Page 47 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)

“W here’s your maid?” Miss Hale’s pretentious tone returned with a vengeance.

“I granted her leave for the day.” Meredith strode across her bedchamber and splashed her face with the cold water in the basin and shivered. She took up a scrap of linen and patted her face dry.

“What the devil are you wearing?”

Meredith glanced down at the serviceable gray dress Lucius had appropriated for her.

The lovely, out-of-date green-and-white striped silk lay across the bed alongside the apron she’d worn to cover the gown.

The apron was smudged with dirt and the pockets still bulged with the treasures she’d yet to unwrap, quickening her pulse with anticipation.

“You aren’t with child, are you?”

Surprised she’d nearly forgotten her presence, Meredith’s gaze shot to Miss Hale.

Miss Hale’s question had been delivered more as a sullen statement of disappointment.

What Meredith saw shocked her. Hurt, despair, and a flicker of envy, all poorly masked behind Miss Hale’s what Meredith was starting to recognize as an armor as dense as Perlsea Keep’s stone facade.

Meredith’s breath hitched, the weight of the unspoken tension settling between them.

“No,” she said gently. “I understand my father announced the fabrication at the late Lord Pender’s memorial gathering.

” Her own confidence faltered and her voice trembled at the edges.

“That’s what sent my husband flying to my side, I suppose. And now you—”

Miss Hale averted her eyes, twisting a delicate handkerchief in her hands she’d tugged from her sleeve. “Yes,” she murmured, almost to herself. “It’s why he’s here. But…”

Meredith’s chest tightened. “But?”

Miss Hale’s gaze snapped back to hers, her voice sad, resigned. “But he suddenly seems… interested. In you. It’s because you are a duke’s daughter.”

“I have my doubts on that score.” A wryness accompanied the words. “If it makes you feel any better, it didn’t start out that way,” Meredith said, thinking back to that first night. “He arrived with an annulment agreement.”

Miss Hale’s face lit up with a flash of hope that quickly dimmed.

Meredith felt so badly for Miss Hale, she would gladly have turned her husband over to the poor woman if Meredith hadn’t fallen so deeply in love— love? She swallowed and grew a little lightheaded.

“But?” Miss Hale’s soft voice pierced the sudden jumble of her mind.

Meredith reached over and touched her hand. “But no longer. I’m sorry, Miss Hale. Our marriage has since been consummated. He… belongs here. With me.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “I-I can see that.”

“What will you do now?” Meredith asked her, curiosity nipping.

“Return home, I suppose. Become the doting aunt to my sister’s children.”

“Sister?” Meredith frowned, thinking back to Abra’s come-out ball. “I don’t recall you having siblings.”

“I had an older sister who died when at sixteen. But recently it’s come to light that my father…

” She hauled in a deep breath and let it out.

“My father had another child. Turns out her mother married a horrid man to keep my sister from being born out of wedlock. She was raised…” Her face turned an unbecoming shade of red that clashed with her goldish frock of the latest French plates.

The back of Meredith’s neck prickled. “Raised where?” she asked lightly.

Miss Hale’s nose wrinkled. “On Berwick Street.”

Meredith’s mouth dropped opened, the muscles so slack she couldn’t seem to snap it shut. “Geneva?” That’s who Docia Hale reminded her of. It was all so clear now. Everything fell into place. Her friend’s upbringing. Her speech.

“Yes, Geneva Wimbley. Now, Geneva Oshea. She married Lucius’s younger brother, Noah. I suppose you know him.”

The shocking news brought forth a bark of laughter that mutated into something more hysterical that brought tears to Meredith’s eyes. “Er, yes. I’m familiar with Mr. Noah Oshea. I send the bills to him for the Keep’s renovation.”

“Geneva is quite forthright,” Miss Hale said defensively, “in an endearing sort of way.”

Meredith wiped the tears from her eyes. “Please, do forgive me, Miss Hale. I’m not laughing at you or Geneva. She happens to be one of my dearest friends. We attended school together, you know. Her mother sent her to Miss Greensley’s School of Comportment for Young Ladies of Quality.”

In an instant, Miss Hale’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh.” Then she smiled. A genuine smile that was certainly reminiscent of Geneva’s. “You may as well call me Docia.” She stood and moved about Meredith’s chamber, running her finger along some of the furniture.

“Thank you, Docia. You are welcome at Perlsea Keep for as long as you like. Frankly, we could use the help diverting my father.”

She spun around, her eyes narrowed. “Diverting him from what?”

“There’s something afoot. We aren’t quite sure what nefarious deeds he is up to. But,” she finished grimly, “it isn’t good.”

“Oh, of course.” Docia continued her perusal, reaching the vanity, picking up and sniffing bottles of perfume and pots of cream. She moved to the bed and fingered the apron. “What do you know of your Mr. Ashcroft?” Her attempt at nonchalance fell way short.

Meredith leaned against the table, her hands planted at her sides and watched her, touched with bemusement and still astonished that this woman was her friend’s half-sister.

“He was a traveling scholar when I hired him,” she said.

“He now acts as my—our—steward. He teaches at the village school we created in Penhalwick.”

Again, Docia’s shoulders fell, this time in defeat. “How wasteful,” she said on an expelled breath.

“Wasteful in what matter?” Meredith asked her.

“Attractive—but for that awful beard. Untitled.” She picked up the apron, sagging heavily with the items still in the pockets. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” Meredith hurried over and took possession of the garment. “I’d nearly forgotten.” She spread it out on the bed and pulled each item from its location. “I found a hidden compartment in the wine cellar.” She glanced up at this unlikely companion, grinning.

“How on earth did that come about?” The pretentiousness seemed to have completely dissipated.

“I found an old journal that belonged to the Marquess of Aylesbury. Apparently, Lucius’s mother lived here as a child. Aylesbury was her father or grandfather. I’ve forgotten which. In any event, reading it was quite enlightening.”

“Sounds like something one might read in a horrid novel.”

“Abra, Geneva, Hannah, and I found such novels all fun when we were younger,” she said, a delicious shiver going down her spine. “Aylesbury had some intriguing passages.” She selected the papers she’d seen earlier.

Docia picked up a much smaller item, unwrapping it to reveal a small vial. “What on earth?” She started to uncork it but Meredith stopped her.

“Wait,” she said quickly. “The things I read in the journal spoke of doing someone in. That could be poison.”

“Oh, dear.” Docia set it aside and picked up another token and unwrapped it. “A key.” She held out an ornate key of heavy crafted, now tarnished, silver with unusual markings that resembled old family crests. The letter “A” was distinct and prominently engraved in the handle.

“This proves the items belonged to Lucius’s grandfather.” Her own voice was hardly above a whisper. “As I said, the castle came to the Pender estates through his mother.”

“It’s lovely,” Docia whispered in the same barely audible tone. “What do you suppose it opens?”

Meredith shook her head. “Perhaps a safe or drawer in the hidden library.”

Docia’s eyes gleamed. “Hidden library?”

“Yes, but we are forbidden to enter. It’s too dangerous. What else have we?”

The next token Docia selected and unwrapped was a signet ring. “The tarnished silver matches that of the key. Though it bears an emblem of an owl with a dagger—” It was a crest Meredith didn’t recognize. “Do you think this was Aylesbury’s?”

She took the ring from Docia, lifted and studied it. “I don’t know. The face of Papa’s bears our family crest and is gold.”

“Look! On the inside. There’s a ‘P’…” Her voice trailed and she slowly met Meredith’s eyes, her dark-blue eyes so like Geneva’s were huge in her heart-shaped face.

“Pender?” Meredith’s voice cracked, knowing the possibility was real.

Docia dropped the ring on the bed and took Meredith by the arms. “Dear heavens. You are white as an ocean’s foam.” She spun her quickly and pushed Meredith to sitting on the edge of the bed before her legs gave out beneath her, her stomach threatening to recoil.

“How could it not be? One… one of the passages Aylesbury wrote was how he had to include his daughter’s husband into his scheme because he couldn’t very well tell his daughter and wife.”

“What scheme?”

“That’s what we are trying to learn.” A glass of water was placed in her hand.

“Drink.”

Meredith gulped the contents. “It must belong to one of the families involved with the marquess’s scheme.

” She retrieved the ring. “Its weight and the intricate detailing suggest it a prized possession of someone influential.” She looked up at Docia, this unlikely and unexpected friend.

“Lord Pender married Aylesbury’s wife. We have to talk to Lucius. ”

*

Dressed for dinner—to alleviate speculation of course—Lucius left Ashcroft in his bedchamber and stole down a different back stairwell, one the servants rarely used.

The faint tap of his boots echoed in the stillness as he emerged in a hall that brought him past the old study and the renovated library.

The scent of varnished oak lingered, mingling with the faint musk of the stone walls. He paused, surveying the vestibule ahead, where the gas lights in the chandelier above reflected off the polished wood floors.

This section of the Keep was a far cry from his memories as a small child.

Gone were the faded tapestries and peeling paint.

In their place stood walls painted in soft cream with delicate moldings and sconces that cast a warm glow over the space.

It was tasteful, efficient, and all Meredith’s touch.

Still, for all its improvements, the Keep remained an irritating maze. Especially at urgent moments like this one.

He reached the vestibule that was, thankfully, devoid of occupants. Then he realized… he had no idea where Verity stashed greatcoats, pelisses, bonnets, and such . Turning, he squinted at the paneling to his right. “Where in blazes is the cloakroom?” he muttered.

His gaze fell upon a section of paneling along the entryway wall. It seemed to ripple subtly in the gaslight, the grain of the oak slightly off kilter from the rest. He frowned and stepped closer, running his fingers along one edge.

“Ah.” A quiet click and the panel gave way, revealing the hidden door set almost seamlessly in the wall. “Clever.” More of his wife’s ingenuity, he’d wager.

A disguised door. Perfect for appearances and thoroughly maddening for practicality.

He gave a rueful shake of his head and with a tug, the door creaked open, revealing a modest cloakroom lined with hooks, shelves, and the faintly musty smell of wool and damp leather.

His coat was there, slung haphazardly over a hook as though mocking him for his struggle.

He released a relieved breath, straightened his coat on the peg then checked the pocket—

Gone . The book from Thornfield’s office safe was… gone. Thankfully, however, the missive and the ledger papers were still there. He moved into the light and opened the letter from Noah. It was addressed to Meredith. He read through it quickly.

Stonemare Castle, Northumberland

5 April 1847

To the Right Honourable Meredith, Countess of Pender

Perlsea Keep, Cornwall

My dear sister-in-law,

I trust this letter finds you in good health and spirits, though I imagine the news I bring may come as something of a surprise.

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you of mine and Lucius’s father’s passing on 29 March.

The Earl of Pender has left us, his burdens and duties now falling to Lucius, of course, who has inherited both the title and the responsibilities that accompany it.

As the wife of the new earl, your status has accordingly risen from Viscountess of Perlsea to Countess of Pender.

While I regret that such news must be delivered under such somber circumstances, I hope you will take solace in the opportunities this transition may bring to influence and assist those under your care at Perlsea.

I must also extend my personal thanks for the efforts I hear you have undertaken to manage the estate in Cornwall. It is no small task to restore and maintain such a property, and your diligence speaks volumes of your character.

My brother has been deeply preoccupied with the affairs left in Father’s wake, but I trust he will join you in Cornwall soon to discuss the path forward. Until then, if there is any assistance I might offer, you need only write.

Please convey my regards to those at Perlsea Keep and know that you have my heartfelt condolences in this time of change and reflection.

Yours faithfully,

Noah Oshea

So… Meredith had never received the notice regarding Father’s demise. What need had Thornfield to keep the information from her? He glanced back to the hidden door. And, who had stolen the journal from Lucius’s greatcoat? Nothing made the slightest bit of sense.

His whole world wavered before him. Lucius raced up the grand stairs by two, stormed his bedchamber and found it— empty.

He bent over with one hand on his knee to catch his breath and gather his bearings.

Ashcroft was in on it. Why else would the man have disappeared?

He knew everything, could have Lucius transported.

Just the bit he’d shared with Ashcroft could be construed as Lucius having prior knowledge of those missing stewards.

And, perhaps most important of all? Why hide his identity from Meredith the last three years?

Goddamn. The bastard had him by his nether regions.