Chapter Eight #3
“Great minds think alike.” His eyes twinkled. “Mrs. Whitlock said that after she and Miss Thompson got here, they took a nap and didn’t see Mr. Clarke again until you gathered for drinks. Colonel Blackwood said he arrived with barely enough time to change for dinner. Which isn’t very helpful.”
“But good to know.”
He finished cleaning her forearm, where only mild red patches marred the skin with no blistering. “It’s healing nicely,” he proclaimed with satisfaction. “That poultice really did the trick.”
“You are a medical wizard.”
“Hardly.” He gently dried her forearm with a clean linen napkin. “You said you have information?”
“Yes.” They were seated in such close proximity that Selena was again aware of the heady scents of Dr. Scott’s shaving soap and sandalwood cologne. “I spoke to a number of servants.”
“And?”
Selena told him what she had learned.
“That’s great,” he enthused softly. “It confirms our theory.”
“Yes, but if Mr. Clarke hid the money outside, we’re doomed. It would be buried in snow by now.”
“It can’t snow forever. And that’s what shovels are for.”
Selena laughed.
“I can rebandage your arm if you like, but I don’t think I need to, as long as you keep it clean and dry.”
“I’ll do that. No bandage. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He rose and helped her to a stand. “I suggest we start our search in the rooms Mr. Clarke is known to have visited.”
Selena nodded. “Beginning with our group’s next stop, the chapel.”
He glanced at his pocket watch. “Where we are expected in five minutes.”
At that moment, Sam reentered the room. “Are you finished, sir?” He gestured to the items still on the table.
“Yes, thank you.” Dr. Scott handed the footman his medical bag. “Would you mind returning my bag to my room for me?”
“Of course, sir.” Sam took the bag and departed.
When Selena and Dr. Scott entered the chapel a few minutes later, the rest of the party was already inside. Mrs. Hillman was seated in the front row. The others were scattered among the pews. Selena and Dr. Scott slid onto a bench at the back of the room.
Colonel Blackwood addressed the group from the pulpit.
“I think I speak for us all when I say what an honor it is to be here, on this blessed Christmas Day, at this extraordinary haven, Darkmoor Park. Christmas is a very special time, a season that reminds us of the importance of shaping a world filled with compassion, kindness, and love. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hillman, for having us here and making us welcome—the motley crew who first met four years ago at the Worthing Seaside Hotel, as well as those who are new to us.”
Selena was touched by the colonel’s words. At the same time, she couldn’t help glancing around the chapel, wondering if Mr. Clarke had hidden the money here.
“But more than that, Mrs. Hillman,” the colonel went on.
“Thank you for insisting, with your constant letter writing over the years, that I keep in touch with you—for if it were up to me, such a poor correspondent as I am, I fear we would have fallen out of touch. I’m guessing you must have repeated the effort with Mrs. Whitlock as well as with Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Goodwin, God rest their souls, or this gathering would never be taking place. ”
“She did,” Mrs. Whitlock called out with a nod. “Every three months like clockwork, another letter.”
Laughter echoed within the chapel walls.
Selena noticed that Dr. Scott was also sweeping the interior of the sanctuary with his gaze, no doubt looking for a sign of a dragon. She studied the stone walls, the statues in the niches, the tall, ceramic urns. No dragons anywhere.
“I cannot go further,” Colonel Blackwood was saying, “without telling you how much I admired the man who ought to be sitting here among us this morning, Mr. Jack Clarke. He was my friend and companion for many a jolly day and evening. Some of you knew him better than I. Some of you only knew him a single evening. And one of you didn’t know him at all.
” At that, he glanced at Dr. Scott, who squirmed in his seat with a strained smile.
“But I know we all feel Mr. Clarke’s loss and are filled with sorrow about what happened. ”
Moisture pooled in Selena’s eyes. She reached into her handbag for a handkerchief and dried her tears.
“Let us take a few minutes of silence to honor the man.” The colonel clasped his hands before him. “Feel free to direct your mind however you like—to memories of Jack Clarke or, perhaps, to thoughts about mortality, and our own good fortune in being here, alive and well, today.”
The room fell silent. Selena was about to close her eyes and follow Colonel Blackwood’s directive, when the stained-glass window on one side of the chapel caught her notice.
She had sat in this chamber many dozens of times but had never paid much attention to the stained-glass windows.
In vivid shades of red, green, blue, white, and gold, two panels featuring winged and haloed angels flanked a central panel that was a tribute to St. George.
Selena gasped.
St. George sat astride a white horse and carried a long spear with which he was slaying … a fierce-looking dragon.