Page 102 of The Nature of a Lady
“And you don’t find it off-putting? Or ridiculous?”
“Actually, no. I find it ... encouraging. And something to emulate.”
She was rewarded with Oliver shooting her a smile.
“There’s something here!” Beth’s voice came more quietly than Libby would have expected, almost reverently.
“Probably a stone.” Bram shook the bag of chocolates and peered inside. He took a full minute, sometimes, picking the perfect one. Though what made one perfect in that moment, she couldn’t say, since he’d end up devouring them all within an hour, each selected with the same ridiculous care.
“Wood, actually.”
Sheridan’s clarification didn’t stir Bram from his study. “An old timber, then. Careful you don’t bring some ancient foundation caving in around you, prodding at its support as you probably are.”
“It isn’t a timber. The size of the planks is all wrong,” Beth said.
Libby moved closer, her curiosity outweighing any Bram-inspired doubt that they could have possibly found something so quickly.
They’d dug down only about a foot, and the hole was only a few inches wide. Given how they crowded the hole, she couldn’t see much past them, but they were working rather efficiently now—Sheridanloosening the sod with a practiced shovel, picking it up like a square of green carpet, Beth going in underneath and moving the dirt into a neat pile. Soon, enough was visible that Libby could see what Beth had meant about the plank size. This was definitely no ancient timber—it was slender planking, thin, with the wood rotted by soil and moisture enough that the shovels could probably crack it away.
“Look.” Beth breathed the word with awe and rocked back onto her knees so they could peer over her shoulder.
It looked like a crate. One withMucknellbranded across the top.
Libby gripped Oliver’s arm. “It’s actually there. Right there.”
Bram, chocolate now in his mouth, moved to her other side. “Probably filled with nails. Lead shot. Moldy clothing—”
“Do shut up, Telly.” Sheridan scraped more dirt away. “Could break though. If we try to pull it out, I mean. We’d have to excavate all around it. Or...” He grinned over at Beth. “Ladies first?”
She shoved the tip of the shovel into the dirt-packed crack between two planks in reply. A splintering sound filled the air, a creak as she levered it. A snap that made Libby wince. What would they do if itwerejust moisture-eaten clothing or a supply of nails that probably would have been much appreciated at the time but was worthless now? Perhaps, from an archaeological perspective, it would still be interesting.
But she had a feeling Lorne and Scofield weren’t overmuch interested in that sort of archaeology. And she couldn’t be sure the unknown American was either.
When Beth shot to her feet a minute later, though, it wasn’t moldy silk or iron in her hands. It was ... a fork?
Beth frowned and laughed both when she handed one to each of them. “Silver.”
“Ware,” Sheridan added. “Brilliant. And it’s engraved.”
It was indeed. Which wasn’t unusual. All the silver at home had an ornateTupon each and every handle. But this wasn’t just the usual single letter, nor even a full monogram. A name was etched into the handle, elegant and flourished.
Elizabeth.
She looked up at Beth. Beth looked at her. And they both grinned.
Birds suddenly took wing on the opposite side of the castle, crying out as they flew up into the mist. Libby’s pulse quickened. “Someone’s here.” And she’d abandoned her post at the castle’s entrance. Was it Mabena catching them up? One could hope.
But she couldn’t quite believe it. “Stay down, behind that wall. I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”
She made no objection when Oliver and Bram came with her though. And was doubly glad of their presence when they rounded the second corner and came face to face with Lady Emily, her arm in the iron-looking grip of a man who had to be her brother. They shared the same shade of hair, of eye, of skin. But where Emily looked miserable and frightened, Nigel Scofield met them with a grin that looked absolutely wicked.
“Oh good,” he said. “The Tremaynes. And you’ve finally brought me my silver.”
Oliver kept a silent litany of prayers going upward with every step, and he could tell from the occasional movement of Libby’s lips that she was doing the same. He oughtn’t to have had attention enough to be glad over that, given the circumstances. But he was. Even if things went terribly in the next hour, at least he knew that she’d made peace with her Maker, with the Lover of her soul. The One who called her by name and had led her here, right here and now, to find Him more fully.
Scofield, at least, wasn’t brandishing a weapon at them. He seemed to think when he informed them that his associate had Mabena and Casek held nearby that they’d follow along without a peep.
He was right, of course.
