Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Reunited with his beloved, Owen felt the sense of rightness that had eluded him for so long.
This is where I am meant to be. Finn is my home. Solving this riddle is part of our destiny.
Oddly, the daunting task didn’t intimidate him.
Fate—or some other mysterious force—had brought him and Finn together to love and heal one another.
It had led them here, to Chuddums, where his three siblings before him had found true love.
If, as the rhyme claimed, Rose and Thomas were to be trapped in this earthly realm until “love’s seasons” freed them, then Owen and Finn had to be the fourth and last season.
The women had been right from the start.
Even now, the promises Owen and Finn had made to each other were leading them to uncover the secrets Felix Pearce had taken such pains to hide.
Ultimately, these facts would help them undo the real curse: the lies that had obscured the true story of Rose and Thomas.
Xenia had refreshments brought in, and everyone gathered around the coffee table, sipping tea and contemplating the various clues, assembled together for the first time.
Owen occupied the sofa with Finn on one side, Gigi on the other.
He read Pearce’s letter again, Gigi doing the same over his shoulder.
“At least this proves that Felix was trying to be a hero,” Gigi said. “He knew about his brother’s trespasses and wanted to make things right. That is why he took the family heirloom and hid it for Rose to find if she came back. It was to be restitution.”
“Couldn’t he have been more explicit?” Grantley muttered from an adjacent chair. “It would have been nice if he’d simply said, Apologies that my brother Langdon was such an evil bastard. Please accept these emeralds as payment for all the suffering he caused.”
“Felix was wise to be discreet,” James pointed out from the opposite settee. “If his family found this letter, they might have discovered the location of the jewels and his testimony. They would have destroyed any evidence incriminating their golden son. Felix had to choose his words with care.”
“I agree,” Finn said. “In some ways, Felix was as powerless as Rose. The villagers turned Rose into a monster; Felix’s family erased him. Perhaps that was why he wanted justice for her…because he knew how it felt to be an outsider. Has any progress been made on finding his gravesite?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Grantley said.
“We searched the mill, but nothing came of it,” Papa added. “We could continue our efforts, but it feels like we are looking for that proverbial needle.”
“Something is not right.” Leaning forward, Finn tapped her finger on the last clue.
“Felix tells us specifically that the last of his gift is not for finding but for knowing…that we won’t come to it by searching.
I think I may have led us astray. Maybe the hiding place has nothing to do with Felix. ”
“Your reasoning was sound,” Owen said.
She chewed on her lip. “Was it? I thought Felix intended for us to find his final resting place to validate his existence. But perhaps the truth is even sadder. Perhaps he understood his family too well and realized that they would erase him completely after his death. Just as they expunged him from the parish records, so too might they cause his remains to be lost forever. He himself might not have known where he would end up. In that case, how could he hide the jewels there beforehand?”
Her logic was sobering.
Owen squeezed her hand. “Let us start over and think of other possibilities.”
“You have the benefit of fresh eyes,” Mama said. “For instance, what jumps out at me is this bit about looking beneath the lie. What might Felix be referring to?”
“I recorded a list of possibilities from our last discussion.” Xenia consulted her notebook.
“The most obvious lie is that Rose killed Thomas; we believe the real murderer was Langdon Pearce. Another falsehood is that Rose and Thomas were enemies. They were, in fact, lovers and later man and wife. Finally, the villagers claimed Rose was a witch.”
Mama raised her brows. “None of those lies bring to mind a specific, physical location?”
“We’ve searched several places frequented by Rose and Thomas.” Owen counted off the places on his fingers. “The hidden room behind the fireplace, the rose garden, the caldarium, and the yew tree by the stream. We found some clues but no treasure.”
“I suppose we could look in the hermit’s grotto,” Evie said.
At Finn’s questioning glance, she clarified, “It is a place I saw in my visions. But it’s tiny, with few places to hide things. Manderly and I have, um, spent considerable time there.” She blushed. “We probably would have stumbled upon the jewels by now.”
“Maybe there is another lie we haven’t considered,” Mama suggested.
“What are you thinking, Penny?” Papa asked.
“We’re looking for a particular kind of fiction, aren’t we? One that is explicitly tied to a place where jewels could be concealed.”
“Bottoms House is the obvious place,” Gigi said slowly. “The lies that circulated about Rose and Thomas began when he was killed here.”
“We have renovated the estate from top to bottom,” Ethan said. “Wouldn’t the cache have turned up by now?”
“By that logic, the entire village would be a candidate,” Grantley said.
“Think of all the lies that have spread in Chuddums over the decades. Actually, never mind decades—think of what happened mere months ago. Everyone believed my erstwhile relation Abel Pearce was an upstanding citizen. In reality, he was a scheming bastard who had a habit of aiding cutthroats and engaging in criminal behavior.”
“Thank goodness you exposed his true nature, darling,” Gigi said. “Otherwise, he might still be exploiting the village for his own gain.”
“If nothing else, you saved us from that eyesore of a monument he dedicated to himself,” Ethan said with feeling. “That monstrosity ruined the entire village green. I nearly cheered when it was removed.”
“Pearce’s true nature.” Finn sat up straight, her eyes wide. “That is the lie.”
“What does Abel Pearce have to do with anything?” Grantley asked.
“Not Abel—Langdon. I had it wrong. The lie didn’t have to do with the perception of Felix but Langdon.
Langdon’s sterling reputation blinded people to the truth of what he’d done to Rose and Thomas.
That is the biggest lie of them all. And Felix, invisible and observant, would have known this better than anyone.
All we have to do now is look beneath the lie—which has been in plain sight the entire time. ”
The realization struck Owen.
“The founder’s monument,” he said. “Bloody hell, you’re a clever chit, Finn.”
“It wasn’t just me. I had help.” Excitement sparkled in her eyes. “Let us hope that the treasure is still there after all this time.”
They waited until midnight to enter the village green.
While Finn had simmered with impatience, she understood the need for discretion.
To the villagers, Langdon Pearce was a saint and to desecrate the stone placed in his honor was akin to sacrilege.
If she was wrong about the treasure’s location, then she—and the Harringtons—would have much to answer for in the morning.
They arrived at the small slab of reddish stone, set beneath the bare branches of the withered tree. Finn had passed the monument on numerous occasions, but the flickering light of the lanterns and shifting clouds imbued the area with a sinister feeling.
“In memory of Langdon Pearce, Hero and Soldier of Justice, May He Rest in Peace.” Lord Ethan read the dedication plaque aloud, his tone cutting. “Not for long. Ready to have at it, fellows?”
Owen distributed the shovels to the men.
“Ready,” he said.
“I can help,” Finn offered.
To her surprise, the marchioness drew her aside.
“Leave the mucking about in the dirt to the males,” Lady Blackwood advised. “It is a bonding activity and makes them feel manly.”
“Yes, my lady,” Finn said.
“You might as well call me Mama, dear—or Penny if you wish. Since we are soon to become family.”
The invitation warmed Finn to the marrow. “That is kind of you, um, Mama.”
“I am not being kind. I quite like you.” Mama smiled. “We have a great deal in common, you and I, and one day I shall tell you about it.”
Finn had no idea how that could possibly be true, but she was distracted by Owen. He’d assembled Manderly, Grantley, and his papa around the monument, and they each held a shovel.
“We are doing this, then,” Owen stated.
He looked at Finn, and she saw he was aware of the significance of their actions. They were about to topple a decades-old shrine to an exalted figure. If they were wrong in their suppositions, there would be no going back.
“Do it,” she said.
The shovels hit the ground. The men worked quickly, piling up dirt behind them as they excavated the area around the stone. Meanwhile, Lord Ethan was giving orders that had the others rolling their eyes—or in Owen’s case, tossing a chunk of earth at him.
Owen, Finn saw with smug pride, worked the most efficiently.
The area he’d cleared was bigger than anyone else’s, and she didn’t mind the view of him, either.
He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, his sinewy forearms rippling as he tossed back shovelfuls of dirt.
The monument began to sink, slowly at first, then faster.
Suddenly, it tilted, plunging at a lopsided angle.
A fissure showed behind the plaque, spreading quickly through the stone.
Finn felt a twinge of apprehension. If she was wrong—
“I think I hit something,” Owen said.
He tapped his shovel a few feet beneath the sunken monument, and Finn heard it too: the clanging of metal on metal. He dug out what appeared to be a metal box.
He climbed out of the hole, saying with a smile, “The honor belongs to you.”
Everyone gathered with their lanterns. Owen held the box as Finn opened the lid with hands that shook.
Her breath held as she saw the velvet bags nestled in flannel and oilcloth.
Carefully, she opened the bag on top and removed the contents.
She stared, awestruck, at the dazzling pair of emerald-and-diamond earbobs in her palm.
“Heavens,” Gigi breathed. “Those earbobs must be worth a fortune!”
“There’s more where that came from,” Finn said.
She emptied the pouches, revealing a necklace, brooch, bracelet, and diadem.
The parure had to be worth a king’s ransom—or in this case, her gang’s.
But what she found at the bottom of the box was equally priceless.
Reverently, she lifted out the oilskin packet.
The group exhaled as one when she pulled out a leather-bound journal.
She flipped open the worn cover and read the faded but clear words aloud:
I, Felix Pearce, attest that every word written in this journal is mine and the truth as I witnessed it, so help me God.
When these facts come to light, I pray that Rosalinda and Thomas Mulligan will be granted the peace and justice they rightly deserve—and that Langdon Pearce, my brother and the true villain of this tale, will be judged for his nefarious actions.
With these words, I will break the bonds of silence and cowardice that have trapped me. May the truth set me free to fly toward my heavenly Father.
“We have proof,” Xenia said tearfully. “Of Rose’s innocence and Langdon’s villainy.”
“And we have the jewels,” Owen said. “To barter for the Hawks’ freedom.”
He opened his arms, and her eyes burning with relief, Finn walked into them.