The Vanishing at Loxby Manor, Abigail Wilson [best value ebook reader .TXT] 📗

eyes finding mine. “When we recovered Seline’s body, she wasn’t wearing a cloak.”

My heart seized in my chest. “She wasn’t?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Nor was one recovered anywhere nearby.”

I felt almost dizzy as I reached for a nearby branch. “The murderer must have removed it.”

He shrugged. “Or she took it off somewhere else, but why would she? And if that is true, why haven’t we found it?”

I started pacing. “We found my brooch on the road to Rushridge. Perhaps the cloak fell off sometime after that.”

“That is just what I think. Particularly if there was a struggle, the brooch could have easily come off then.”

I imagined what the gruesome scene might look like and my stomach turned, but not before an idea popped into my mind, whichI rolled around in my thoughts before lifting my eyebrows. “You said you assumed the figure in your dream was Seline, butshe was wearing a cloak and you couldn’t see her face. What if the murderer experienced just the opposite? What if he mistookSeline for someone else, and she was dead before he realized his mistake?

Piers flopped against a tree trunk as he ran his hand down his face. “You mean the killer thought he’d come upon Hugh on hisway home?”

“Exactly.”

We both stood in silence, my suggestion far too plausible to dismiss. What had Priscilla overheard the day Seline’s body wasfound? Something about Hugh wanting out. Was it possible that he was trying to leave the Gormogons?

Piers crossed his arms. “I need to speak with Avery again. I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface of this secret society.I continually get the feeling everyone is hiding something.”

I told him my suspicions of a fifth member and he hung his head, the lines that had set up residence on his forehead deepeningwith each revelation.

I touched his arm. “And the journal in the library has disappeared.”

His eyes rounded.

“It’s time to reopen the door to the investigation. Are you ready?”

“I will admit, the past few weeks have been like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.” He peeked down at my hand restingon his arm. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t at Loxby.”

Startled, I pulled away. “I did little to warrant any gratitude.”

“Just your being here, your wise council, your calm spirit. Believe me when I say it’s made all the difference. I may neverbe fully ready to learn who took the life of my sister, but at the same time, I cannot rest until I do. I know you feel thesame way.”

The gentle tug of his fingers urging me closer was nearly imperceptible, but with little more than a passing thought, willinglyI stepped forward into his waiting arms. The embrace was soft and gentle at first, like two friends, but as his hands madetheir way up my back, he drew me closer . . . closer . . . until my body pressed tight against his, his warmth seeping throughmy muscles like the relief of hot water on a bitter winter day. We held each other in comfortable silence for I don’t knowhow long, his head resting on mine, his arms terribly tight, as though if either one of us were to let go, the other mightsimply slip away.

I didn’t dare move as my heart beat wildly and my thoughts dissolved into the shimmering residue of fireworks that fall froma dark sky. He felt so good, so safe. The one man I could trust.

The one man I could trust. I repeated the idea over and over again in my mind, my muscles relaxing in turn as tears filled my eyes. Was this what Ihad been searching for all along? Had I simply confused the absence of pain with the absence of affection? With some half-bakedidea of self-preservation?

Eventually Piers’s hold slackened, and he took a step back, his gaze darting around the small grove as if lost.

It seemed the embrace had snuck up on both of us.

He gave me a tentative smile. “It’s time I walk you back to the house.”

I nodded, as was the proper answer to give, moving at once to accept his outstretched arm. But as I slid my hand onto thecrook of his jacket, a new, far more daring thought surged to the forefront of my mind, one I would be pondering for the daysto come—for the first time since the assault, with Piers and Piers alone, I would have been willing to stay right there inhis arms, to finally breach the wall of uncertainty I’d built to protect myself, to finally find out what would happen next,what hidden demons waited in the darkness beyond the wall.

*  *  *

Avery spent the weeks following the funeral at Rushridge with Hugh and Priscilla. Though Mrs. Cavanagh disparaged his choiceto abandon Loxby, I knew he left because he had to find a way to survive the overwhelming guilt, the never-ending sadness,the hole Seline’s departure had left in all our lives.

None of us would ever be the same, not on earth at least.

I doubted Avery would return home for some time. Thus I had quite a shock when I found him standing in the first-floor sittingroom staring out the large central window the very day I’d embraced Piers on our walk.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Good morning, Charity.” Gone was the carefree smile he’d always shared. Dark circles surroundedhis eyes, matching the black band on his arm. “I came to speak with Piers. Baker is fetching him for me.”

I crossed the room in silence, hesitant at first to come close, as I felt a bit of an intruder, but then I caught sight of the prospect beyond the glass. Small openings in the thick clouds had allowed the sun’s textured rays to filter through, painting ribbons of warmth and light that stretched from the heavens to the earth. I, too, was transfixed.

Avery didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Sometimes I imagine her gazing down on us, wondering why the devil we don’t just geton with our lives. Seline never did have any patience for introspection. She was far too impulsive for