sat down. “Thank you for telling me this. It helps more than you know. Is this the matter you wished to see me about?”

“No.” He walked over to the bench and stood looking down at her. “I will come straight to the point. It is not lost on me that you are alone now. I should like to go away to South Africa knowing you are well taken care of.”

Her brows lifted, and she could not hold back the rueful words. “Do you wish to arrange a marriage for me with the village shoemaker, Rogan? Perhaps you regret the haste with which Derwent was taken from me after all?”

A glint of derisive challenge burned his dark gaze. “You misunderstand me. I think you already know what I meant.”

She met his gaze, barely daring to breathe.
Did he mean …?
“I do not.”

“I certainly am not advocating marriage—to anyone, least of all the shoemaker. And you misjudge me about Derwent.”

“I am not altogether convinced of that. I believe you were involved. Derwent said so in his letter back in January when I returned to Parkridge. The only thing that is unclear to me is why you would meddle.”

“Meddle.” A small smile played at his lips. “Such a potent little word, implying malice. I would think my interest in the matter should be simple to understand. I did not fancy the notion of your marrying him while I was away. I already told you that at the ball, back in December.”

His bluntness embarrassed yet elated her. “Why should it matter to you?”

His smile was full now, and she saw the imp dancing in his dark eyes. “What a leading question, Miss Varley! Naturally, as I've told you before, I am … fond of you.”

“Fond of me?”

He placed hands on his hips. “I have known you most of my life. I find myself concerned for your future. I did not twist Derwent's arm to get him to marry Alice. He did so of his choice and at the prompting of Mrs. Tisdale and Aunt Elosia. It was my father who offered him a good position in Capetown.” He gave her a slanted look. “Of course, offering him some shares in the gold I expect to discover did not hurt the prospects either.”

She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Well, you proved yourself quite successful.”

“Just between you and me, I am not the least sorry Derwent is gullible and, where you are concerned, foolish.”

The way he looked at her, as though she
belonged
to him, did odd things to her heart. She folded her hands in her lap, forcing herself to breathe slowly.
Do not be foolish
, she scolded.
His interest in you is as a friend, as one who wants the best for you. That is all.

He crossed his arms, watching her closely, as though trying to read her reaction to his words. “I have the feeling Derwent and I will be
friends for years to come. He trusts me. I will be forced to honor that trust.”

She smiled at that. “Sometimes I think you actually are fond of Derwent.”

“If I confessed, that would spoil your convictions that I am arrogant and a scoundrel.”

“Oh? Is that how you want me to think of you?”

“I think I told you before that I would prefer your good opinion of me.”

The breeze blew against her, and she watched it ruffle his shirt. “Your opinion that casts my mother in a new light is definitely in line with your wish.”

He bowed lightly. “Thank you. And now I shall get straight to why I wanted you see you. I am aware that your expenses must weigh heavily on your shoulders, particularly at this time.”

She thought of the ten pounds in the treasure box. She did not like to discuss such a personal matter with him, but he seemed quite relaxed about it, showing no embarrassment at all.

“That is why,” he continued, “since I must go away for some time, I would secure a measure of peace knowing you had sufficient funds to care for yourself. Lest you think the removal of Derwent is to blame for this, I hasten to contradict the idea. I knew for some time about your aunt's dwindling finances. She confided in Mrs. Croft—and we know, do we not, that Mrs. Croft loves to chatter. So it is no wonder it all got back to me. You have ten pounds. Am I right?”

Quick heat filled her cheeks.
Oh, Mrs. Croft!
Though pleased by his concern, she wondered why he felt it. She searched his features, seeking some clue to his motivation … but he was veiled.

“Naturally I would be sorry to see your final year at the music academy foiled. I would be quite amenable to seeing the tuition paid—as I've paid the first three years.”

She sucked in her breath, then surged to her feet. “
You?
”

“Why not? It was our little secret, your aunt's and mine. She wanted you to attend so badly that she accepted the gift as a loan. If it makes
you feel better, we can consider the final year a loan as well, with the idea you would pay it back at some time in the future.”