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She turned to find Sir Frederick kneeling near the window, his hands gently feeling along the stonework, his eyes closed.

“Goodness, Sir Frederick, you look as if you’re a spymaster conducting a deep search!” Amelia said.

“And I’ve found what I’m looking for, too,” he said, working at a stone which he pried loose before plunging his hand into the cavity and withdrawing a small wooden box.

“Lady Pendleton must think we are cleverer than we are! And we’ve fooled her!” said Miss Playford, hurrying over and then sitting on the bed as Sir Frederick dusted off the top of the book and prepared to open it.

Amelia had so nearly sat on his other side before realizing the impropriety. Yet there was something rather sweet in the way Miss Playford seemed to forget she was a young lady unleashed into society rather than a schoolroom miss who was eagerly helping her older brother solve a puzzle.

Older brother? Amelia cast them both a sidelong look as she took a seat at the dressing table. No, that was the first impression that had come to mind. Miss Playford had greeted with such eagerness the possibility that Sir Frederick might look upon her as a marital contender, earlier.

“A letter! The final clue!” Miss Playford cried, but Sir Frederick shook his head and his tone was grim. “It’s a letter, but I don’t think Lady Pendleton knows about it or it would certainly have been burned. Miss Playford, would you care to do the honors?”

Her face lit up when he handed her the letter, and she began to read:

“My dearest Pernilla,

As I sit here in the stables, having just finished tending to your father’s prized stallion, my thoughts, as always, turn to you.

The scent of hay and leather surrounds me, but in my mind, I am lost in the sweet perfume of your presence.

I know that to the world, I am nothing more than a lowly groom, unworthy of your affections.

Yet I dare to dream, my love, that the connection we share transcends these artificial boundaries of class and fortune.

Do you recall our conversation in the library last week?

How we lost ourselves discussing Alexander Pope’s beautiful poem?

Your insights were so keen, your wit so sharp.

In those moments, I forgot the dirt beneath my fingernails and imagined us as equals, two minds entwined in the joy of shared knowledge.

I often think of my days at Oxford, before my family’s misfortunes forced me to abandon my studies. How different my life might have been had fate not intervened.

Perhaps I would have been deemed a suitable match for you then.

But I cannot bring myself to regret the path that led me to your side, even if I must admire you from afar. Your father’s library has become my sanctuary. In the quiet hours of the night, I devour volume after volume, striving to better myself, to be worthy of the love I see in your eyes.

Plato, Shakespeare, Newton—their words fill my mind, but it is thoughts of you that fill my heart. I know our situation seems hopeless. A penniless scholar turned groom can offer you little in the way of comfort or status.

But I offer you my mind, my heart, and a love as deep as the oceans we’ve read about in your father’s atlases.

Forgive me, my darling, for daring to hope. For dreaming of a world where love and intellect are the true measure of a person’s worth.

Until then, I remain,

Forever yours in heart and mind,

William Greene”

Miss Playford gasped as she dropped the letter and looked at the other two.

“So, William wasn’t just the lowly groom Lady Pendleton said he was? He was educated?”

“But he had no money, so of course he was unworthy of her.” Amelia raised an eyebrow.

In fact, she felt a little combative and wondered what Sir Frederick’s response would be when she added, “The girl’s father had a far more illustrious match lined up—and little matter that she didn’t care for him. ”

Sir Frederick didn’t disappoint. “If I were the girl’s father, I’d certainly be concerned if a marital contender was a fortune hunter. Besides, it’s not as if she could be forced to wed against her will. No one can be coerced to that degree.”

Both Amelia and Miss Playford stared at him.

“You are a man,” Amelia said with real acid in her tone.

“You exist on a privileged plane. You cannot know the degree to which a young woman can be coerced to do as her elders—her closest male relative—wishes them to do.” She felt herself growing increasingly worked up, which was rather surprising, for Amelia was always mistress of her emotions—or so she thought.

But the pressure was building as to what she might do if she failed in the plan required to ensure Edward didn’t lose his bet.

“Why do you suppose I wish to retire quietly to the country? I have a small inheritance and thank the Lord it’s sufficient for me to live sparingly, but independently.

I am nearly five and twenty and can retire from revels like this.

Soon I will no longer be dependent upon the whims of the menfolk in my life. ”

He stared at her. “Your brother—?”

“Edward is the most devoted and loving of brothers. I could not wish for a better. But he is four years younger in years and a great deal younger in good sense. I am aware of his good-hearted attempts to do what is best for me but, in the eyes of the law, and with no means, yet, of my own, I am completely at the mercy of others. It is not a situation that I relish. So, if Miss Pernilla wished to marry a man who was educated but whose family fortunes had left him with no independence, I say she ought to have been able to choose for herself.”

“And clearly she was not able to,” Miss Playford said, taking up the argument with equal fire, “because she’s a ghost!”

The fierceness of her words, and perhaps the faint ludicrousness, stopped them all in their tracks.

Even she seemed taken aback by her vehemence in saying the word “ghost” that hung in the air.

Amelia seized the initiative before Sir Frederick had a chance to respond. She might be a young lady with an independent mind, but she now wanted to play peace-maker to prove she was capable of that, too.

So she smiled and said, “Is she really? This is Lady Pendleton’s Ghostly Gathering.

And Lady Pernilla is a convenient prop. Can we say with certainty that the letters we’ve found are real?

” She pointed to the letter in Miss Playford’s hand.

“And what of the letter in the volume of Pride and Prejudice in the library? Perhaps that was a clever prop, too?”

“But the painting!” Miss Playford objected. “That was a genuine painting.”

“Yes, but of Miss Pernilla?” Amelia asked. “I think we should set our minds to discovering the last clue and put an end to all this. It’s a game, nothing more.”

Sir Frederick, who’d remained quietly standing by the door, regarding them both with surprising gravity, now said, “A game it might be, but everything you’ve said has more depth than a game should give rise to.

Ladies, you’ve given me pause. I admit to feeling put in my place.

Not that what you’ve said changes my mind with regard to the man who would run off with my sister at the first opportunity.

And she, susceptible to his flattery, would need nothing more than a little persuasion. ”

“Yes, but your sister is only seventeen and the gentleman of whom you speak is clearly a man of dubious reputation,” said Amelia.

“I am of the same mind when you speak of your concerns, Sir Frederick. But I speak merely in generalities. If Lady Pernilla did indeed exist, and if the letters we’ve read are real, then she is in the very situation where I lament her inability to exercise the choice to follow her heart.

Now.” Amelia cleared her throat. “Let us read again the final clue. We were so keen to win this treasure hunt but we’ve allowed ourselves to be diverted by philosophical discussions. ”

Quietly, Miss Playford took the paper Sir Frederick handed her and read:

“A room untouched by time’s swift flight,

Where a lady’s ghost still walks at night.

Seek the mirror that reflects no face,

Behind its glass, find the final place.”

“We should have realized what that meant,” Amelia said, smiling, as she went to the dressing table and picked up the hand-held looking glass, cracked and aged.

As she began to prise the glass from its backing, Sir Frederick gently took it from her.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said, “when I have the right tools here.” Using the paper knife lying on the dressing table, they all gasped at what was revealed.

In the backing was a small cavity, and in this cavity were two gold rings. With a frown, Sir Frederick raised them to the light of his lantern, squinting as he took in the tiny engraved initials.

“What is it?” asked Miss P. “Are they Lady Pernilla’s and William’s rings? Surely this can’t be real? Lady Pernilla was made to marry someone else.”

“I think we really can’t be too sure of Lady Pernilla’s real story,” Amelia said, stepping closer, her heart beating a little more rapidly as she directed an enquiring look at Sir Frederick. “Can you read an inscription?”

He nodded. “P and W. That’s what it says. It’s very clear.” He hesitated, squinting at the box, then pulling back a small square of paper folded into the bottom.

With a short laugh, he read:

“Your attempts were sound,

For the treasure is found!”

The young ladies gasped. “So, is this the treasure? But these rings are heirlooms. Surely they belong to the family,” said Amelia. “What do you suppose Lady Pendleton is up to with this strange treasure hunt? Or is it all make-believe?”

Sir Frederick’s frown had given way to a mask of skepticism. “I think that is exactly what it is. She’s made us all feel that her tragic relative is truly a ghost, and she’s gone to great lengths to fabricate everything.”

Miss Playford sat down heavily on the counterpane, coughing once more before she said, “Oh, she’s not real? I am so disappointed.” She sighed. “Well, we’ve found the treasure. And it is valuable, is it not?”

Sir Frederick shook his head. “Two gold rings? I think not. Still, it was a fine game.”