having written the letter to Royce that had brought the
two men to Jersey.
“I’ve a good mind to send you back to your
mother, perhaps in Lord Cadwallon’s charge,” Lord Bertrand
threatened, scowling at her. “After a few days with Irmina, you
will learn to appreciate our kindness.”
“I cannot leave until I know where Aglise
is,” Elaine protested, afraid if she did leave the island, she
would never solve the mystery of her sister’s disappearance. For
reasons she dared not explain out loud, she was certain the truth
about Aglise lay on Jersey.
Upon hearing her words, Lord Bertrand’s scowl
deepened, though he said no more on the subject.
Through all of the trivial domestic
irritations of the afternoon that followed, Elaine pondered the
question she could not dismiss from her mind. Should she confess to
Desmond and Cadwallon what little she knew about the most intimate
details of her sister’s recent life? Was it time to destroy
Aglise’s good name in hope the information, once revealed, would
aid in finding her?
Aglise had not confided in Elaine; she had
chosen to keep silent and she had proven to be amazingly discreet.
But Elaine, knowing and loving her sister so well, had finally
discovered the truth.
Castles and manor houses, crowded and
enclosed upon themselves as they were, especially in isolated
locations such as Jersey, were not places where secrets could
easily be kept for long. Elaine had pieced together snatches of
accidentally overheard conversations, the impression given by
glances exchanged when seemingly no one else was looking, the blush
that often lay on Aglise’s soft cheeks, and she was certain she had
reached the correct conclusions. Moreover, since Elaine had
discovered what Aglise was involved in, it was likely other people
had made the same discovery.
When Desmond and Cadwallon appeared in the
great hall that evening Elaine scarcely knew whether to be glad to
see them or worried that they, too, would soon uncover facts
damaging to Aglise. The question of how much to reveal to them
gnawed at her. She took her seat beside Desmond at the high table
wishing she dared lay her head on his chest and pour out all her
fears.
Then she reminded herself that beautiful
Aglise might have done the same thing and immediately received the
comfort and understanding tenderness she sought. Elaine, who
thought of herself as the plain, quiet, uninteresting sister, knew
better than to expect tenderness from any man.
Desmond noted Elaine’s pale face and
carefully contained manner and wondered what had caused it, and why
she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Before he could pursue the
matter his host intervened, speaking with a heartiness that Desmond
found false.
“Well, good sirs, have you finished your
investigation?” Lord Bertrand asked.
“Not yet,” Desmond answered, doing his best
to sound noncommittal.
“Since Jersey is so small, I am surprised it
has taken you so long to search all of it,” Lord Bertrand
continued. “Though, from what I’ve been told, you have questioned
everyone who lives here in Warden’s Manor and most of the folk in
Gorey village, too.”
“We have been busy,” said Cadwallon with one
of his broad grins.
Lord Bertrand sent Cadwallon a look that
Desmond, watching closely, could not decipher. But the quick glance
put all of Desmond’s senses on alert.
“I have finished dictating my replies to the
letters you brought from King Henry and from Royce,” Lord Bertrand
said. “My secretary promises he will have them ready for my seal
first thing tomorrow morning. So, if you have been waiting for
them, my lord, you need delay your leave taking no longer.”
Desmond felt Elaine, who was seated between
himself and Lord Bertrand, stiffen as if in shock at such rudeness.
She turned from Lord Bertrand to cast a worried gaze upon Desmond,
who smiled in hope of reassuring her.
“How much longer will your investigation
take?” she asked.
“We will need
two men to Jersey.
“I’ve a good mind to send you back to your
mother, perhaps in Lord Cadwallon’s charge,” Lord Bertrand
threatened, scowling at her. “After a few days with Irmina, you
will learn to appreciate our kindness.”
“I cannot leave until I know where Aglise
is,” Elaine protested, afraid if she did leave the island, she
would never solve the mystery of her sister’s disappearance. For
reasons she dared not explain out loud, she was certain the truth
about Aglise lay on Jersey.
Upon hearing her words, Lord Bertrand’s scowl
deepened, though he said no more on the subject.
Through all of the trivial domestic
irritations of the afternoon that followed, Elaine pondered the
question she could not dismiss from her mind. Should she confess to
Desmond and Cadwallon what little she knew about the most intimate
details of her sister’s recent life? Was it time to destroy
Aglise’s good name in hope the information, once revealed, would
aid in finding her?
Aglise had not confided in Elaine; she had
chosen to keep silent and she had proven to be amazingly discreet.
But Elaine, knowing and loving her sister so well, had finally
discovered the truth.
Castles and manor houses, crowded and
enclosed upon themselves as they were, especially in isolated
locations such as Jersey, were not places where secrets could
easily be kept for long. Elaine had pieced together snatches of
accidentally overheard conversations, the impression given by
glances exchanged when seemingly no one else was looking, the blush
that often lay on Aglise’s soft cheeks, and she was certain she had
reached the correct conclusions. Moreover, since Elaine had
discovered what Aglise was involved in, it was likely other people
had made the same discovery.
When Desmond and Cadwallon appeared in the
great hall that evening Elaine scarcely knew whether to be glad to
see them or worried that they, too, would soon uncover facts
damaging to Aglise. The question of how much to reveal to them
gnawed at her. She took her seat beside Desmond at the high table
wishing she dared lay her head on his chest and pour out all her
fears.
Then she reminded herself that beautiful
Aglise might have done the same thing and immediately received the
comfort and understanding tenderness she sought. Elaine, who
thought of herself as the plain, quiet, uninteresting sister, knew
better than to expect tenderness from any man.
Desmond noted Elaine’s pale face and
carefully contained manner and wondered what had caused it, and why
she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Before he could pursue the
matter his host intervened, speaking with a heartiness that Desmond
found false.
“Well, good sirs, have you finished your
investigation?” Lord Bertrand asked.
“Not yet,” Desmond answered, doing his best
to sound noncommittal.
“Since Jersey is so small, I am surprised it
has taken you so long to search all of it,” Lord Bertrand
continued. “Though, from what I’ve been told, you have questioned
everyone who lives here in Warden’s Manor and most of the folk in
Gorey village, too.”
“We have been busy,” said Cadwallon with one
of his broad grins.
Lord Bertrand sent Cadwallon a look that
Desmond, watching closely, could not decipher. But the quick glance
put all of Desmond’s senses on alert.
“I have finished dictating my replies to the
letters you brought from King Henry and from Royce,” Lord Bertrand
said. “My secretary promises he will have them ready for my seal
first thing tomorrow morning. So, if you have been waiting for
them, my lord, you need delay your leave taking no longer.”
Desmond felt Elaine, who was seated between
himself and Lord Bertrand, stiffen as if in shock at such rudeness.
She turned from Lord Bertrand to cast a worried gaze upon Desmond,
who smiled in hope of reassuring her.
“How much longer will your investigation
take?” she asked.
“We will need
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