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Chapter twelve

A watched pot never boils. I waited for Tobias for what seemed like an eternity.

The young doctor had come and gone. Evidently, the fever had been flying about the village and was expected to lift within a few days.

I hoped that would be the case for Cecily.

The trip to the village had been hard on her vulnerable body.

She needed more fruit and vegetables, he said. More red meat. Less porridge.

She had a fondness for porridge. I would try to build her appetite for better things. I was so relieved to learn that children weren’t dying of this sickness.

By the time Tobias arrived, Cecily was sitting up in bed, picking at a bowl of boiled potatoes and cabbage, swimming in chicken broth.

I was anxious to tell him my thoughts but couldn’t speak in front of Cecily. He seemed to be anxious as well. He’d tossed his jacket aside in the summer heat; his cravat had been loosened. He approached his sister. “The doctor says not to worry. You’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

Cecily lifted her small chin. “Then I can’t go back to baking with Mrs. Fredrickson?”

He smiled. “Indeed you may.” His brows lifted. “Tessa. A word?” He gestured to the hall. We exited the room and he shut the door behind him.

First things first. “Tobias. I am so very sorry. I understand if you feel the need to replace me with someone more competent.”

Shock registered on his face. “Why would I replace you?”

“Because I fell asleep and—I did not see to Cecily when she needed me. I—do you not wish to replace me?”

His lips parted in clear surprise. “No. Exhaustion is not a crime. My sister is a special case. While we must be vigilant, she must also make the right choices.”

“It could have ended badly.”

“Agreed. But it did not.”

“No…” It hadn’t. In fact, if she hadn’t wandered to the ruins, we wouldn’t have discovered the bodies, or come face to face with the killer.

“Does she remember much more?”

“She does not. I suppose you saw that the men had been shot?”

“Yes.”

“Cecily thought it thunder and lightning in her fevered state. I don’t believe she was able to see what really happened.”

“Thank God.”

“Yes.”

“The imposter still lives?”

“He does. The doctor is tending him now. The magistrate is with him.”

“Did you search the crawl spaces last night? With Mr. Ode?”

“We did. Tis an adventure I’d rather not enjoy again.

But all we found was an empty cellar with footprints that might have been there for ages for all I know.

” He shrugged. “Was built in an unusual space—the only entry we could find is through the wine cellar. If there is an exit, I don’t know of it.

Cummins knew his way around Burtins. I wonder his other secrets?

He is beyond explaining any of them now. ”

“It is tragic. But Tobias—if there was only one way in or out—”

His lips quirked. “He somehow made it out before I ventured within.”

I cringed. The way to the cellar was dark and steep. Positioned in a small corner off the scullery where the game hung, fowl and rabbit, waiting to be cooked. Not a pleasant place, to be sure. “There is a door off the scullery.”

“Just so. Convenient for the fellow. Only his escape ended a deadly one.”

“Has Audlington awoken?”

“He is yet unconscious. He might not recover.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry to put you through this.” He shifted on his feet. “You are certain, Tessa, that he isn’t your—”

“He is not. I am completely certain.” I caught warmth in his eyes. “Perchance a relative, but no. I am sure it isn’t him.”

“It’s an odd twist to our true to life tale.” He took one of his deep breaths and exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry you have to live out this true tale, Tobias.”

He folded his arms. “I shall sort it, I promise you.”

But what if he couldn’t? What if neither of us could go any farther with this tangle than we’d already gone?

What then? Could we be content with not knowing?

An unsolved mystery to add intrigue to the remainder of our days?

I had to speak. I’d already gone six years with unanswered questions.

One could come to peace with life as it came.

“Even if you do not, I trust that you still have a good life ahead of you.”

His response drove a truth home. “If I don’t, more lives may be lost. And not just mine. My nephew’s… or yours? I can’t let that happen. I won’t let it happen.”

I’d been so wrapped up in my own interior dramatics concerning my dead husband’s look-alike and my guilt that I completely forgot about the wee son who would inherit Mayfield one day.

Should he be found. Lord, there is much to pray over.

Help us. I believed He would. Our Creator could see straight to the marrow of our situation.

I believed He would show us the truth in time.

Oft times He would only show us one step at a time, other times more.

We had to trust Him no matter how hard the situation became.

Tobias’s hand came under my chin. “So you see, I cannot do without you.” His voice gentled. “Not for a moment.”

The impact of his words slammed into my heart where it shouldn’t go—but then his lips met mine.

His hand gently came to the small of my back and he kissed me as though he loved me.

Did he? An arm went about my waist as he pulled me closer, deepening his affection.

His lips ventured to my cheek and he whispered.

“I cannot do without you. I’ll never deserve you, Tessa.

” His lips found mine again. “But I will try.” He drew away.

“You have my heart. I will endeavor to have yours.”

Endeavor to have mine? He had it. Did he not know? He must. He reached across the small gap between us and wove his fingers into mine. My heart pounded and I couldn’t speak for the beauty, the warmth of the moment. This was everything my heart had been longing for.

And then, too much happened all at once.

The magistrate shouted. A messenger arrived. A scream rent the air, and the imposter breathed a tale that sent us spinning and Tobias on a journey that quite left Cecily and I alone. Alone with the burning reminder of a kiss and a promise that he would return.

Little did I know that I would not see him again for three long months.

Would that time stopped at the moment our affections flamed to life that I might tell him the full truth of my heart.

I could not do so in a letter. Could I? Could I spill the contents of my heart there?

If another pair of eyes read my words, would our love become endangered?

Ah. Mayhap this is why he did not expound upon much other than his general welfare in his missives.

I leaned my forehead against the window while the late summer rain dashed against it. Cecily was well. Quite well. And I? Lovesick. Quite. I blinked against the rain as though tears. I missed Tobias Chinworth. Desperately.

I thought back to our tender moment together in the hall and the events that interrupted our heart’s admissions.

A letter had arrived from Lord Sherborne via two of Joseph’s trained men whom I recognized.

They remained at Burtins, patrolling the grounds night and day regardless that we believed the miscreants who had utilized Burtins property for evil have fled.

Tobias read the letter Sherborne had sent.

“When you told me your husband’s name, I recognized it.

From where, I did not know. Father had been sending me on all manner of errands—for years.

But not six years—perhaps four at the most. No longer than that.

So there was not much of a chance that I’d met him.

I simply couldn’t recall where I’d heard his name.

I queried Lord Sherborne to look at the evidence and many affidavits concerning the Banbury case to see if Patrick Audlington’s name resurfaced.

It has.” He held up Sherborne’s long missive.

“A one Patrick Audlington that had been involved in some shipments. He was on the list of men who had authority to accept deliveries.” Tobias pursed his lips.

“These weren’t just any shipments. They were Banbury’s cache of weapons. ”

“My Patrick would never—”

“No. Not your Patrick. But this other fellow, whom the good doctor says has awoken. I must go to him.”

“Have you looked again at the list of names we found on Cummins?”

“I do recall this Audlington’s name being there—and how that startled you. To think we should see the man in the village soon after. It was Providential. I hope.”

“Yes, but listen. Mr. Mulls was ruminating on the thought that someone should want him dead—or at the very least—that someone should think him dead. That perhaps that was the point. Someone needed to think Mulls was no longer here—at Burtins.”

Tobias felt within his interior coat pocket. “I have it here.” He unfolded the paper. “I’ve not had a moment to look at it again since yesterday morning.” He scanned the names and I attempted to look over his arm. “It’s there. At the bottom. See? My name, too, is next to his.”

My blood ran cold.

“Failed attempts, both of them.” He touched my cheek and I warmed. “One failed because of you.” He read over the list again. “Cummins is not listed.”

“I wonder if he is the one who wrote it.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t think so. I think he is working for someone else. Cummins wasn’t intelligent enough run a clandestine operation.”

“The other list. The weapons. Do you think they are Audlington’s? The one that worked for Banbury?”

His brows rose. “Whose else could it be?”

“Tobias. Why would any of this have anything to do with Burtins?”

Tobias grimaced. “Because my dear Father hadn’t relinquished his ties with Banbury as he told us. He lied. Again.”

“Do you think the weapons are or,” I shrugged, “were hidden here?”