Chapter Five #2
Selena briefly considered sharing this with Mrs. Hillman but thought better of it.
Mrs. Hillman had made it clear that she didn’t want to discuss the subject further.
If Mr. Clarke’s last words had indeed been about five thousand pounds in hidden cash, he’d had the opportunity to tell Mrs. Hillman about it before then, but he had chosen not to.
Instead, he had apparently hidden it himself.
He must have had a reason for that. Furthermore, Selena couldn’t be sure she was right about any this.
He might have hidden something else under the dragon—whatever that meant.
She wouldn’t know for sure unless she actually found the hidden cash.
That would be the time to tell Mrs. Hillman.
Meanwhile, she needed to embark on a treasure hunt.
Selena’s heart pounded with excitement as she glanced around the room. The assembled party was merrily decorating the tree, all apparently undisturbed by the ideas rattling around in her brain. All except for one person, that is.
Dr. Scott was leaning one arm on the mantelpiece, a distant stare on his face, seemingly as deep in thought as she was. He didn’t know about Mr. Clarke’s final message, though—but something was clearly bothering him.
Selena made a mental note to seek him out later to discuss the matter.
*
After lunch, Selena led the group on an excursion through the ground floor of the house.
“Last September, the Darkmoor Bridge School for Girls moved from Thorndale Manor to Darkmoor Park, and it has proved to be a most advantageous location,” Selena explained as they glanced into the former gentleman’s parlor and lady’s parlor, which had been turned into schoolrooms. Each chamber was outfitted with a dozen student desks, a good-sized teacher’s desk, a blackboard, a globe, and shelves full of books.
Selena showed them the small study that Mrs. Hillman had given over to Selena and Athena to conduct school business and prepare their lessons.
As they moved on to the north wing of the manor house, Selena’s thoughts wandered to the prospect of the hidden money.
If Mr. Clarke really had stashed a huge sum of cash here, where was it?
What had he meant by “under the dragon”?
He’d also said, “Four rows.” She couldn’t think of any dragon images at Darkmoor Park, much less four rows of them.
She sternly reminded herself to stay focused on the tour she was conducting. Everyone seemed to be interested in what they were seeing. Although Dr. Scott’s expression was reserved, he appeared to be taking in every detail with particular attention.
The moment they set foot inside the library, however, Dr. Scott’s face lit up like a beacon—the first time, Selena realized, that she had seen him truly smile since they’d met that morning. And oh, how handsome he looked when he smiled.
Selena understood why he might like the library.
She adored it herself. With its carved, vaulted ceiling, acres of books, and floors covered by lush Turkish carpets, the spacious chamber was an inviting and elegant space.
Comfortable sofas and chairs stood beside low mahogany end tables and a writing desk.
Tall casement windows with window seats, framed by velvet draperies, overlooked the swirling whiteness outside, and stuffed bookcases covered every other inch of available wall space.
“How splendid,” Dr. Scott enthused, taking in the place.
Mrs. Whitlock made a face. “Books are generally dusty and moldy, which is very bad for one’s health. And who could possibly have time to read all of these?”
Selena had patiently borne the woman’s unpleasant attitude until now, but an attack on books was more than she could bear.
“My dear Mrs. Whitlock, books contain all the knowledge of the universe. With mere marks of ink on a page, books can transport the reader to distant countries and worlds and teach us the most extraordinary things.”
“Indeed.” Dr. Scott gave Selena a nod. “Books allow us to enter the minds of people whom we would otherwise never have a chance to meet. They entertain us and challenge us, and they stir the heart. I, for one, cannot imagine a world without books—and one can never have too many.”
Mrs. Whitlock cast her eyes heavenward. “To each his own.”
Colonel Blackwood laughed. “I have never heard anyone express the purpose of books so eloquently as you two just did.”
Selena was equally delighted by the doctor’s words. “I have been a great reader since I was a child. Ever since I moved to Darkmoor Park two years ago, it has been my aim to read every book in this library.”
“How are you progressing with that?” The doctor arched a brow.
“Very slowly,” Selena admitted. “I’m afraid most of my time has been spent poring over science and mathematics textbooks and making lesson plans. But my goal lingers, and I have every belief that I shall achieve it by the time I reach the age of one hundred and seventy-three.”
Everyone laughed at that, even Mrs. Whitlock.
Maybe, Selena thought, the woman isn’t a complete killjoy, after all.
“Feel free to spend time in the library whenever you like,” she announced.
“You are welcome to borrow any book that takes your fancy, as long as you replace it before you leave. I placed a fresh supply of note paper in the top drawer of the desk, along with pens and pencils, should any of you wish to write a letter.”
Next, Selena led the party into the billiard room, where the men voiced their appreciation for the mahogany billiard table with its ornately carved legs and green felt surface.
“We’ll have to play a game one of these nights, eh, Mr. Davis?” the colonel remarked.
“Love to,” responded the gentleman.
“I play as well,” Miss Goodwin declared. “I’d love to join you.”
The comment caused Mrs. Whitlock to draw a shocked breath. “Billiards is a man’s game!”
“Public billiard rooms might be for men,” Miss Goodwin shot back, “but it is entirely acceptable for ladies to play billiards in private homes.”
“Well!” Mrs. Whitlock replied with a tightened jaw. “I hope you don’t intend to do so unchaperoned. You are not yet married, Miss Goodwin, and that would be unseemly.”
Miss Goodwin pursed her lips and looked away but made no reply.
Selena, who regarded the rules about chaperones for unmarried couples to be outdated—for how else were people to get to know each other, if someone else was always breathing down their necks?
—felt bad for the young lady. Mrs. Whitlock seemed determined to make everyone in the house the object of her scorn.
They proceeded to the music room, a well-appointed chamber paneled in textured wood featuring floral designs. A grand pianoforte and a harp stood before more than a dozen plush chairs, as if in readiness for a concert.
“We are hoping to sing Christmas carols here this evening,” Selena told the group. “Do any of you ladies play?” The room fell silent.
“What about you, Miss Goodwin?” Colonel Blackwood suggested.
Miss Goodwin’s cheeks grew pink. “I’m afraid I don’t play very well.”
“Nor do I,” Selena put in quickly, hoping to mitigate the young woman’s embarrassment. “We have no music master at present, so I am obliged to teach the subject at school. I can stumble along at the keys if need be—although I would prefer someone else to do it.”
Colonel Blackwood raised his hands as if warding off a blow. “I haven’t touched the instrument in my life.”
“I can play,” offered Miss Thompson tentatively. “If you like.”
Selena was struck once again by how quiet and withdrawn the young lady was, but the response from her employer reminded Selena of the reason behind it.
“You play?” Mrs. Whitlock’s tone was as derisive as the look she gave her companion. “I’ve never heard you so much as talk about music, much less play it,” she added with a disbelieving snort.
“That’s because you don’t own an instrument, ma’am,” Miss Thompson responded softly. “But I can play, and would be happy to, tonight—should you wish it, Miss Taylor. Christmas carols are generally easy enough even for a novice musician.”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Selena’s heart again went out to the unfairly disparaged young woman. Changing the subject, she added, “And now, let us move on to the chapel, shall we?”
At the far end of the north hall, a studded, wooden door like something out of a castle stood beneath a stone archway in the plastered wall.
“It can be a bit cold in here, for it’s an extension of the main house,” Selena explained as she opened the heavy door and gestured for the others to precede her into the sanctuary.
The chapel walls were fashioned from the same grey stone as the exterior of the house.
Two stained-glass windows in the side walls were flanked by clear glass, beyond which the snowstorm raged.
Selena crossed her arms over her chest against the chill, taking in the high, open-beamed ceiling, the ancient floor of grey stone, and the dozen rows of brown, wooden pews that faced an altar made of the same wood, upon which rested two massive brass candlesticks.
Along the walls stood several porcelain urns below niches holding statues of the saints and the Virgin Mary.
The humble beauty of the place seemed to inspire a sense of respect in the guests, except for the irrepressible Mrs. Whitlock. “It’s very plain,” she grumbled.
“True.” Selena’s voice echoed in the serene space. “The chapel was added on after the abbey was destroyed and it hasn’t been updated since. It’s simpler in design than the rest of the house, but I think equally beautiful in its own way.”
A spark lit Miss Thompson’s eyes and her mouth widened slightly. “You are fortunate to have a place of worship at Darkmoor Park.”