The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

ground below. Already the lane over which they drove was turning from white to mud.

“It is so pretty,” she murmured.

“It even makes Fivetrees look attractive,” added Royce. “Here we are.”

The looming towers and sharp-edged rooflines appeared as they rounded a bend. The snow softened them, and she had to agree that today, it looked less formally intimidating. But it also looked…soulless.

She said so, and both men reacted, Royce shooting her a quick puzzled glance, and Gabriel tightening his arms around her.

“Perhaps it’s the empty windows,” she mused aloud as they turned into the drive. “Or perhaps the lack of movement, light…smoke from the chimneys. I don’t know.”

Royce carefully negotiated the rutted surface, then pulled them up in front of the door. “Or both,” he said, as he prepared to jump down. Then he paused.

“That’s odd.”

“What?”

“Look on the steps. Up to the top. Do you see? Wait, let me tie off the horse and I’ll help you down.”

Alighting from Gabriel’s lap was a hardship, since their shared warmth had been most pleasant. But within moments they joined Royce next to the gig, staring at the entrance to Fivetrees.

“Footprints.” He nodded at them. “Clearer at the top in the shade. Almost invisible down here where the sun has already melted the snow.”

“Can’t be Trick or Jane’s,” said Gabriel. “This is fresh snow.”

“Last night, d’you think?” Gwyneth frowned. “Is someone here?”

The gig secured, Royce carefully picked his way up the concrete staircase, keeping to one side so as not to disturb the rapidly fading footprints. “I think…” he muttered, his eyes glued to the ground. “I think whoever was here has left.” He pointed. “Look, these prints are facing toward the door. But here…” He pointed to another spot. “They’re pointing the other way.”

“Leaving,” nodded Gabriel.

“I can’t say I like this,” Gwyneth admitted. “Thieves?”

“I don’t like it either,” agreed Royce. “Best we go inside and see if anything’s been stolen or damaged.” He approached the front door and turned the latch. It opened.

“Not good,” murmured Gwyneth.

“Let us go first, love,” advised Gabriel, his words kind but his tone unusually firm.

She wasn’t about to argue. “By all means.”

The men preceded her, the darkness of the Fivetrees hallway swallowing them up, leaving her alone on the steps.

But within moments, Gabriel returned. “It’s dead quiet,” he reported, holding out his hand. “Empty. I think we’ll be all right.”

She sighed with relief and let him lead her inside, shutting the door behind her.

It was, as he said, empty.

So empty you could feel the silence like a heavy weight. The sunlight barely penetrated, so she kept close to the others, trying to recall where Trick had said he and Jane were staying.

Royce opened a door and a little light flooded into the hall from the tall narrow windows he’d revealed. “This must be a parlour,” he looked around.

She peered inside. The furniture sat shrouded in holland covers, lumps of dusty linen, making the room seem more like a mausoleum. She expected to find such things, but didn’t realise how depressing it would be.

“And undisturbed,” said Gabriel, running fingers over the linen, then looking at them. “We’d know if someone had moved any of these covers.”

“Agreed.” Royce nodded. “We move on, then.”

So for the next hour or so, they entered every room, only to find the same covers, or in some places nothing at all but rolled up carpets lying along the walls.

“I believe Giles mentioned that Miss Fairhurst had taken all she wanted from here,” noted Gwyneth as she peered into what would have been the master bedroom.

“I haven’t seen anything I’d consider stealing, for certain,” remarked Gabriel, peering beneath a cover and shuddering. “Urgh. Horrid taste in furniture.”

Gwyneth couldn’t help grinning, but she turned to Royce. “Is it worth going through the servants’ quarters, d’you think?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Not at the moment, no. I confess I’m confused. Perhaps we missed something downstairs.”

“Well, I’d be happy to head back down,” Gabriel turned to the corridor. “It’s so depressing up here.”

“The whole house is depressing,” commented Gwyneth. “A lot of fancy bits and bobs, and very expensive furnishings, but no heart.”

“Good point.” Royce nodded, then led them downstairs again.

“The kitchens?” Gabriel asked.

“Might as well. Should be this way.” Royce headed down the hall toward a small door at the back, one that customarily would have admitted the servants into the upper regions of the house.

But oddly enough, it opened onto another corridor. “Hmm.”

Royce’s murmur reached Gwyneth’s ears. “What?”

“Another room.”

Gabriel stood close to Gwyneth. “Not the kitchen, then?”

Royce opened the door. “Oh no. Definitely not the kitchen.” He entered with the other two close behind him.

Gwyneth’s gasp escaped as she stared around her at what could only be described as chaos. “My heavens,” she mumbled.

It must have once been a study, but now it was a shambles of paper, drawers upturned and several chairs torn apart. Books lay everywhere, and not a single item lay untouched. Even the rugs had been raised and thrown in a pile.

“So this is where our intruders were headed?” She voiced the question even though she guessed the answer.

“What on earth were they looking for?” Gabriel’s tone was distressed. “This is…inexcusable. Look at this…” He pulled a small rug loose from the pile. “A lovely Axminster. Treating it like this…well, it’s unpardonable.”

“What would that be worth, Gabriel?” Royce raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, let me see…” Gabriel shook it out. “I’d guess several hundred pounds?”

“That tells us something,” Royce narrowed his eyes.

“They weren’t thieves,” said Gwyneth.

“Exactly.” Royce nodded. “If they were, they’d have taken the rugs at the very least.” He looked at the other two. “There are also some crystal fixtures. Those tiles in the fireplace. There is a lot here