A Heart's Treasure (30 page)

“Enough,” Summer cried, and perhaps there was a touch of amusement in her tone. “You’ve convinced me, for everyone’s sake, that it behooves me to see we arrive in Kirkby Lonsdale ere dark. I’ll sit with you.”

“Yes, for everyone else’s sake. You’re so good to think of them,” Michael nodded without an obvious smile as he crossed to her. She brought a parasol from inside the coach, and took up his offered arm. She put her fingers on his sleeve, very lightly, and allowed herself to be guided to the other coach.

Genevieve was handed up to the ladies’ coach by Haddy, who then climbed up beside Kenneth. She looked out the window, and saw Penelope looking up at the box where Kenneth sat. He didn’t look back at Penelope, not before Xavier took his sister’s reins and pulled her horse forward.

* * *

“There was an old woman,” Kenneth began his tale. Hours later, weary of travel and glad to stretch their legs, they stood at the bank of the River Lune in Kirkby Lonsdale, a bridge before them. Devil’s Bridge, Kenneth called it.

 “Now, at that time there was no bridge here,” he continued. “The old woman’s cow crossed the river, by swimming its width. The old woman walked to the water to come after the cow, only now she found the river swollen and quite impassable.

“The devil appeared to her, and offered to make a bridge appear overnight for her use, only she must promise he would have the soul of the first living creature that crossed it. The old woman agreed.

“When she came back the next day, she found the bridge as promised, and the devil awaiting his payment. Instead of crossing the bridge herself, as the devil had expected, she pulled her small dog from under her cloak, tossed a bun to attract the animal forward, and watched as the little creature ran across the bridge to have its treat, thereby fulfilling her promise. Only, according to legend, a dog has no soul, and therefore had none to forfeit and the devil gained nothing. He howled in rage at the old woman, and disappeared, leaving behind the bridge you see before you today,” Kenneth finished with a flourish toward the structure.

“Very amusing, I’m sure, but what clue must we solve?” Xavier asked, one hand on his hip as he looked at the sky with its gathering clouds. He’d already mentioned that if they could make quick work of this clue, there was every possibility they could arrive at Brockmore by nightfall so long as they didn’t have to fight rain and mud.

“You must find one part of that story.”

“One part? Well, we’ve found the bridge already,” Xavier said. This morning he was cordial as always…but there was some remoteness in his attitude that seemed to say he was ready to be done with this tour.

“Not the bridge. Something else.”

“What else could it be?” Genevieve ventured. “An old woman? A cow? A bun?”

Kenneth shook his head at each mention.

“The devil,” Xavier growled.

“You needn’t look far to find
him,”
Penelope said, with just enough sharpness to imply she was yet irritated with her brother.

“Let us search about,” Genevieve suggested, thinking maybe she was weary of this journey, too.

“Not everyone. Just the couple who are first in line to try for this, the final token. You have,” Kenneth consulted his pocketwatch, “eight more minutes, Xavier, Genevieve.”

“We can only play at spoilers,” Genevieve pointed out, looking askance at Xavier. “This would be only our third token. We can’t match Summer and Michael’s four.”

“Penelope already thinks me a spoiler,” Xavier remarked without any sign of resentment.

Penelope turned a little pink, but then she stuck out her tongue at him—and the moment seemed to break the residual resentment, for brother and sister actually smiled at each other.
Oh good, they’re making amends.

“Look for rocks shaped like anything in the tale. I’ve heard many rocks or hills are named for local tales,” Genevieve suggested, turning to cross the bridge.

She peered into the water below, around at the banks of the river, and up at the craggy hills around them, looking for anything that might resemble a cow or a dog or an old woman.

It was Xavier who found it, by walking past a rise on the riverbank to the hidden setting beyond. He glanced at a man who reclined against a tree near the bank, a living man he slowly realized he recognized in some manner, and around whom lay four hounds. Two were black, one was brindled, and the fourth was gray, with plenty of aged white around his muzzle. The fellow sat chewing on a grass stalk, a fishing pole propped at his side, until one of the dogs sat up and another barked, and he looked up to see Xavier walking toward him. He hastened to stand, the dogs coming to their feet as well. They stood still and stiff, and then the older dog began to ever so slightly wag his tail.

“You’re Kenneth’s man. Opperman, is it?” Xavier said as the shorter man dusted his dark clothes with his hands. “The one who’s been planting clues and tokens for us?”

“Yes, Lord Warfield, that I am.”

“I find four dogs, not one.”

Opperman grinned. “I meant to bring only the one, but the other three followed me down the drive from Brockmore. In the end, I called ‘em to come along, for company. But the dogs ain’t the answer to the clue.” He produced a playing card from his pocket: the king of spades.

“Ah,” Xavier said, nodding as he took it. :Representing the king of death, the devil.”

“That’s yours earned, then,” Opperman approved. “I hope the treasure hunt was as interesting as Master Kenneth wished it to be?”

“Interesting, yes.” To the white muzzled dog, who was inching forward curiously, Xavier offered the back of his hand that it might be sniffed. “Who are you then, old boy? How shall I call you?”

“This is Cymru, named for ancient Cumberland, you see? And these two dark fellows are Keswick and Penrith, and the lady there is Aspatria.”

“Fine names.” Xavier smiled as the old dog licked his hand.

“Hallooo!” came the cry, announcing that Xavier’s discovery had itself been discovered. Kenneth waved from the rise, turned to beckon the others, and strode toward the tree.

“Have we kept you long in this field, Opperman?” he called as he approached. The dogs turned to him, poised for a moment quivering with excitement until Kenneth half bent toward them, whistling an invitation, and then they came bounding.

“Only two days, Master Kenneth,” Opperman said as Kenneth tousled the head of each of his joyfully wagging and barking hounds, greeting them with obvious fondness. “I’d rather hoped I might have another day of nothing but fishing, sipping beer chilled in the river, and the company of dogs, but you’re welcome, for all it means my days of leisure are behind me. Do we go on to Brockmore now, Master Kenneth?”

“Yes. It may grow dark before we reach it, but I’m familiar enough with the roads near the town of Carlisle, I feel safe to travel them even after nightfall. Did you give Lord Warfield his token?”

“I did,” Opperman said even as Xavier held up the card.

“Then let us be away. I’ve a mind to sleep in a familiar bed this night,” Kenneth said heartily, clucking to the dogs, who fell into step beside him with silly dog grins and lolling tongues.

And I’ve a mind to be done with foolishness and leave with Nellie in the morning for London,
Xavier thought with a sigh as he fell in step behind them.

Chapter 22

Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow;

He who would search for pearls must dive below.

—John Dryden,

All for Love

“To Kenneth and his treasure hunt,” Michael raised a toast as they sat, replete and content, around the long Brockmore dining table that night. Brockmore newly belonged to Kenneth and Laura’s father, Sir Roger, but it had been built a century and half ago, and was richly appointed. Michael’s toast was met with a cheer and a tipping of elegant cut glass goblets. “Now you should offer a toast,” he said to the lady at his left, Penelope.

“To the end of the outward journey,” she said.

Everyone raised their glasses, offered their noises of appreciation, and drank again. She turned expectantly to Kenneth on her left.

Just then, a servant entered, bearing the lantern Kenneth had purchased in Coventry.

“It’s refilled with oil, my lord,” the man informed him.

“Very good. Leave it here, will you?” Kenneth stared at the lantern for a moment, searching for the words of his own toast. He lifted his glass. “To Brockmore’s clean linens and decent food.”

This created a large buzz of agreement while Haddy murmured, “Much more than decent!” and then it was Laura’s turn. “We only had one incident with a broken coach wheel, which we survived quite intact. So, to the fortunate lasting health of this company of splendid persons.”

“Here, here!”

“To the winners of the treasure hunt,” Haddy’s turn came.

Nods were given toward Michael and Summer. The prizes they were promised, a new fan and new snuffbox, would be acquired in London and awarded later.

“To Little Riddles,” Summer proposed, and a few laughed, for she’d collected the most kisses of them all.

The round of toasts came to Xavier next. He hesitated, then raised his glass. “To a very fine port.”

The other two men nodded agreement toward their host, Kenneth.

Lastly, it was Genevieve’s turn. She felt at a loss for words. This ought to be a carefree moment, but truth was she felt heartsore, aware of an ending, one that might never give her a second chance with a wounded friend. She said what she thought would sound well, but her voice caught on the words anyway. “To friends,” she managed to get out, realizing it wasn’t so much sadness that tainted her voice, but anger.

No one seemed to notice her agitation, for the toast resulted in more calls of “Here! Here!” and a few “Huzzahs.”

As he was seated near her, Genevieve heard Xavier murmur some halfhearted sound of agreement, and she turned to him, not lowering her glass until she caught his eye with her own. Only then did she allow the glass to come to her lips, as she continued to hold his regard over the edge of the glass as she sipped. Devil take the man and his tender feelings. She’d be his friend again, whether he thought she ought or not.

* * *

Xavier stared back at Genevieve, unnerved even though he met her glare. Did she think the barrier between them was all of his making?

And, oh lord, was it possible she was right?

He looked away, his mouth tightening in confusion and not a little misery. When he looked up again she was still watching him.

“What do you want?” he whispered fiercely, so low he thought even she scarcely heard it.

“Simple courtesy would do,” she hissed back.

He sighed, and struggled to know what to say next, not least when he began to burn with shame. She paid him in the coin he’d earned, after all. She’d given him only the truth, in revealing her curiosity about his eye. Was it her fault if the truth was less than he would have it?

She was right to be annoyed at him, of course. She’d done nothing wrong, yet he’d coldly given her the cut direct. It was his own inability to accept the world’s curiosity that stood in his way. He’d judged her, and harshly, and it was time to really understand that it was no fault but his own.

Before, he’d told himself he must risk it all—but when the moment had come, he’d recoiled into his old pattern. He’d risked nothing. Gained nothing. He’d, again and always, hid behind fear disguised as righteousness.

Yet, he saw with a sudden, shocked insight, she put aside any insult or grievance she felt, and made this attempt to reach out to him once again.

His heart began to thud powerfully in his chest, from a mix of self-recrimination and something softer yet more powerful. “Genevieve?”

“Yes?” she pouted.

He opened his mouth to speak, unsure just what the words would be, when Kenneth interrupted.

“Xavier. Now we are all gathered and out of the way of the public, would you finally answer a question for me?”

Xavier stared at the man, only slowly beginning to know what the question would be.
Why, I could almost laugh at the timing…

“I mean, the thing of it is, you never
say,
do you? Your eye, I mean. Oh, you tell stories, but you never truly say how you came by the original injury.”

Xavier’s mouth twitched in tight amusement. He would say, he wanted to say…but he couldn’t. Not with any honor.

The moment grew long, weighted, uncomfortable.

“It was me,” Haddy growled.

Kenneth spun to face him.

Xavier started to speak, but Haddy held up a restraining hand. “No,” he said toward Xavier, voice harsh. He crumpled up his mouth, but then resignation stole over his features. “You’ve protected me long enough, Warfield.”

He pitched to his feet in agitation, and rounded the circle of staring faces with a sharp gaze. “Xavier never says what really happened because he’s too much the gentlemen to always be casting the fact in my face. It was me who did it to him. With a sharp, pointed stick. We were lads. We were playing pirates, and I would have a sword. My mother told me to put the stick down. Xavier told me to watch out, but too late. I tripped. I stupidly tripped. I did it. I took his eye.” Haddy paused, taking a deep breath before he rushed on.
“I
gouged his eye.
I
gave him that scar. There! Now you know what happened. Beleaguer the man no longer.” He cast up his hands, then stormed from the room.

Summer rose and went after her brother, causing Genevieve to think fleetingly that if Summer was a bit spoiled as Michael and Haddy would have them all believe, she also was loving toward those she held dear.
That’s why we love her in return.

“I’m sorry,” Kenneth breathed. “I never meant to—”

“It’s all right,” Xavier said, staring at the floor. “It pains him to know he was the one who caused the accident. We’d long since agreed not to speak of it. Our parents agreed.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Haddy was only a lad, with no malice intended, of course. Why constantly have fingers pointed at him?”