I gained some respect from the house party by winning half the wickets, but Lady Breckenridge and Grenville won the game.
'That is five guineas you owe me, Gabriel,' Lady Breckenridge said as we returned to the shade of the terrace. The butler passed among us with a tray of lemonade.
'And I will pay the debt,' I said. 'At the moment, I need to return a horse and make some inquiries.'
'Lady Southwick has planned an outing for us, it seems,' Grenville said, sipping lemonade. 'She's going to cart us all down to Binham to stroll about the ruins of the priory. And have a picnic.'
'I will have to join the house party there,' I said. 'Or perhaps I should excuse myself to Lady Southwick altogether and take rooms over the tavern at Parson's Point.'
'Do not, Gabriel,' Lady Breckenridge said severely. 'I do not tell you this only because I'd never forgive you if you left me to deal with Lady Southwick alone, I tell it to you for your own good. I know that other matters are pulling at your attention, but they will accuse you of not being able to hold your own at a society house party. The story will be told and retold through the shooting season and on into spring. They'd make a laughingstock of you.'
I hardly cared, but I knew Donata did. She had to live among these people, and she was drawing me into her world. She had once told me that she liked me because I did not behave as expected, but she took a large risk, socially, attaching herself to me.
'Then I will stay,' I said. 'But I must see about the horse, and I must make certain that the Lacey house remains in one piece.'
'I will placate Lady Southwick for you,' Donata said. 'And continue my discreet inquiries about the gown.'
'Ask Lady Southwick about Helena Quinn, and whatever scandal surrounds her.'
Lady Breckenridge looked surprised. 'You have a woman in mind already for the owner of the dress?'
'I might. She disappeared about the same time that the gown was made. Helena was the vicar's daughter; I imagine Lady Southwick knows the story, or at least the gist of it.'
'Hmm.' Lady Breckenridge took a sip of lemonade, made a face, and dumped the rest of the glass's contents into the rhododendrons. 'I shall endeavor.'
'What shall I do, Lacey?' Grenville asked.
'Look after Donata, for now,' I said. 'Especially on this jaunt to the priory, and stay on guard for yourself. Ferguson was killed in a brutal fashion by someone very strong. That someone is still at large. I'd rather not have him decide that you saw him and can identify him.'
Grenville's exuberance dimmed. 'Do you know, Lacey, when I found the man, I felt a very sharp pain in my chest-exactly where that knife went into me. I thought, for a split second, that the killer was there and had stabbed me to keep me silent. I swore I felt myself falling to the ground. But no, Matthias was next to me, holding me up, taking me outside. When I looked down, there was no knife in me, no blood. I even opened my waistcoat and stuck my hand inside my shirt to make sure I was whole. Is that not odd?'
Not at all. I woke in the night sometimes, thinking I hung upside down from a tree, my left leg a torn and shattered mess, while French soldiers laughed up at me. They'd enjoyed themselves swinging me like a pendulum.
'It is to be expected,' I said.
'I make too much of it,' Grenville said. He drew out his handkerchief and dabbed his face. 'I've styled myself as a man not afraid to face danger, but I realize that before someone stabbed me in the dark, I'd never truly faced it. Stepping into that place last night, finding Ferguson there… Please tell no one how suddenly terrified I was.'
Donata touched his arm. 'You are among friends.'
I said, 'I am not astonished at your fear. What astonishes me is that you went into the place at all.'
'Curiosity and arrogance. I had stout Matthias with me and no idea that violence lurked in the corner. I will take more care at the priory.'
'Please do.' I said. I kissed Donata's smooth cheek and left to make my excuses to Lady Southwick.
When I reached the stables, I discovered that the horse Buckley in Parson's Point had lent me had been returned to him by one of the under grooms. The head groom told me this, and also told me, looking very put out, that the horse I'd borrowed from Lady Southwick yesterday had not turned up.
I told the man I'd hunt for the horse and asked if anyone nearby would allow me to hire a horse for the day. Before he could answer, Grenville's coachman, Jackson, stepped up and said that Grenville had told him to keep the carriage ready for my use whenever I wanted it.
Because I did not much want to drag myself to the next village to try to find a horse for hire, I took up Jackson on the offer. Grenville had brought his landau, open for the warm weather, and I rolled off in this luxury.
I was anxious to reach my own home, but I was equally anxious to talk to Bartholomew, who'd gone to search the windmill. I directed Jackson to Easton's house, and we reached it in a short while.
Easton's household had definitely gone. One of Denis's pugilists came out of the house to open the carriage door for me. This particular man had helped me search for missing girls from Covent Garden earlier this year, and knew Jackson, who'd also helped with the search. He gave me a salute and stayed behind to speak to Jackson while I started to walk down the footpath toward the windmill.
Another man came out of the house before I could get far and told me Denis wished to speak to me. I did not want to see Denis; I'd come to the house to look at the windmill and to inquire whether Cooper had returned.
The man stood solidly in front of me, however, until I agreed to follow him back to the house and inside. He led me upstairs and ushered me into Brigadier Easton's study.
Denis had commandeered the desk. Easton's personal papers and trinkets had gone, replaced by Denis's usual thin stack of paper, one inkwell, and a pen tray. Denis had been writing but when I entered, he laid the pen in the pen tray and moved the paper aside.
'Captain,' he greeted me. 'What have you discovered?'
'Nothing,' I said with some impatience. 'I came to find out whether Cooper has returned.'
'No.' The word was succinct but conveyed Denis's unhappiness. 'And I want you to make every effort you can to find him.'
'I thought you wanted me to discover who killed Ferguson,' I said. 'Or do you think the tasks are one and the same?'
'No.' Again the short sound, charged with meaning. 'I have sent Ferguson's body back to his family. I did not like that I had to send him home dead. The surgeon I employ confirmed what I told you a coroner would, that Ferguson had been beaten, and that one of the blows certainly killed him.' Denis twined his long fingers together. 'My fear, Lacey, is that Cooper has been murdered as well. And I do not like to contemplate this idea.'
'You are well and truly worried about him.'
A long pause followed. Denis looked at me, but not at me, then he turned to the man who stood guard inside the room. 'Leave us,' he said.
I stilled, surprised. James Denis never let himself be alone in a room with anyone, especially not with me. The pugilist looked surprised as well, but he stifled any question and left the room without a word.
Denis stood up. He walked to the window, his back to me, and looked out to the sunny day. The tall windmill stood silently, arms still.
'I am worried,' Denis said, his back still to me. 'You need to find him, Lacey. If something has happened to Cooper, I am not certain I could bear it.'
Chapter Eight
I had never in the year or so I'd known James Denis heard him speak with concern about another human being. He did not, even now-his voice held the stiffness of a man confessing something he did not want to, nor thought he'd ever have to, confess.
