Jason’s green eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. “It probably hasn’t been up in a hundred years. What would be the point? There’s naught in this old place of interest to anyone.”
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
“There she goes, leaping to conclusions again.” Ford pushed the door open and stepped inside the plain, square entry. “Egad, what is that on the floor?”
“What?” Kendra took a step back.
“Ouch!” Jason wrenched his foot from under hers. “Why do you insist on wearing those accursed high heels?” He shouldered his way past the twins. “Something spilled, is all.”
Leaning down to touch one of the dark splotches, he rubbed the substance between his fingers, then sniffed and turned back to them slowly.
“It’s blood.”
“Blood?” Kendra squeaked.
“Don’t get overwrought.” Jason grinned. “I’d wager it’s just one of Colin’s practical jokes.”
Kendra took another step back. “Real blood a joke?”
Ford put a hand on his twin sister’s shoulder. “Perhaps Benchley butchered something outside and failed to notice it dripping when he brought it through here. Look, the drops trail under the door to the great hall, toward the kitchen. I wonder what it is? I’m hoping for suckling pig.”
The great hall’s door was ajar as well. Jason led the way into the gutted, roofless chamber, its pitted stone floor still scattered with rusted cannonballs from Cromwell’s last siege.
“How couldn’t he have noticed it dripping?” Kendra’s voice was a whisper, her gaze riveted to the bloody trail. “It was pumping out here, from the looks of it.” She followed her brothers, stepping carefully. “A suckling pig!” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “More like a cow, I’ll warrant you. I’ve never seen so much—”
“The latch…” At the far end of the hall, Jason had reached for the door, then jerked back his hand. “It’s covered in blood as well.”
Kendra bit her lip. “Maybe we ought to wait for Colin.”
“Don’t be a goose.” Jason kicked at the door with one booted foot, and it gave, swinging open with a prolonged creak.
They traversed the short corridor, following meandering bloody footprints. “I don’t like this,” Kendra muttered, gingerly picking her way past the dark red marks.
They paused at the entrance to the kitchen. “Benchley?” Ford ran a shaky hand through his wavy brown hair. “Benchley, are you here, man?”
“It appears not,” Jason said unnecessarily.
Kendra pointed to one of the two sunken wells. “Oh, my heavens.”
Ford glared at her. “What now?”
“Do you not hear the dripping?”
“Dripping?” Jason started toward the well, then suddenly flung out an arm. “Stay back!”
“What?” Kendra breathed. “What is it?”
“This is no joke. Ford, fetch Colin now!”
Despite Jason’s warning, Kendra rushed forward, then let out an earsplitting scream before whirling to muffle her face against his chest.
“He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,” she panted. “Benchley’s dead. Oh, my heavens, Benchley’s dead!”
Instead of fetching Colin, a whimpering Ford flung his arms around them both. “I can’t look! Oh, please, let’s get out of here!”
Squished between her brothers, Kendra turned her head and cracked an eye open, just to make sure. Bent at the waist over the crossbar that spanned the well, Colin’s manservant dangled, his clothes streaked with red. More blood dripped from the sopping mass of his prematurely gray hair, echoing as it plopped into the water far below.
She moaned and promptly reburied her face.
Until, with an unnerving suddenness, mad laughter burst out behind them.
FIVE
COLIN’S SIBLINGS stared, dumbstruck, as he strode in and leaned over the well.
A plaintive voice resonated from the depths. “My back is killing me. Help me out of here, I beg you.”
Kendra blinked. The color rushed back to her cheeks. “You lout! That was mean.”
“But a good one,” Jason admitted with a sheepish chuckle. “You did yourself proud, Colin.”
“A fiendish mess, but worth it,” Colin agreed cheerfully. He reached down to hoist Benchley up. “The looks on your faces…”
“And the screams!” The manservant’s shirt was plastered to his short, wiry form. “Oh, get me out of here! Took everything I had not to laugh and give myself away.” Laughing now, he braced his hands on his hips and leaned back, stretching his spine. “Mind you, it’ll be hours of scrubbing to get up all that blood.”
Colin waved that away. “I’ll help, of course.”
“Well I won’t!” Ford muttered, his face distinctly red.
“I’ll be going to clean off now,” Benchley announced, stepping gingerly over a puddle on his way out of the kitchen.
“Hurry back!” Jason called. “We’re fair starving!”
The siblings looked round at each other—and burst into peals of laughter. Even Ford joined in, after a moment.
Jason leaned against the large, scrubbed wooden worktable, his long black hair falling forward to hide his face. “I cannot credit that I fell for it,” he mused. “I even said at first…” He lifted his head and gave Colin a rueful smile. “Your betrothed will be sorry she missed this one.”
“Bosh!” Kendra rolled her eyes. “She would say it was a childish waste of time.”
“It was a childish waste of time.” Colin grinned. “But what on earth is wrong with that?
Ford sniffed at a covered platter. “Suckling pig,” he mumbled, looking pleased as he made his way over to one of the basins and reached for a bronze tap.
Ignoring her twin, Kendra turned to Colin. “Speaking of Lady Priscilla Snobs, have you two set the date?”
“Lady Priscilla Hobbs and I have yet to decide.” Colin scanned the shelves, looking for something he could use to clean up. “She won’t move to Greystone in its present condition.”
“Gravity,” Ford declared, opening the tap, then shutting it again. With obvious glee, he repeated the motion. “Definitely gravity.”
Kendra frowned. “She could live at Cainewood with us.”
“Not likely. This family is a bit too, uh, high-spirited for Priscilla.” He dropped a wad of rags on the biggest puddle of pig blood, poking at it
