Where Love Has Gone (4 page)

A spy’s career was brief, almost always
ending in a very painful death: hanged, drawn, and quartered.
Desmond had known as much from the beginning, and had long ago made
his peace with the work he did. And yet...how wonderful to be so
loved, to have hope of a home and family and a happy future…

“You are speaking foolishness,” Lord Bertrand
chided her. “Silly, girlish foolishness. Aglise has left Jersey. It
is the only reasonable explanation.”

“You are quite possibly correct,” Cadwallon
said to him. “That being the case, you won’t mind if Desmond and I
retrace the paths you and your men took while you were seeking the
girl. We are sworn to obey Royce’s command to search the entire
island and to ask questions until we discover where Aglise is.”

“It will be a waste of your time,” Lord
Bertrand declared, frowning.

“That is entirely likely, my lord,” Cadwallon
agreed. “However, as I said, we are acting under Royce’s orders, so
we have little choice in the matter.”

“Then, do as you like,” Lord Bertrand said.
“Just don’t interfere with my people as they carry out their
routine duties.”

“We wouldn’t dream of interfering in any
way,” Cadwallon promised with a bright smile. “Now, my lord, I must
confess, I am hungry beyond bearing and thoroughly tantalized by
those delightful smells.”

“Indeed,” said Lady Benedicta, “we are poor
hosts to keep you standing here.” She laid a hand on Cadwallon’s
arm and allowed him to escort her to the table.

Desmond bowed to Elaine and offered his arm
to her. He was eager to question her, to learn whatever she knew,
or suspected, about her sister’s disappearance, and he wondered if
she would confirm his newfound suspicions. He understood that she
wasn’t likely to reveal anything important while Lord Bertrand and
Lady Benedicta were near, since both of them had made clear their
disapproval of the way Elaine had used her own initiative to call
upon the best help available in locating her sister. He was going
to have to find a way to question Elaine in private. He was
pleased, and not at all surprised when Elaine herself provided the
means he sought.

Elaine picked at her food. Knowing what the
dovecot was like, she didn’t care much for hot, roasted squab. In
any case, she hadn’t been able to eat more than a mouthful or two
of food at any one time since the day when Aglise disappeared. Now
that Royce had sent his men to conduct their own search for her
sister, she dared to hope they would find her.
Alive
, please
God.

From what she had seen of Royce’s emissaries,
she approved of them. She didn’t believe for a minute that the
huge, broad shouldered Cadwallon was as lazy and slow-witted as he
appeared to be at first glance. Royce would never employ a stupid
agent; therefore, Cadwallon’s slowness was a ruse.

As for Desmond, Elaine did not delude herself
that his slightly smaller size was a sign of weakness. The
shoulders beneath his plain blue wool tunic were those of a
well-trained swordsman and she had noticed the intent way he
watched Lord Bertrand and Lady Benedicta. She was sure Desmond was
clever and shrewd. She did find the emptiness behind his cool gaze
to be both peculiar and disturbing.

Elaine guessed that when dealing with such a
man, she was going to have to be very careful. She doubted if
Desmond would be hindered by gentle consideration of other people’s
feelings. Always cool and calculating as spies must be, he would
seek the truth almost as eagerly as she did. But until she knew him
better she was not prepared to provide the entire truth as she knew
it.

“Let me begin my investigation at once,” said
Desmond, as soon as he took the seat at her left side. “Do you know
of anyone here at Warden’s Manor, or on the entire island, who
dislikes your sister, or who might wish her harm?”

“No one dislikes Aglise,” Elaine responded,
perhaps too quickly, for she saw the way his gaze sharpened. But
she couldn’t tell him everything – at least, not yet. Not until she
could be absolutely certain he wouldn’t ruin Aglise’s good name. It
was possible he could find Aglise without ever learning…

“Did she have any particular friends?”
Desmond persisted, breaking into her troubled thoughts.

“She had me,” Elaine said. “I am my sister’s
very best friend.”

“Then, you will no doubt be of great help to
us.” The look he gave her was too intense for Elaine’s comfort.

“If you plan to begin by riding over the
island in search of her, I know Jersey fairly well,” she said, “and
I will gladly show you all the places Aglise liked to visit. If, of
course, Lady Benedicta will grant me leave to accompany you.”

“I believe I can convince her.” A faint smile
curved Desmond’s mouth, as if for some private reason of his own he
was pleased by her suggestion.

For the next hour Elaine listened with
growing respect to the scrupulously polite way in which Desmond
dealt with Lord Bertrand and Lady Benedicta. He offered subtle
hints that the sooner he and Cadwallon set about their
investigation, the sooner they would both be gone from Jersey,
leaving Warden’s Manor and its lord and lady in peace. Not by a
single word or glance did he suggest that he thought either of them
was withholding knowledge about Aglise.

So effective was Desmond that when the meal
was over and Elaine followed her foster mother up the stairs to the
solar, Lady Benedicta did not stipulate any course of action to
Elaine, only noting that she ought to be circumspect in what she
revealed to the two men.

Elaine fought the impulse to state bluntly
that she would never say anything to Aglise’s detriment, for she
understood some things were better left unspoken. As was her habit,
she bit back the words she knew would be unwise, and meekly bowed
her head, and thanked Lady Benedicta for her permission to ride out
with the men the next morning.

Elaine slept well for the first night since
Aglise had vanished. Royce’s men, merely by their presence, had
removed some of the burden she had been carrying for more than two
months.

Early though Elaine was in reaching the hall
the next morning, Desmond and Cadwallon were there before her.
Desmond was pacing around the hall with an air of impatience while
Cadwallon, looking completely relaxed, was sprawled on a bench
chewing on a hunk of bread and occasionally drinking from the cup
of ale he held in one hand. He glanced with approval at Elaine’s
cloak, ankle-length skirt, and sturdy boots.

“Have you broken your fast?” Desmond asked
her, frowning.

“I am ready to leave,” she responded crisply.
Indicating the linen-wrapped bundles she carried, she added, “I
stopped in the kitchen. I’ve brought bread and cheese, raisins and
dried apples, and a flask of wine, so we won’t have to return at
midday. We can stay out until dusk if you want.”

“Good thinking, my lady,” said Cadwallon,
grinning at her. He set down his cup and rose to take the bundles
from her hands. “Riding always makes me hungry. I’ll just slip
these packages into our saddlebags and then we can be on our
way.”

The squires had saddled the horses and stood
waiting in the bailey. Elaine rode astride, her hiked-up skirt
revealing the heavy woolen hose she wore to keep her legs from
chaffing.

“Clever girl,” said Cadwallon with a smile of
approval for her sensible garb. After helping Elaine into the
saddle, he seized the reins of his own horse from Ewan, then
mounted and turned toward the gate.

Desmond was conversing with his squire. While
Elaine waited for him, she was able to overhear part of what they
said, beginning with the squire’s insistence that he ought to
accompany his master.

“You are to stay here, Richard,” Desmond
ordered. “I want you and Ewan to continue asking questions of the
servants and the other squires.”

Elaine’s horse began to prance just then, out
of eagerness to be moving, and she was hard put to control the
beast, so she heard no more of Desmond’s instructions to
Richard.

They rode through the gate and onto the path
that dipped toward the bottom of the ridge on which the manor house
sat. When the path split in two, with one fork continuing down the
slope into Gorey village, they took the other fork, the rough track
that climbed north and west. Around them spread the rugged,
sometimes precipitous landscape, with the sea far below them on
their right. Any streams ran southward, to the lower land and into
the sea, gradually cutting ravines as they went.

The three riders eventually reached a point
on the track where they were able to look directly across to the
manor. Elaine thought she could appreciate how the view appeared to
the two men, for she and Aglise had occasionally stopped during
their rides together to reflect on the surprisingly formidable
structure. The manor was built of solid stone and the high wall
around it contained few openings, though on such an island, there
was little need for protection from invaders. Anyone approaching
Jersey could be seen for miles.

Suddenly, as if to defy the weight of all the
stone, a pigeon flew up from the courtyard and headed eastward over
the sea, toward Normandy. Elaine smiled to see it and wondered if
the bird felt a sense of freedom.

Below the manor, Gorey village clung to a
strip of land between the sea and the lowest slope of the hill. A
few boats were drawn up on the beach and, beyond them, the sea lay
impossibly blue and glittering in the April sunshine. Elaine
noticed a few fishing boats in the distance, riding on the gentle
swells.

“I hadn’t appreciated how high the land is,”
Desmond said from where he sat his horse close beside her.

“Most of this northern side of the island is
upland that ends in cliffs,” Elaine explained. “There are some
beaches at the bottom of the cliffs, but they are difficult to
reach and the tides are so treacherous that almost no one ventures
there. Lord Bertrand sent men-at-arms to search for Aglise down on
the beaches in case she had fallen off the cliff, but they found no
sign of her and one search party was almost swept away when the
tide came in. They barely escaped with their lives. After that,
Lord Bertrand refused to risk his men again. I think he was right
to search elsewhere. If you want safer beaches, hidden coves,
places where a small boat might land, you will have to look on the
southern shore.”

As they rode along Elaine noticed Cadwallon
casting a knowledgeable eye on the plowed fields, where large
swaths of the interior of the island were cleared for farming. The
open areas were dotted with small, but well-kept houses. The pale
green of newly sprouted wheat and barley, the pink buds on the
apple trees, and the yellow-green or reddish tinges of unfurling
leaves in the forested areas all added delicate springtime color to
the scene. The sky was clear blue, misty along the distant horizon,
and the breeze from the sea was soft, for the hour was still
early.

Elaine was used to the landscape. She was
much more intrigued by Desmond, though she struggled against the
attraction she felt toward him. Desmond would very likely think she
was a dreadful person to be taking pleasure in a man’s presence
when she ought to have nothing on her mind except finding her
sister.

He could not possibly be as aware of her as
she was of him. Having grown up with a beautiful mother and an
equally lovely sister, she was accustomed to being ignored by men.
She was, therefore, surprised and pleased when Desmond drew nearer
and looked at her intently. She trembled a little under his close
examination of her very ordinary face. His gaze lingered on her
mouth for a moment, before he looked directly into her eyes.

“Tell me about your sister,” he ordered. “If
we are to find Aglise, we’ll need to know as much as possible about
her.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Elaine began, telling
herself she should have known he wasn’t interested in her. He was
only doing the job he had been sent to Jersey to do. “Aglise has
golden hair—”

“So everyone says,” Desmond interrupted her
attempt at further description. “I want to know about her
character. What is she like?”

“Aglise is a good girl,” Elaine stated
firmly. “She is kind-hearted and loving and she would never hurt
anyone. She is the very best of sisters.” She fell silent,
searching her memory for information that Desmond would think was
useful.

“What we are trying to do,” said Cadwallon,
prompting her to reveal more, “is determine whether anyone could
have a reason to wish harm to her.”

“Aglise has no enemies. Everyone loves her.”
It wasn’t exactly true, but Elaine wasn’t ready to provide a pair
of strangers with any details that would reflect badly on her
sister.

“A beautiful young woman, however
well-behaved and innocent she may be, can become the object of
excessive, perhaps even dangerous, affection.” Desmond spoke
slowly, as if he was choosing his words with great care. “If two
men should happen to desire the same woman, it’s not unheard of for
them to become jealous.”

“Do you think because I am plain to look upon
and of a quiet disposition, I don’t know how men and boys react to
feminine beauty?” Elaine demanded, stung by the way he had looked
so closely at her and then, apparently, rejected her in favor of
asking questions about her sister that she found much too intimate.
“I do have eyes, Sir Desmond; I am aware of what happens around
me.”

“I believe what Desmond is suggesting,” said
Cadwallon, speaking in his mild and lazy way, “is that, without
Aglise herself inviting the attention, someone could become so
passionately devoted to her that he might take her away somewhere
and perhaps keep her confined, in order to have her to himself, or
to force a marriage with her. Passion can be an odd thing.”