Gatehaven Page 23

  Buster ate the last of the meat and licked Ian’s hand. Ian returned the favor by patting Buster on the head.

  “I am going to have to tie you up for a while, boy, and then we will go walking in the woods some more.”

  Ian tied Buster to a branch of the nearest tree. Then he went back to the hole and started digging. He didn’t have a shovel. But he found a stick that worked almost as well in moving around damp soil. On his hands and knees, he laid the stick beside him and starting digging with eager fingers.

  The bone felt soft to the touch—softer than a bone should. Why? Frantic, he dug faster. Ian stiffened. It wasn’t a bone at all. It was a partly decomposed human hand.

  The word murder screamed in his ears.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  IAN REMOVED MORE of the dirt from the grave. A shoulder encased in purple material stared back at him. It could only belong to a woman.

  He was digging out double handfuls of dirt and faster than he would ever have thought possible. He saw long strands of gold-colored hair mixed with dirt. Ian trembled. He’d uncovered a woman’s head. A rope was still tied around her neck.

  Ian froze. He’d seen enough.

  He scrambled to pour dirt back on the decomposed body. Buster howled to be loosened from the prison of the tree, but Ian tried not to notice. Why was it taking longer to fill the hole than it had to uncover the body?

  At last he finished.

  It wasn’t the best job he had ever done at covering a hole with dirt, but it would have to do. He wanted to return Buster to his pen and report what he believed was a crime of murder.

  He took his knife and marked an M on the tree where he’d tied Buster. If he’d had time to consider, he might have come up with a more unique marking. But he was in a hurry. He wanted to be away from the wretched place as soon as possible.

  Ian untied the dog from the tree but didn’t remove the leash. He wasn’t in the mood for chasing after Buster. The leash would keep that from happening.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.”

  He wouldn’t be paying Shannon a visit at Gatehaven now. He would return Buster to his pen, tell the vicar what he knew and set out for the village. Doctor Grimes would know what to do. Ian knew better than to tell Etienne Gabeau or the earl what he’d found.

  The physician once told him that he knew a man in London that he could trust, and that if Ian ever found any clear evidence of a possible murder, he would gladly contact his friend in London and ask him to take care of the matter. He believed that time had finally come.

  Shannon and Cally had been walking in the forest that surrounded Gatehaven for some time. Now that day replaced the darkness, Shannon realized they were lost.

  “I am not familiar with these woods, Cally. I have not a guess where the vicar’s cottage might be located.”

  “Look!” Cally pointed to a puff of smoke above the line of trees. “Smoke. Could it be coming from the chimney of a house?”

  “Yes, it could. Let us find out for ourselves. Hurry.”

  The ground under their feet had been damp but not muddy. All at once, walking became difficult. Muddy soil stuck to the bottoms of Shannon’s shoes, and she was forced to go around puddles of water. Obviously, it had rained during the night—probably before they left the mansion.

  The birth of the morning turned the sky overhead to gold. They raced on to the cottage in the distance. But would Ian be waiting there?

  “That must be the place I was telling you about,” Shannon said. “Hurry, we are almost there.”

  Shannon hated to knock on the door at such an early hour and looking as she did.

  “Let us remove our shoes and leave them by the stoop before I knock at the door,” Shannon suggested. “We would not want to bring mud into the vicar’s cottage.”

  Cally nodded. “We certainly would not.”

  The two young women took off their shoes, lined them up beside the stoop, and Shannon reached for the heavy metal knock-hammer on a chain and that was attached to the doorframe. She gripped the hammer and hit the door with it. When nobody came to the door, she hit it again.

  “I am coming,” a female voice said from the other side of the door.

  Someone opened the door but only a crack. “What do you want at such an early hour?” the woman said.

  “I am looking for the vicar’s cottage,” Shannon said. “Am I in the right place?”

  “Miss Aimee.” Millie opened the door all the way. “What a blessing to see ya again. Welcome to me home. I mean our home.”

  “Millie? It is good to see you, too. But what are you doing here?”

  Millie chuckled softly. “I live here. And as you can see, this be not the vicar’s cottage. It belongs to me uncle. But please come inside and bring your friend with ya.”

  Shannon introduced Cally to Millie, and then they sat on a comfortable settee while Millie served them cups of hot tea and bread with marmalade.

  “It has been a long time since I’ve had marmalade, I wager,” Cally said. “It tastes like fresh fruit. Thank you for your kindness.”

  “Yes, Millie,” Shannon put in. “Thank you.”

  Shannon explained their predicament without being too specific. She knew Millie no longer worked as a maid at Gatehaven, but she didn’t really know how Millie felt about the earl or Monsieur Gabeau and didn’t want to put Millie and her uncle in danger. Perhaps they should go as soon as they finished their tea and cakes.

  “This cake is wonderful.” Cally smiled. “As I said, it has been a long time since I ate anything this good, it has.”

  Shannon tensed, trying to hold in a secret frown. She and Cally still hadn’t discussed what went on at Gatehaven on the top floor, but clearly, food that made Cally smile was never on the menu.

  “It makes me happy to hear your kind words about me cakes,” Millie said, “and I wish ya both could stay here with us forever. But Uncle is at work now. And after hearing what ya told me, I think our cottage and the vicar’s would be the first places the earl and the Frenchman would go lookin’ for you.”

  “We should go,” Shannon said.

  “No. You must stay. Me uncle rode his horse to Monsieur Gabeau’s estate early this mornin’,” Millie went on. “He works for Monsieur Gabeau as his carriage driver. I do not know how long Uncle will be away from the house. He could return in time for dinner. Or he could stay away until late this night. But when the Monsieur has no need of his services, he returns home within the hour.

  “My bonnie father and me uncle be born in Scotland,” Millie continued. “McGregors all, we are. And my uncle took me in after me parents died. Miss Aimee said that she hoped to find her friend, Ian Colquhoun, and my uncle mentioned this man. He also mentioned you, Miss Aimee. I have no hard feeling against those from other clans—not in the least. But me uncle hates all Colquhouns, especially Ian Colquhoun. He might have a poor regard for you as well, Miss Aimee. He knows that you and Mr.Colquhoun be friends.”

  Shannon rose from her chair. “Cally and I really must leave this time.”

  She motioned for Cally to stand as well. “I will not allow you to be put in low regard by your uncle on our behalf.”

  “Wait!” Millie gestured with the palms of both hands as if she wanted to halt. “I have a plan—a wee plan for your escape that might work.”

  Shannon shook her head. “That is out of the question. We cannot put you in still more danger.”

  “Sit back down and hear me plan. Then decide.”

  Shannon returned to her chair. Then Cally did.

  “I think I know of another location where ya both might be safe.” She smiled. “A fortnight ago, maybe less, my uncle and I found an injured young man in the woods.” Her smile widened. “A very handsome young man.”

  Shannon and Cally laughed. Then Millie joined in.

  “He’d hit his head on something. He suffered from the long sleep when we found him. One day he woke up. I think him most charming, and he spoke like a Frenchy. But he lef
t me care sooner than he should have. I was told that a gentleman that sounds like him now works at The Boar and Tongue in the village of Fairs. If he be the young man I cared for, I would be delighted to have a reason to see him again.”

  “What is the young man’s name?” Shannon said.

  “William Spear. His name does not sound French, does it?”

  Shannon shook her head. “It does not. I’m asking because I heard that my brother Peter Aimee followed me to England.”

  “So the young man I met cannot be your brother.”

  “No,” Shannon agreed. “He cannot.”

  “Nevertheless,” Millie continued, “we must set out for The Boar and Tongue at once. Uncle knew I needed to go to the village this morning to purchase flour from the mill, and he left his cart and his other horse behind. We shall prepare the horse and cart for travel and drive into the village. But we must be quiet. Wouldn’t want to cause me uncle or anyone to become suspicious now.”

  Shannon and Cally lay on the bed of the cart. Millie covered them with a large piece of tent material. Then Millie drove them to The Boar and Tongue where the young man she knew as William Spear now worked.

  After hearing Millie go on and on about the handsome Mr. Spear with the French accent, Shannon thought Millie was half in love with the man. She was eager to see him face-to-face and learn if he was truly as strikingly good to look at as Millie said he was.

  The cart stopped. Shannon felt a jerk. She didn’t move and tried not to breathe. Perhaps they had arrived in the village of Fairs. Were they in front of the mill? Or perhaps The Boar and Tongue?

  “Wait here, now, and do not move,” Millie whispered. “I shall go inside the inn to find Mr. Spear. I will return when I can.”

  Peter Aimee was standing at a window on the first floor of The Boar and Tongue when Millie pulled her horse and cart to a stop some distance from the front door of the inn. She went around and straightened things in the back of the cart. Then she strode toward the inn’s entry door.

  His new boss, a man they called Brother Julian, had stepped out. Peter was expected to greet any new guests who came in. If only he could recall the name he’d used while staying at Millie’s cottage.

  He moved around to the back of the main desk and waited for the front door to open. He had thought Miss Millie McGregor had a fondness for him when he recovered from his fall at her cottage, and she was a kind and gentle person. He must not encourage that fondness in any way.

  Millie opened the door, all smiles. “Oh, Mr. Spear. I was hoping to find you here.”

  Oh yes, he thought. That was my name. William Spear.

  “It is good to see you, too, Miss McGregor. What brings you to The Boar and Tongue on this fine day?”

  Her forehead wrinkled, and he thought she looked troubled all at once. She looked to her left and to her right as if she was surveying the entire inn.

  “May we speak in private?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He nodded toward a table in the back of the eating area. “Follow me.”

  They sat at a small table near the back door of the establishment.

  “Now, what would you like to talk about, miss?”

  “Do ya promise not to repeat anything I will be sayin’?” she whispered.

  He nodded. This sounded interesting.

  “Do go on,” he said.

  Millie told him all that had transpired since the two young women knocked at her door earlier in the day.

  “And who are these young women?” he said. “Do you know their names?”

  “Aye. One be called Cally. The other—Miss Shannon Aimee. Perhaps you have heard of Miss Aimee. She came to Gatehaven as the earl’s special guest some days ago.”

  Peter was so astonished he couldn’t speak for a moment. “Did you say Miss Shannon Aimee?”

  “Aye. Do you know her?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  Peter had no choice but to tell Millie McGregor who he really was now, and he felt slightly embarrassed doing it. He didn’t make a habit of telling lies. Now that he’d been caught, he had no choice but to admit it.

  Peter leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his knees, and shook his head. “I have a confession to make, Miss McGregor.”

  “Confession?”

  He nodded and leaned forward in his chair. “I am not who I said I was.”

  “Then you lied to me Christian heart?”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “But why?”

  He took in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I have no excuse. You were kind to me. Yet I lied to you. Forgive me. You see, I didn’t want anyone here to know my true identity. My real name is Peter Aimee, and Miss Shannon Aimee is my sister.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Yes. Where is Shannon now?”

  “In the back of me cart with the other girl. I came here today to ask for your help. We must hide them. They could be in great danger now.”

  “I realize that.” Peter stood. “And we have no time to waste. We must bring them into the inn and hide them at once. Brother Julian could return at any moment.”

  Peter and Millie hurried out the entry door of The Boar and Tongue.

  “Shannon will not be pleased to see me,” Peter said. “It might be best if you did the explaining and most of the talking. I would rather not have a confrontation with my sister now. As I mentioned, Brother Julian could return at any moment, and I want Shannon and the other young woman safely hidden in the attic of this inn before he gets back.”

  Peter saw anger boiling in Shannon’s eyes before anybody said a word.

  “Peter,” Shannon demanded. “What are doing here?”

  He forced a halfhearted grin. “I will let Millie tell you.” However, he hardly listened to Millie’s explanation. He was too busy surveying the woods nearby for Brother Julian, a portly little man who claimed to once have been a French monk.

  Shannon’s facial expression had softened a little by the time Millie stopped talking. Still, she kept looking away each time Peter tried to make eye contact with her.

  “I plan to hide both of you in the attic here at the inn,” Peter said at last. “But you must promise to be very quiet. The attic’s wooden floor is just above the ceiling on the second floor of The Boar and Tongue. When the inn’s guests turn in for the night, they are likely to hear any sounds coming from above. They are also likely to complain to the innkeeper, Brother Julian, if they hear anything.”

  Shannon’s nod had a defiant edge to it. “I understand,” she said.

  Peter thought that she was still angry. His conclusion was confirmed when she refused to look him in the eye.

  As Shannon followed Peter up the stairs to the attic, she glanced back at Millie and smiled.

  “Thank you, Millie, for all you have done for Cally and me. I shall never forget you.”

  “Me either, miss,” Cally said.

  For Shannon, saying goodbye to Millie would not be easy because she knew she might never see her again. Millie planned to go to the mill and some other places after she left the inn as if nothing unusual happened that day. Peter had said he would ride to the vicar’s cottage at once to inform Ian of Shannon’s current location and tell him all that had happened since the dinner party on the previous night.

  Peter and Millie spent a few moments in the attic, visiting with Shannon and Cally. As soon as they went below stairs, Shannon decided to search the attic for possible hiding places. If someone happened to hear them moving around in the attic, Shannon wanted to know exactly where they would hide.

  The attic contained two big rooms with a wall and a door between them. They found no beds, but did find stacks of old quilts that would do well enough. Shannon remembered the secret door she found in the mansion that led to a hidden hallway. Perhaps she would search the walls in both attic rooms. Who can say what she might find?

  She paused in front of the wall to the right of the stairway, pressing both hands directly to the rough woode
n panels in hopes of finding a hidden door.

  “What are you doing?” Cally whispered.

  “Looking for another hidden door. We might need a place to hide.”

  “I will look as well.”

  After searching for almost an hour, Shannon felt a lump on the back wall of the second room behind some large wooden boxes. The room was some distance from the stairway; so if the lump was a door latch, the door couldn’t be in a safer place.

  Shannon pushed the lump. It inched to one side.

  “Cally, come here.” She opened the little door all the way. “I think I found a place to hide.”

  Shannon ducked under the short door and went into a dark and narrow crawl space that lined the back wall.

  “Come on in, Cally,” Shannon said.

  Cally shook her head, and her shoulders were shaking.

  “Please, Cally. I promise to leave the door open a crack.”

  Cally didn’t move.

  “If I leave the door all the way open, will you come inside?”

  Cally nodded, but she was still shaking. She hesitated a moment and, leaning forward, she climbed inside.

  Shannon held her knees in order to fit in the narrow space, and warm, cozy memories filled her mind. She remembered childhood picnics in Scotland where she sat on a blanket in just that way and listened as her father told of his childhood in France, and she remembered games she and Peter played as children—where hiding in dark places was commonplace.

  She looked over at Cally, trembling in front of the opened door, and her heart went out to her. Cally’s memories of small and dark places were nothing like her own. She longed to talk—find out why her new friend was so frightened. Perhaps it was time to just sit there and say nothing.

  “If we just sit here with the little door open and try not to move, there would be no need to talk—unless you really want to do so,” Shannon said. “Of course if we did talk, it must be in whispers. But whispers can be fun, if we make it a game.”