Page 21 of Most Ardently (Return to Culloden Moor #5)
21
THE BEST SORT OF TREASURE
* * *
A carriage stood in the drive, its matched bay horses still breathing heavily from their journey. Violet remained frozen in the doorway, unable to make sense of this unexpected arrival.
The carriage door opened, and to her astonishment, Louis stepped down. His formal traveling clothes were slightly rumpled, but his face wore an expression of undisguised delight. Gone was the stiff propriety of their farewell at Brigadunn, replaced by an almost boyish enthusiasm.
He turned back to the carriage, extending his hand to assist another passenger—a slender young woman in a simple traveling dress. As she descended and turned toward the house, Violet felt her heart lurch within her chest.
“Iris,” she whispered, scarcely believing her eyes.
Her sister looked up, her face pale but resolute. When their eyes met, Iris's composure broke. She gathered her skirts and rushed up the steps, flinging herself into Violet's arms.
“Our home has never looked more beautiful,” Iris declared, her voice thick with emotion.
Violet held her tightly, a hundred questions clamoring for voice. She looked over Iris's shoulder at Louis, who remained at the foot of the steps, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and uncertainty.
The explanation came quickly. With Rochester’s assistance, Louis had dispatched a messenger after he’d learned of Iris’ plight. Rochester had connections throughout the Highlands and had sent a man to secure Iris's release. She’d arrived at Brigadunn shortly after Violet had gone, so he brought Iris directly home.
This was why he had seemed so cheerful at their parting—he had already set Iris's rescue in motion from the moment he learned of her plight.
“You must go after Mother,” Violet said suddenly. “She has left for Perth to sell the key for funds to rescue Iris—funds we no longer need.”
Louis nodded, his uncertainty replaced by determination. “Of course. I shall find her.”
As his carriage departed once more, Violet led her sister inside, still scarcely able to believe she was truly there, safe and whole.
They were children again as Violet related the entire adventure—her disguise as a servant, Louis's initial suspicions, their discovery of the key and puzzle box, and the mysterious fairy script on the bridge.
“And in the end, it all came to nothing,” she concluded. “The final clue, 'Above the brown bridge,' led us nowhere.”
In a fit of sisterly exuberance, they moved to the great hall, spinning and dancing as they had done as girls. Breathless with laughter, they collapsed onto the stone floor, and caught their breathe while gazing up at the vaulted ceiling with its massive wooden beams.
“I had forgotten how beautiful it is,” Iris sighed.
“Beautiful?” Violet echoed, surprised. “They are merely old wooden beams, covered in years of soot.”
“That is precisely why they are beautiful,” Iris countered. “It was our soot.”
Violet studied the beams more closely, seeing beyond the darkened surface to the structure itself. The parallel timbers, crossed in places by smaller supports, formed a pattern remarkably like...
“A bridge,” she whispered, sitting up abruptly. “Iris, do you see it? The beams form a bridge.”
Iris sat up beside her, tilting her head to follow Violet's gaze. “You are right.”
“Too bad it is not brown,” Violet said, the words from the inscription clear in her mind.
Iris gave her a puzzled look. “But it would have been, originally. All oak is brown. It is only years of smoke from the hearth that has darkened it to near black.”
Violet stared at her sister, then back at the beams. “Above the brown bridge,” she whispered. “Not the stone bridge at all, but the wooden bridge of our rafters! A brown bridge!”
“What are you saying, Violet?”
“The treasure—if it exists at all—is not at Brigadunn. It is here, in our own home, above those beams!” She jumped to her feet. “We will have to wait for Louis to return with Mother. He will help us get up there. He’s clever.”
* * *
Violet and Iris sat on the front steps of Durrafair, watching the empty lane with anxious anticipation. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown garden as they waited for their mother's return with Louis.
“Do you truly believe there might be treasure hidden in our rafters?” Iris asked, her practical nature asserting itself now that the initial excitement had faded.
“I do,” Violet replied firmly. “Every clue has led us here. Father spent years searching the stone bridge and Brigadunn, never suspecting the answer lay in his own home.”
The sound of approaching wheels ended their vigil. Louis's carriage appeared around the bend, dust rising in its wake as it traveled the final stretch to Durrafair.
Louis helped Mother descend, her face alight with joy at the sight of her daughters waiting. With the reunion complete, Violet wasted no time.
“I believe I have found it. The treasure!” she declared, leading them into the great hall to explain her theory about the rafters.
“But how shall we examine the beams?” her mother asked.
Louis studied the ancient timbers. “We can fashion a system of ropes and pulleys using materials from your stable. With four of us working together, we should manage it safely.”
They gathered what they needed - sturdy rope from the tack room, a wooden chair, leather straps from old harnesses. Louis anchored the pulley and secured the chair with rope, Violet reached for the harness.
“I will keep you safe,” he promised, then kissed her. “For luck.”
With Louis and her mother positioned at the ropes and Iris guiding from below, Violet was slowly raised toward the ceiling. The great hall shrank beneath her as she ascended. At the top, above the brown bridge, her fingers searching the massive beams and crossbeams.
Near the junction, her hand found it—a small, square panel with a keyhole. The ornate key fit perfectly. With a soft click, the panel swung open.
Inside lay a small wooden cask bound with metal bands. Too heavy to manage alone, Violet secured with a second harness, and with Louis’ strength, they got it out and lowered it to the ground. Then they lowered Violet.
Back on solid footing, they gathered around their find. The key also unlocked the cask, and the lid lifted with the squeak of aged hinges.
Gold and silver coins gleamed in the fading light—not a king's ransom, but substantial nonetheless. For several minutes, they simply stared at the treasure, absorbing the reality of its existence after so many years of searching.
“What will you do with it?” Louis asked.
“Secure our futures,” Violet answered without hesitation. “Repair Durrafair's worst ailments.”
As her mother and sister excitedly sorted through the contents, Louis touched Violet's elbow lightly and drew her aside.
“Might we speak privately?”
She nodded, following him to the far corner of the hall where the last rays of sunlight spilled through the high windows, illuminating motes of ancient dust from the beams overhead.
Louis stood silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on some middle distance as if gathering his thoughts. When he finally turned to her, the intensity in his eyes made her breath catch.
“I have a confession,” he began, his voice steady yet somehow vulnerable. “From the moment I discovered you were not a servant but the daughter of a gentleman, I have been torn between what you need and what my heart desires.”
Violet felt a warmth spreading through her chest, but remained silent, allowing him to continue.
“I came to Brigadunn intending to establish myself before considering marriage. A new baron with modest means must be practical, after all.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Instead, I found myself captivated by a woman disguised as a servant, searching for treasure with more determination than anyone I have ever known.”
“I was desperate,” Violet said softly. “For Iris.”
“No,” Louis contradicted her gently. “Desperation leads to rashness, to poor judgment. What you showed was courage, loyalty, and remarkable intelligence. Qualities far more valuable than any title or fortune.”
He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of amber in his gray eyes. “I no longer wish to be practical, Violet. I wish to be honest.”
“And what truth would you tell?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“That you have become essential to me.” He took her hands in his, his touch warm and steady. “That the thought of returning to my life without you in it seems... impossible now.”
Violet looked down at their joined hands, her throat suddenly tight with emotion.
“I had not intended this,” Louis continued, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “But these past days have shown me that some treasures, once found, should not be set aside for the sake of convention. And now that you have what you needed…”
He sank to one knee before her, still holding her hands, his eyes never leaving hers. Violet felt the world narrow to this single moment, this heartbeat and the next.
“Violet Cottsweather, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Not for treasure or title or any practical consideration, but because I believe what we might build together would be more precious than all of these.”
Tears welled in Violet's eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked them away, unwilling to miss a single detail of his face.
“Yes,” she whispered, then more firmly, “Yes, Louis.”
His smile transformed his entire countenance, lighting his eyes and softening the planes of his face. He rose, still holding her hands, his gaze never leaving hers.
“I had hoped,” he admitted, his voice unsteady for the first time. “Stanley arranged for the special license already, in case we wished to use it.”
“You were that certain?” Violet asked, astonished.
“Apparently, he was. I was happily surprised.”
Something in his expression—the vulnerability beneath his composure—moved Violet deeply. She stepped forward and placed her hand lightly against his cheek.
Louis stilled. For a heartbeat, they stood frozen in shared recognition. Then, with deliberate slowness, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, yet Violet felt it in every part of her being. When he drew back, she saw her own wonder reflected in his eyes.
“I believe,” he said softly, “we have just discovered the true treasure.”
Across the room, Mother cleared her throat discreetly, breaking the spell. Violet turned to find her mother and sister watching with identical expressions.
“I believe congratulations are in order,” Mother said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “Though I must say, Lord Astley, your timing is impeccable.”
“Indeed,” Iris agreed, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “One treasure found, and another secured, all in a single afternoon.”