slowly swung open.
With a curtsy to the auras beyond it Daphne said, “Thank you, ‘spirits.’”
Richard lowered the shield on the lantern. “A suitable jest.” He smiled and made a gracious bow to the open doorway. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”
Running past him to the open door Daphne called back, “Hurry. Don’t tempt them to lock us in again.”
“Them?” he said with arched eyebrow as he followed.
“’Twas you who said a spectre hit you in the back. Would you travel alone if you were a spectre?” she asked as Richard pushed the door shut behind them.
With a shake of his head Richard started towards the church.
Daphne remained in place. She looked around and saw the auras floating toward the church.
“Come along,” he whispered.
Daphne hesitated. If only she dared tell him about the auras. With a regretful shrug she joined him.
Inside the church Richard led the way to the window with the stone box. He held up the lantern.
“The figure here is the same,” Daphne whispered. She followed his hand and saw etched figures and the hole in the box. With a silent prayer she slipped the fluted edges of the object she had found in the mausoleum into the hole.
“Turn it,” Richard urged.
Both watched the metal slowly circle to the right when Daphne applied pressure. A soft click followed. The front of the box slid forward a half inch.
Richard eased it out another two and tried to reach inside. “My hand is too large,” he said. “See if you can feel anything inside it.”
With bated breath Daphne gingerly wriggled her fingers in the opening. They brushed against paper. She used two as pinchers to catch hold of a thin piece of folded parchment. Fraction by fraction she drew if forward until she could get a better grip. When it was free she turned eagerly to Richard.
“Please?” he said and held out a hand.
“’Tis your family,” Daphne said. She tamped down her eagerness and took the lantern from him . Then Daphne handed over the parchment and watched as he carefully unfolded it.
After staring at the paper for long moments, Richard looked up. “It is not the end but rather another beginning.”
“What do you mean?” Daphne accepted the paper and read,
“Arrived by houses crowded there they fill
No look for entertainment beyond ink and quill
That chamber has the tale to tell
Of feast grand and laurel plenty
With fair discourse the evening so they passed
Through thrice twice by Calibi’s Sea .”
Chapter Nine
Dremore House, London
September 21st
“It was the strangest experience,” Richard ended his edited explanation of what has taken place in Biddleage. He shoved away from the fireplace in his library and headed for a side table and the bottle of port upon it.
“I say, getting hit in the back by a spectre and doors unlocking and locking at will. Bloody strange,” Christopher Gunby agreed.
Uncertainty nibbled at Richard. Daphne Stratton was an ignorant dupe as Mother said. I cannot doubt the sincerity of her apology. But my reaction to her puzzles me. I’ve nev’r behaved so with any other woman. What is it about her that lays waste to my sleep and haunts my days? Destroys my intent to treat her honourably? Those gorgeous blue eyes? Her keen mind? The joy of solving the verse with her? Joy . He savoured the word. It fit perfectly. Well, most of the time.
“What happened with Miss Stratton? Later?”
“I never saw her after we left the church,” Richard told him. He refilled his friend’s glass and his. “She refused my escort back to the Clandons.”
“You permitted that?” At Richard’s shrug he asked, “She didn’t demand a copy of the verse you discovered?”
“You mean wouldn’t have discovered but for her. No, she did not. That alone makes me question whether or not she was there because of the mythical treasure.” He returned to his seat and stretched his legs out towards the warming fire. The burning logs crackled and
With a curtsy to the auras beyond it Daphne said, “Thank you, ‘spirits.’”
Richard lowered the shield on the lantern. “A suitable jest.” He smiled and made a gracious bow to the open doorway. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”
Running past him to the open door Daphne called back, “Hurry. Don’t tempt them to lock us in again.”
“Them?” he said with arched eyebrow as he followed.
“’Twas you who said a spectre hit you in the back. Would you travel alone if you were a spectre?” she asked as Richard pushed the door shut behind them.
With a shake of his head Richard started towards the church.
Daphne remained in place. She looked around and saw the auras floating toward the church.
“Come along,” he whispered.
Daphne hesitated. If only she dared tell him about the auras. With a regretful shrug she joined him.
Inside the church Richard led the way to the window with the stone box. He held up the lantern.
“The figure here is the same,” Daphne whispered. She followed his hand and saw etched figures and the hole in the box. With a silent prayer she slipped the fluted edges of the object she had found in the mausoleum into the hole.
“Turn it,” Richard urged.
Both watched the metal slowly circle to the right when Daphne applied pressure. A soft click followed. The front of the box slid forward a half inch.
Richard eased it out another two and tried to reach inside. “My hand is too large,” he said. “See if you can feel anything inside it.”
With bated breath Daphne gingerly wriggled her fingers in the opening. They brushed against paper. She used two as pinchers to catch hold of a thin piece of folded parchment. Fraction by fraction she drew if forward until she could get a better grip. When it was free she turned eagerly to Richard.
“Please?” he said and held out a hand.
“’Tis your family,” Daphne said. She tamped down her eagerness and took the lantern from him . Then Daphne handed over the parchment and watched as he carefully unfolded it.
After staring at the paper for long moments, Richard looked up. “It is not the end but rather another beginning.”
“What do you mean?” Daphne accepted the paper and read,
“Arrived by houses crowded there they fill
No look for entertainment beyond ink and quill
That chamber has the tale to tell
Of feast grand and laurel plenty
With fair discourse the evening so they passed
Through thrice twice by Calibi’s Sea .”
Chapter Nine
Dremore House, London
September 21st
“It was the strangest experience,” Richard ended his edited explanation of what has taken place in Biddleage. He shoved away from the fireplace in his library and headed for a side table and the bottle of port upon it.
“I say, getting hit in the back by a spectre and doors unlocking and locking at will. Bloody strange,” Christopher Gunby agreed.
Uncertainty nibbled at Richard. Daphne Stratton was an ignorant dupe as Mother said. I cannot doubt the sincerity of her apology. But my reaction to her puzzles me. I’ve nev’r behaved so with any other woman. What is it about her that lays waste to my sleep and haunts my days? Destroys my intent to treat her honourably? Those gorgeous blue eyes? Her keen mind? The joy of solving the verse with her? Joy . He savoured the word. It fit perfectly. Well, most of the time.
“What happened with Miss Stratton? Later?”
“I never saw her after we left the church,” Richard told him. He refilled his friend’s glass and his. “She refused my escort back to the Clandons.”
“You permitted that?” At Richard’s shrug he asked, “She didn’t demand a copy of the verse you discovered?”
“You mean wouldn’t have discovered but for her. No, she did not. That alone makes me question whether or not she was there because of the mythical treasure.” He returned to his seat and stretched his legs out towards the warming fire. The burning logs crackled and
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