A Brush with Shadows Read online

  And what about Rory? What had he done that constituted defying the family?

  Then I remembered something. Several days before when I’d come to sit with Lord Tavistock, I’d interrupted an argument between him and Rory. I’d thought nothing of it at the time, deciding it was likely some estate matter they disagreed on, but now I had to wonder.

  “You and Rory had a disagreement a few days before he went missing,” I remarked, watching him carefully.

  Gage sat tall, alarm radiating through him, but his grandfather never reacted.

  “Can you tell us what it was about?” I asked.

  If he was offended, he didn’t show it. “He wanted me to write to Lord Sherracombe and ask him to forbid his natural daughter, a Miss Galloway, to sell her herbal remedies in the village.”

  I reached out a hand to clasp Gage’s arm.

  The viscount coughed. “I take it you’re familiar with her.”

  “He truly does believe she poisoned Alfred,” I told Gage.

  “Yes, I gathered as much.” Lord Tavistock frowned at Gage. “He also seemed convinced her mother supplied your mother’s maid with the poison she used on her.”

  “Miss Galloway said that’s not true.”

  “Well, even if so, it seems rather harsh to saddle the girl with her mother’s crime.”

  Gage turned his hand over, reaching for my hand, which I gave to him. “And Rory was angry you wouldn’t do as he asked?”

  “I told him I preferred to wait until you finished your investigation before I took any action. He called me a fool, and told me it would be on my head if more deaths followed.” His bleary eyes fastened on me. “To tell you the truth, when I first heard you’d been poisoned, I worried he might have been right.”

  I was grateful for Gage’s hand in mine, for I needed his support as I reeled with shock at such a suggestion.

  “You’re sure the poison was in the tea you drank here?” he clarified.

  “I . . . yes. At least, I think so. It tasted wrong. I only had the one sip.”

  But what if I was wrong? What if the poor taste of my evening tea could be attributed to curdled milk or another factor? After all, I had taken tea with Lorna earlier in the day. The same day I asked her about the button.

  And now Rory was missing.

  The possibility that it might have been Lorna who poisoned me left me feeling as cold as ice.

  * * *

  • • •

  The dream began like all the times before. A sense of uneasiness slowly crept over me, prickling my skin all the way up to my scalp. Part of me wanted to open my eyes to see what was there, while the other part of me urged them to remain closed. But eventually, curiosity outweighed fear, and I peeled open my eyelids.

  There, at the end of the bed, stood a man, his face cloaked in shadow. I supposed it could have been a woman, but somehow the presence felt masculine. Whether he could see me watching him, I didn’t know, but his gaze bored down on me. Normally he held me pinned thusly for a few seconds and then suddenly disappeared into the darkness swirling around him. But this time his feet shifted.

  That tiny movement roused me more than any of the other times before, and I sensed a change in Gage’s breathing at my side. I was awake, not dreaming. Which meant . . .

  Before I could finish the thought, the figure lifted something over his head and swung downward. Gage pushed me out of the way as he rolled in the opposite direction. The object struck the mattress with a jarring impact, narrowly missing us. It was heavy, and from the rending tear it made in the bedcoverings, also sharp.

  Gage allowed his momentum to carry him out of bed. His feet hit the floor and he ran around the bedpost, knocking our assailant back as he raised the object for another swing. In the darkness, I could see little but shadows, but I could hear the impact of fists hitting flesh. Who was winning, I couldn’t tell, as they crashed about, knocking into the walls and furniture.

  I dodged past the men, racing toward the dressing table where my reticule was stored. It was impossible to know which shadow to aim at with my pistol, if, that is, they even separated for me to take a clean shot. But perhaps if I fired it into the floor or ceiling it would startle both men long enough for me to distinguish.

  Before I could pull my reticule from the drawer, a sharp yelp pierced the air. I glanced over my shoulder, to see one shape disentangle itself from the other and limp toward the connecting door to the other bedchamber. A moment later, the other man, who from the grace of his movements I could tell was Gage, pushed himself up to follow him.

  I cursed as my fingers caught in my reticule strings and I struggled to open the bag and extract my pistol. With it finally in hand, I picked my way across the floor, stepping through the puddle of water spilled out of the washstand they’d knocked over. Peering through the connecting door, I saw Gage hastily donning a pair of shoes.

  “He’s darted through an entrance into the secret passages I didn’t even know was there,” he retorted. Anger rippled through him as he rose to his feet and crossed the room to his dresser.

  “And you’re going after him?” Alarm made my voice rise in pitch.

  “Yes.” I heard the click of metal, and I realized Gage had lifted his pistols to check if they were loaded. “But this time I won’t be unarmed.”

  He strode across the room toward the wall panel near the wardrobe, which I now realized stood open. Before he darted inside, he turned back. “You have your pistol?”

  “Yes,” I replied, lifting the gun in illustration.

  “Good. Close this behind me, and shoot anybody who comes through it who’s not me.”

  My eyes blinked wide, and before I could form a response he was gone.

  I inched closer to the opening. The scent of must and damp issued from its interior, much like I imagined a crypt smelled. Shaking my head at the macabre thought, I pushed the panel shut as instructed and then crossed to the bellpull. Should Gage not return in short order, I would need Anderley’s help.

  Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Only moments after I’d managed to light a few candles to counter the darkness, I heard a snick and swiveled to see the wall panel opening. I raised my pistol, aiming it at the ever-widening slit, but lowered it at the sight of my husband’s golden head.

  I hurried forward, anxious to determine if he was harmed.

  “Only a few cuts and bruises,” he replied, feeling his cheekbone.

  “What of your bullet wound?” I asked, reaching for his right arm. The wound he’d received in Ireland had been only a graze, and the skin had mended well, but I suspected it was still sore.

  “Well enough.” He pulled away, apparently having endured enough of my wifely concern.

  “Did you catch him?” I asked, knowing full well he must not have, given the fact he’d returned emptyhanded.

  His voice was tight with frustration. “No. Either he darted out of the passage through another door I’m not aware of, or that blow to his leg I dealt him wasn’t severe enough to slow him down as I’d hoped.”

  “This one was a surprise, then?” I nodded at the opening that still stood ajar.

  He pushed it shut. “Yes, or you can be certain I would have blocked it off as well.” He shook his head. “I thought I knew all the entrances and passages. How many more are there?”

  At that moment, there was a rap on the door and Anderley peeked his head through the opening. “You wished to see me?”

  Gage glanced at me.

  “I sent for him,” I explained. “I thought it prudent to have help . . . should it be needed.”

  “Yes. Good thinking. Come in,” he told his valet.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling awkward standing there in my nightdress in front of Anderley. Sensing my discomfort, he crossed to the wardrobe while Gage explained the night’s events and pulled out a second dres
sing gown, this one made from midnight blue silk. I smiled in gratitude as he passed it to me. I swiftly wrapped it around myself, being enveloped in Gage’s scent.

  “What did he attack you with?” Anderley asked.

  “Let’s go see, shall we?” Gage replied, picking up a candle and leading us into the other room.

  All told, for as much commotion as they’d made, there was little damage. Anderley righted the washstand and tossed a towel over the puddle while Gage bent over to pick up the wooden handle protruding from underneath the bed where it must have been kicked. He lifted it high for us all to see the weapon was an ax.

  “Well, that could have easily disemboweled you,” Anderley remarked almost offhandedly as he stared up at the sharp edge.

  I scowled at him. As if we needed the reminder.

  “Who do you think was so intent on killing you?”

  Gage’s eyes were hard with fury. “I don’t know. But maybe we should speak with Alfred’s valet, Mr. Cooper. I realize it’s quite precipitous to escalate from a few harmless pranks to murder, but he would be as good a place to start as any.” He turned to Anderley. “Perhaps you’d like to rouse him?”

  Anderley’s teeth flashed. “With pleasure.”

  After his valet left, Gage picked up his burgundy dressing gown where it was flung over the corner of the bed. He pulled it around his frame, knotting it with a sharp tug.

  My eyes fastened on the long rip in the counterpane where the ax had struck between our vulnerable bodies. “I suppose this would be a good time to tell you this isn’t the first time I’ve woken to find someone standing over us while we slept.”

  Gage whirled around to stare at me. “What?!”

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of his blue dressing gown, which hung around me like a sack. “I thought I was dreaming. The figure would just stand there and then disappear. He never made any other movement. Until tonight.” The excuse sounded pitiful, but it was all I had to offer.

  “When did this start?”

  I looked up into his angry gaze. “Our first night here. The night the windows were opened.”

  “And you said nothing?”

  “I was going to, but then the windows seemed to be explained away, and I couldn’t imagine how someone could have snuck in here without us knowing after you blocked the entrance to the secret passage. When it kept happening without any change, without my ever seeming to really be awake, I decided it was just a dream. And I didn’t need to burden you with that.”

  He scowled. “Well, you should have told me anyway.”

  I conceded he was right. Had I known it would come to this, I certainly would have.

  He glanced at the clock still ticking away on the mantel. “Let’s see what Mr. Cooper has to say. And whether he enters with a limp.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “I had nothing to do with it,” Cooper protested anxiously as Gage and Anderley stood over him.

  I would have felt apprehensive too if confronted with their livid countenances and tightened fists. Both men were fit and well muscled, and their eyes said their intent was deadly serious.

  “I went to my room immediately after dinner to read and then fell asleep. I haven’t visited your chamber, except the other day when I told you about Alfred and his blackmail.”

  Gage narrowed his eyes, nudging his left leg. When the man didn’t flinch, just cowered in alarm, this seemed to satisfy him that Cooper wasn’t the man with whom he’d tussled. “What of all those petty little pranks you pulled when we first arrived? As we understand it, those would be typical of your modus operandi.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what pranks you’re referring to, but if you mean the misplacement of your trunks, that was Moffat’s doing.”

  Gage straightened. “You mean Mr. Trevelyan’s valet?”

  I had no idea who this Moffat was, but Gage appeared at least familiar with him.

  Cooper nodded briskly. “He was the one who suggested we put them in the attics, and, well . . . none of us objected.”

  Gage arched a single eyebrow. Apparently, our arrival had not been welcomed by most. “Do you think he’s capable of poisoning Mrs. Gage’s tea or attacking me with an ax?” he demanded.

  The unctuous man swallowed. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  I frowned, suspecting Alfred’s valet would say just about anything to save his own skin. The look in my husband’s eye told me he was thinking the same thing. Nevertheless, with Alfred and Rory missing, and Cooper seemingly out of contention, Moffat was our best suspect.

  “Let’s question him,” Gage instructed Anderley.

  * * *

  • • •

  But Moffat was nowhere to be found. Gage had spoken to him two evenings prior about Rory, and some of the staff had seen him throughout the day before. However, following dinner, no one could recall his whereabouts. This did not make matters look good for him.

  It was perplexing. The meddlesome pranks aside, why would Rory’s valet attempt to kill Gage or poison me? Had he been directed to do so by Rory, or was he acting on his own? And if Rory was behind the attack and poisoning, did that mean he wasn’t actually missing? Then where was he? And why was he hiding?

  The only sliver of hope for Moffat came when one of the maids suggested he might have gone into the village. She claimed he seemed extremely distraught about his missing employer, and that perhaps he’d gone in search of forgetfulness in the form of a bottle. To this end, Gage sent Anderley to Peter Tavy and the other villages nearby to ask after the man.

  Gage and I were about to set off across the moors on another search when I spied the figure of Lorna Galloway striding rapidly toward us. We spurred our horses in her direction, slowing them to greet her.

  Her face was tight with distress. “There’s something I need to show you.”

  My stomach dipped, thinking she must have stumbled across a body.

  “You found one of them?” Gage asked urgently.

  But Lorna wouldn’t answer him. “Just, please. Will you come with me? You need to see for yourselves.”

  Gage and I shared a look of confusion coupled with dread, but we agreed. I helped Lorna to mount behind me, and we set off toward her cottage as she instructed.

  When we reached the structure, she slipped from Eyebright’s back and gestured for us to follow. “Please, it’s inside.”

  Given my recent poisoning and the doubts our conversation with Lord Tavistock had raised the evening before, I was hesitant to enter. Had I been alone, I think I might have refused. But knowing Gage would be beside me, I complied.

  He pressed a hand to my back, ushering me forward as Lorna opened the door. I searched her face for any sign of duplicity, but I could see no deviousness, only dismay. And I soon understood why.

  Seated at the table was an attractive man with dark hair and eyes. The structure of his face and the shape of his eyes left me in no doubt who he was. Gage’s cursing only confirmed it.

  “Fiend seize it! Is this your idea of some appalling jest?! We’ve been scouring the entire bloody moor for your moldering corpse. Your family is worried sick.”

  “Are they?”

  Gage stiffened and then charged forward, pulling Alfred to his feet by his collar. “You rotten bastard! Grandfather is practically at death’s door because of you and your brother. Or was that your plan?”

  “No, that wasn’t the plan. But I hardly think Grandfather, or my mother, or my brother are brokenhearted by my absence.”

  Gage shoved him, releasing his lapels in disgust.

  I looked toward Lorna, who stood rigidly by the door, crossing her arms over her middle. “He’s been here the whole time, hasn’t he?”

  Her eyes shifted to meet mine and she nodded, at least having the grace to appear abashed. “There’s a trapdoor in the floor of the bedchamber.”
r />   So he’d likely listened to every conversation we’d ever had without my even knowing it. I turned to glare at him in accusation. “It was you I heard in the bedchamber that day, not the cat. And you on the moor.”

  He finished tugging his coat back into place, eyeing both Gage and me with wary displeasure. “Yes. Both of those were near things.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “So Rory did see you that day?” I glanced around. “Where is he?”

  Alfred’s expression tightened. “I don’t know.” His eyes flicked toward Lorna. “That was what convinced me to show myself to you. In truth, I thought I might be hiding from him. But now that he’s missing . . . that seems questionable.”

  Gage huffed, his face still flushed with anger. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  But my head was clearer than his. “The poison,” I guessed.

  Alfred nodded. “Someone kept dosing me with poison, and each time they increased the dosage, for the stomach pains were growing worse.”

  Having experienced my own bout with poison, likely the same one, I could empathize.

  He sank back down on the bench, staring at the herb bennet above the door. “That last time, just before I vanished, I realized they were intent on killing me. And eventually, they were going to succeed. I . . . I couldn’t help but think of your mother,” he told Gage. His gaze dropped to Lorna. “So I came here, and we decided I should hide for a time. At least until the poison had completely left my system and I could formulate a plan to uncover the culprit.” He glanced over his shoulder at Gage. “But then you arrived and I decided it would be best to stay put. You’re an experienced inquiry agent. You and your father are purported to be the best. I figured if anyone would be able to expose the truth, it would be you.”

  As far as compliments went, it was a fairly weak one, but from the look on Gage’s face, I suspected it was the only one he’d ever received from his cousin. “That’s all well and good, but why did you bloody your own frock coat and leave it out near Cocks Hill? You had to know that would set everyone into a frenzy.”