Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Good lord, Peverill,” Justin said, watching him saddle Brutus with deft efficiency. The stallion pinned his ears and kicked the stall door, but Peverill did not notice. “You can slow down. They won’t match us for speed once we start riding.”
“Damnit, Wright!” he muttered. “You do realize that they are running headlong into stealing your fortune out from underneath you? And after all you’ve done for the estate… it’s bloody highway robbery!”
Buttercup huffed as Sam fed the bit to her and Justin patted her shoulder. Peverill led Brutus into the stable yard and had swung up on the stallion’s back by the time Sam had finished tacking up the dappled mare.
“This wouldn’t have something to do with… misplaced frustrations, would it?” Justin asked his friend, who was gesturing for him to hurry up by waving his hand in a frantic circle. It had become clear that the sworn bachelor was confounded by a certain deaf beauty who was immune to his charms.
“Now you’re spouting this nonsense!” Peverill shouted. “By God, there’s something in the water on this wretched piece of land. The mad treasure hunt should have been enough to dissuade me from returning.”
Justin simply laughed and squeezed Buttercup’s sides, urging her into a canter.
Brutus took off at lightning speed, but Justin did not press his horse to keep up.
It had not been long since the ladies had climbed out their bedroom window.
Sure enough, he saw flashes of pastel linen up ahead.
They had congregated outside the walls of an old stone structure.
“The cemetery,” Peverill noted, dismounting and dropping the reins.
Justin swallowed. His father would be buried in there, somewhere. He shook off the thought as Bea caught sight of them.
“They’re here!” she sang out, and Portia turned around to scowl at them.
Peverill and Justin picked their way through tombstones until they joined the small congregation before the Nichols family mausoleum. Veritas Omnia Vincit was carved on a lintel that framed the entryway. Truth conquers all.
“Well met,” Peverill intoned sarcastically. “Afraid of ghosts, are we?”
“Is there anything more boring than a charming rake?” Portia said under her breath, and Justin had to fight to hold in his laughter.
“We realized… too late, that we did not bring any source of light. It can get dreadfully dark in the family crypt,” Cordelia replied.
“Looks like you may have a need of us after all,” Justin said, reaching in his jacket pocket for a small box of matches. “Are there torches on the wall?”
Portia, stepping into the doorway, produced one that looked like it had been burned before, and still smelled of oil. She handed it to Justin, who held the torch aloft as it caught light. The entire party seemed to tense as they all regarded one another.
“We should… perhaps elect someone to go in,” Cordelia said. “It is crowded down there already, and there won’t be a need for all of us.”
“Hermione discovered the cipher,” Portia piped up.
“B-but L-L-Lia was th-the one wh-who s-s-s-solved it,” she said, her voice shuddering and nervous.
“I think Cordelia should go,” Bea added. “She’s the eldest anyway.”
“The one time this might be a bad thing,” she murmured.
“And of course, Wright, you’ll go down too,” Peverill tacked on. “It’s only fair… after all, this is his property.”
Though Portia’s icy stare trained on him, there seemed to be no loud objections from the group. “I’ll go, but only if Cordelia agrees,” Justin said, turning to face her.
Cordelia regarded him for a moment, her gaze thoughtful and a little more restrained than it had been in the drawing room. After a moment, she nodded. “All right then, we have settled it. As it said in the will, whoever finds the fortune first, keeps its riches.”
“Shake on it,” Portia ground out.
“On my word,” Cordelia said in a solemn tone.
“And mine,” Justin added, taking her delicate hand in his.
The touch awakened something in him that he’d been suppressing for the last few days. He had the sudden urge to draw her into his arms again and hold her there for as long as he wished. His heart pounded, thinking about how close this was to ending, and how much, suddenly, he did not want it to.
As they turned into the open doorway of the mausoleum, he was struck by the thought that the past six weeks at Hollyhead had been the best in recent memory. He’d not laughed as much or felt so alive as he was surrounded by the genteel chaos of the Nichols family. He would miss them.
He would miss her.
*
Cordelia allowed Justin to lead the way. It had been a little over six weeks ago when they had entombed her brother here, and it felt strange to be brought back to this place. What would she have done then if she’d known how life would unfold for her?
There was a pit in her stomach as different worries crossed her mind.
What if there is no treasure? Justin had echoed that sentiment to her over a week ago, and it still stood to reason.
If that turned out to be the case then she had royally cocked up her life and all of her ensuing prospects, and not only for herself. But the fear did not last long.
They had come to the bottom of the stairs. The air was cold and damp, smelling of soil.
“Where shall I give you light?” he asked, craning his neck around.
“Mother’s casket is located here,” she said, moving to the right. Eventually the torch lit up enough of the space so she could see the arcosolium that housed her mother’s stone coffin.
“Amazing,” Justin murmured, leaning closer to examine the intricate carving, which made the sarcophagus look like it was covered in living fauna.
Cordelia ran her hands along the slides, feeling for any nooks or crannies where jewelry could be stashed away. “She loved roses, my mother,” Cordelia said. “She planted the garden full of them. They’ll be blooming in another week.”
“It’s a shame I won’t be here to see it,” Justin replied.
“Oh?” Cordelia added, trying to seem nonchalant. “I thought you would at least be seeing the rest of summer here, at the estate.”
“I’ve ignored my affairs in London too long,” he said, offering her a crooked smile. “Though this has been a lovely respite, I’ll need to return to my real life at some point.”
Cordelia did not answer, instead turning her full attention to the task at hand.
Cordelia could hear muffled voices from the group as they waited for them at the top of the stairs.
But soon, that faded too. The sound of her and Justin’s breathing steadied her.
She continued to run her fingers over the thorny relief, pressing her fingers lightly along the wall of the sarcophagus.
Cordelia’s mother had been laid to rest in this mausoleum for nearly nine years now, having died shortly after Bea was born. She had come to visit occasionally, but always from afar. She found the atmosphere inside the family tomb oppressive. Her breath hitched as she considered it.
“If I were an architect designing such a piece,” Justin murmured, “I would have perhaps hidden it along the edges. Easier to work in a hidden chamber there.”
He was standing closer to her now, the light from the torch illuminating a small copse of Tudor roses that were clustered on the edge of the coffin.
Peering closer, Cordelia noticed that one of the rose’s floral discs was copper and flat, glinting from the torchlight. She blew on it, wiping the dust away.
“I-I think it may be…” she began, pressing her thumb against the shiny nub.
Cordelia gasped as it pressed into the stonework, and she heard the heavy clank of gears turning.
“You knew!” she nearly shouted. “You knew!”
Justin smiled. “Lucky guess.”
Cordelia almost didn’t notice the stream of tears beginning to run down the side of her face, until her companion produced a handkerchief in his hand. “Thank you,” she said, watching the secret compartment eke out of the side of her mother’s coffin. It was no larger than a jewelry box.
“Here,” Justin said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll give this to you. You should have a moment alone.” He handed her the torch.
Before she could protest, Justin had made it up the stone stairs and she was unaccompanied.
With a deep sigh, she steeled herself before reaching into the compartment.
Lord knew what kind of creatures could be lurking in a damp, shadowy place after so many years.
Closing her eyes, she dipped her index finger in and felt…
were they rocks? She tried to tamp down her disappointment.
This would not be the first time her father had led them astray.
Pulling back, she shone the torch into the compartment, standing to her full height.
She gasped, nearly dropping the flame.
Jewels of every color, size, and cut were pressed together in the little container, along with gold coins. It was truly a pirate’s treasure. It would be enough for their dowries. Hell, it would be enough for all of Hollyhead.
Suddenly dizzy, Cordelia found herself leaning against her mother’s coffin.
“Lia!” a voice called from up above. “Lia, are you all right down there?”
“Yes, dearest!” she answered, surprised to hear the composure echoing in her own voice. “I’ll be up soon.”
Cordelia didn’t have a purse or any other instrument in which to carry these spoils, so instead she clicked the little drawer closed.
Now that the dust had been wiped from the sarcophagus, she could see the small incision marks where the secret vault was kept.
It would not be difficult to find later.
Gathering up her skirts, she held the torch aloft and climbed the stairs.