Chapter Seven #2
“I met Mr. Clarke. You did not. I liked him. Everyone said he was a good man with good intentions. But perhaps he worried that he’d said too much that night at the White Hart Inn.
Even though he had given two hundred pounds to Mrs. Hillman—money that I presume was his own—the remaining five thousand pounds would be a huge temptation to anyone.
” Selena took a breath. “After he arrived here, I think he hid that money to keep it safe.”
He nodded slowly. “The same things have occurred to me.”
Selena’s pulse leaped. She’d been right.
Dr. Scott felt as she did about all this.
She could use an ally in her search—and the idea of spending more time in his company was appealing.
But she had known Dr. Scott less than day.
She still suspected he was hiding something, and she kept telling herself he was too handsome to be trusted.
But perhaps she was being unduly suspicious. Just because she’d had bad experiences in the past didn’t mean that Adrian Scott was duplicitous. He was a doctor. He had treated her burned arm so tenderly just now. If you couldn’t trust a doctor to be forthright and honest, whom could you trust?
She let go of her doubts and plunged in. “Mr. Clarke intended to bring that money back home and tell the police what was going on. Since he’s no longer here to do it, let’s join forces, find the money, and return it to the hospital building fund for him.”
“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Scott’s brows shot upwards. “I’m not about to embark on a treasure hunt at Darkmoor Park.”
“Aren’t you?” As they passed the morning room, she paused and shot him a challenging look. “When you walked into Mr. Clarke’s room today, it wasn’t by mistake, was it? You went to see if he might have stashed the money there.”
Dr. Scott’s mouth opened and just as quickly closed. He stopped beside her. “Fine. Yes. I was looking for it. Because … perhaps because I know how desperately new hospitals are needed in London. His room seemed like a logical place to start.”
“I was there for the same reason,” Selena admitted.
“I surmised as much. I take it you didn’t find anything?”
“Other than that letter and cheque, no.”
He heaved a sigh. “I admit, I’d like to find that money as much as you would. But I’d rather look on my own.”
Selena shook her head. “I can’t have you investigating this without me. I can snoop anywhere I want, and I know this house like the back of my hand. Besides, two heads are better than one.”
One corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Is that another one of your mother’s favorite sayings?”
“Yes, and it’s true. A couple of years ago, my sister Athena and I solved a mystery that would have confounded Confucius himself. With your help, I believe we can do this.”
Dr. Scott’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be considering her offer. Just then, a sound broke the stillness—a soft crackle and thud that made Selena jump.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Dr. Scott replied in a lowered tone.
“It sounded as if it came from the morning room.” He put a finger to his lips and quietly entered the open doorway nearby.
Selena followed. Raising their candlesticks, they surveyed the darkened chamber.
The heavy draperies were shut on the tall windows.
Snacks had been set out on the sideboard.
A dirty plate lay on the table, suggesting that someone had been here after it had last been cleaned—but no one else was there now.
“I smell smoke, as if from a snuffed candle.” Selena, worried, gestured towards the second door on the far side of the room. “Do you think someone overheard our suspicions and fled through the other door?”
“I hope not.” Dr. Scott gestured to the hearth, where a red-hot log had tumbled from the stack and lay at the front edge of the grate. “Ah. There’s the culprit. That explains the sound we heard, as well as the smoke.”
Selena nodded in relief. “Thank goodness. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy.”
“It’s understandable. It’s been a long and difficult day.”
They left the morning room and headed up the main staircase. As they passed the half-landing, Selena shuddered, remembering the calamity that had occurred there that morning. The doctor was right. It was no wonder that she was jumpy.
When they’d reached the first floor, Dr. Scott stopped and said in a hushed voice, “We should keep our voices down when we talk about this. I’d rather the household at large didn’t get the notion to join us on a treasure hunt.”
Selena’s heart stuttered. “‘Join us’?” she whispered. “Does that mean you’re in?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and replied just as quietly, “As you said, two heads are better than one, and I can’t very well sneak about on my own now.”
Selena felt all lit up inside. “True.”
“But where would we even begin to look?” he asked softly. “Darkmoor Park is an enormous house. It could be anywhere.”
“Perhaps not.” Selena glanced up and down the hallway.
It was empty. Still, it wouldn’t do to discuss this in the hall.
She indicated a nearby door. “Follow me.” Selena led the doctor into the small parlor at the head of the stairs.
“Our students often do their homework in here, but otherwise, it’s rarely used,” she said as she closed the door behind them.
The cozy chamber was outfitted with several comfortable chairs, a sofa, and a writing desk. A low fire glowed in the hearth and the only other light was provided by their two candles.
The doctor’s mouth grew tense. “Miss Taylor. We shouldn’t be in here alone together.”
Selena waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s not worry about propriety, shall we, Doctor?
If we’re going on a treasure hunt, I suspect we’ll be spending a lot of time alone together.
” The instant the statement had left her mouth, Selena felt a heat rise to her face.
She wasn’t sure what had given her the audacity to say something so bold—this wasn’t how she usually behaved—but it was too late to take it back.
“Won’t your beau be upset if he learns about this?” the doctor persisted.
“My ‘beau’?” Selena stared at him.
“I can only presume that a woman as smart and beautiful as you would be … if not spoken for, at least involved with a gentleman who was unable to join you for Christmas.”
Selena’s blush deepened. Had he just called her smart and beautiful? “I am not involved with anyone, Doctor. I am a spinster schoolteacher.”
His brows arched. “I see.”
Was it her imagination? Or did he seem as pleased to hear that as she had been upon learning that he was unattached? “Anyway,” she added swiftly, “if anyone asks, you can say I had a fainting fit and you had to tend to me in here. Who would challenge you? You’re a doctor.”
His lips twitched. “Very well.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, why are we here?”
“Because.” Selena clasped her hands with excitement. “With regard to the hidden money … I think I have a clue to its whereabouts.”
His eyes widened. “What clue?”
“When you asked me this morning if Mr. Clarke had said anything before he lost consciousness, I wasn’t exactly forthcoming. He did say something.”
Dr. Scott gave her a sharp glance. “What did he say?”
“He grabbed my arm, looked me in the eyes, and—with great intensity—he said, ‘I hid it.’”
“‘I hid it’?”
“Yes! Don’t you see? He was talking about the money!”
“Perhaps,” Dr. Scott acknowledged. “Did he say anything else?”
“Yes. He had trouble speaking, but I remember every word. He said, ‘Under the dragon.’ And then, ‘Four rows! In the …’ Then he broke off and said no more.”
“‘Under the dragon’? ‘Four rows’?” Dr. Scott repeated slowly, his forehead creasing. “And you think … what? That Mr. Clarke guessed he might be dying and wanted you to know he’d hidden something, and where it could be found?”
“I’m certain of it.”
Dr. Scott paced back and forth before the hearth. “What do you think it means? That business about a dragon? Is there anything or any place at Darkmoor Park that has a dragon motif?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only lived here a couple of years. But there must be. I’ll have to ask Mrs. Hillman.”
“You’re sure he said ‘four rows’?”
“That’s what he said.” A sudden thought occurred to Selena, and she took a breath. “Wait. I might be wrong. Maybe he didn’t say rows, as in R-O-W-S, but rather, rose. As in the flower.”
“I doubt it. If so, he would have said, ‘four roses,’ plural.”
“Not necessarily. Mrs. Hillman’s first name is Rose. Maybe he was saying, ‘For Rose.’”
Dr. Scott took that in. “Hmm. But he had already repaid Mrs. Hillman the money he owed her.” He shook his head. “I believe his dying words were about the rest of the money, and where he’d hidden it.”
Selena nodded. “Well, then, we have our marching orders. We need to find some kind of dragon motif and presumably, four rows of something nearby.” She paused, thinking.
“By the way, Miss Goodwin said that Mr. Clarke claimed to have fifty-two hundred pounds in fifty-pound notes in his coat pocket. How big would that wad of cash be?”
The doctor mulled that over. “Not all that big. If in one stack, I’d guess it would be about half an inch tall.”
“Too big for his billfold, I suppose. But he could have kept it in a small pouch in his coat pocket.”
“Yes.”
She hesitated again. “Do you think we ought to tell Mrs. Hillman?”
Dr. Scott frowned. “This is all just a theory at present. Until we find it, let’s keep this to ourselves. If she were to inadvertently say something—if someone else were to get there first—we can’t guarantee that their intentions would be honorable.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“And now, we need a plan.”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Hillman if there are any dragons about the place. And I’ll question the servants to find out if anyone saw Mr. Clarke engaged in any suspicious activity yesterday.”
“I’ll do the same with the guests,” he proposed. “Discreetly, of course.”
“We must agree to freely share any information we find.”
“Of course.”
Selena extended her right hand. “Shall we shake on it?”
“Agreed.”
His grip was firm and his touch and the look on his face sent a quiver up Selena’s arm. Did he feel it, too? Perhaps he did, for his expression seemed to share her own reluctance when he let her hand go.
He cleared his throat. “We’ve been sequestered in here long enough. Let’s hope nobody has noticed.”
She accompanied him to the door. He opened it and peeked into the hallway. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to back face her, his gaze filled with warmth. The grandfather clock on the landing began to chime the hour. One. Two. Three. Four.
“Goodnight, Miss Taylor,” he said. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
“Goodnight, Dr. Scott.” Her voice was so tremulous, it sounded foreign to her ears. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
When the final bell rang out, he kissed his fingertips and touched them tenderly to Selena’s cheek. Sparks coursed through her body as he said softly, “Happy Christmas.”