Page 42 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
His boots crunched on the gravel of the courtyard as he made his way to the dirt path that wound through a thicket of trees before eventually reaching the folly.
When he reached the folly he retrieved the shovel but left the lantern as he could still see well enough at dusk to dig for the treasure. He donned the leather gloves.
There were three stone steps to the principal entrance of the folly. The middle step was taller and deeper than the other two. He remembered as a child being told to skip over that step as it was loose. In all these years no one had thought to add dirt or sand around the step to secure it.
He'd skipped over the step to retrieve the shovel, and now skipped over it again. Using the shovel, he pried dirt from under the left hand side of the foot long step crafted from limestone ashlar. After removing dirt from the right side of the step, he put aside the shovel, and bent down to pry the step from its place.
The limestone was not as heavy as he anticipated because the step had been hollowed out. Beneath where the step had rested lay a mound of dark Lancashire soil. Reclaiming the shovel, he cautiously dug into the dirt. He was rewarded with a loud clunk when the shovel hit something. Throwing the shovel aside, he used his hands to brush the dirt away from a battered silver urn laying sideways in the ground.
“I don’t believe it,” he whispered as he pried the urn from the soil.
The urn was nearly a foot long with a squat finial on its lid. It was heavy, and Preston placed it on the bottom step to remove the cover.
The lid was quite snug, a result of the lip of the urn being bashed in a bit, probably to ensure the cover remained on. When he was able to pry the lid loose, he was stunned to see the shimmer of gold coins.
His first thought was how excited Miss Davies would be that the treasure had been found.
“I’ll just take that, Your Grace.”
He looked up to see his former steward standing only a few feet away. The man had a knife in his hands and he looked rough, as if he’d been sleeping out of doors and hadn’t bathed in some time.
“Mr. Sparks!” He’d been so engrossed with digging for the urn that he’d neither heard nor noticed the man’s arrival. “What do you plan on doing with that knife?”
The man’s voice wavered as he replied, “Just back away from the urn, Your Grace. I need that gold. I’ll do anything I can to prevent my niece going to debtor’s prison.”
There was a sound from behind Mr. Sparks, and the steward turned quickly to see Mr. Bailey standing close behind him. As Mr. Sparks raised his knife to confront the other man, Preston lunged for the shovel, raised it, and hit Sparks on the back of the head.
The man fell to his knees with a groan, and then toppled forward.
“Well done, Your Grace,” Bailey said, blowing out a breath as he tied the former steward’s hands with a length of rope. “I think we might need that lantern now.”
* * * * *
It was well after nine o’clock when her father knocked on Marina’s door.
“Come!” She was still fully dressed as she was too nervous about what might be occurring at the folly to think about going to bed.
Her father entered the room and handed her a piece of vellum before taking a seat on the only chair in the room, a plush side chair. “This was just delivered.”
From her perch in the edge of her four poster bed, she took the note and read it silently.
Sir Joseph,
My nephew would like me to update you and Miss Davies as to the result of his activities this evening.
He did indeed locate the prize. Mr. Sparks has been seized without any parties involved sustaining grievous injury.
His Grace would like you to inform the maid Anne that her uncle, Mr. Sparks, is well and that the duke will speak to her in the morning. She need not fear reprisal or repercussion for her or her uncle’s past deeds. The whole of it is known, and His Grace understands.
Respectfully,
Lady Barton
Her first thought was to be thankful the duke was safe. She stared blankly at the letter in her hands. “The whole of it is known?”
“His Grace found the treasure,” her father replied with a shake of his head. “There really was a treasure.”
“And Mr. Sparks is related to Anne. I must speak with the girl. It is late, but she might yet be in the house.”
