The Vanishing at Loxby Manor by Abigail Wilson (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

on the terrace. The surge of the wind, the hush of leaves, the intermittent rustling of small nocturnal animals. The scent of woodsmoke lingered from the day’s fires. I wrapped my arms close about my middle and stepped into the clearing, hoping I might get a better view of the abbey.

Then I heard it—a faint sniffle.

I spun to find Mrs. Cavanagh seated on a curved bench beneath the large, central oak tree. My hand flew to my chest. “I-Ididn’t realize anyone was out here.”

She had a handkerchief gripped tightly in her hand and dabbed it generously at her eyes. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t . . . wake me.”

She hadn’t changed her gown from the dinner party, and I wondered how on earth she’d found her way to the garden after shejourneyed to her room. I took a seat at her side. “You should be in bed. It has been a long day.”

She shook her head, but it was more of a slow quiver. “I can’t sleep, not anymore. ’Pon my word, I’m not certain I shall everdo so again.”

“Should I fetch Mr. Baker to summon the doctor? Perhaps he can give you something that might help.”

“Thank you, my dear, but he has already done so. The only thing that can take this ache from my heart will be for my daughterto return home.”

The clang of an iron gate jerked our attention to the far side of the garden as a dark figure passed into the moonlight.

Avery.

I had been right. The garden was the perfect place to wait for whoever had journeyed to the abbey. Now more than ever I wanted answers, but we were not alone. I assisted Mrs. Cavanagh to her feet, and Avery sidestepped through a rather awkward pause as he took in the two of us waiting for him beneath the oak tree.

He spoke naturally enough. “Mother, Charity, what brings the two of you out here so late?”

“We could ask you the same question.” I wished I’d hid the interrogation from my voice a bit better as Avery pulled slightlyaway.

He spoke to his mother. “You shouldn’t be in this damp cold. Come, let me take the both of you inside.”

As Mrs. Cavanagh moved, Avery cast a piercing look at me, quelling the questions forming in my mind, and I was relegated towalk behind them as they traversed the short garden path back to the door. It wasn’t until Avery held the door wide for meto pass through that I saw what was tucked into the crook of his arm.

It was none other than a black cloak.

*  *  *

I woke early the following morning, determined to catch Piers before he left on horseback for Kinwich Abbey. I had been eagerto search the ruins since the night Seline disappeared, but after seeing that light again last night, then Avery with thecloak in his arms in the garden, there was no way Piers was going on a hunt for answers without me.

I called for my maid and dressed quickly in my favorite dark green riding habit. A hasty bite of a muffin and I hightailedfrom the house, straight to the wide, double doors of Loxby stables where I couldn’t help but stop short. I knew Mr. Cavanaghwas well-known as a horse man in the district. I’d heard that even after his accident he still kept a fine selection of cattle,as Piers and Avery had both been brought up with the same horse-mad affliction. But nothing could have prepared me for thisnew stable complex.

Piers had expanded the large central room, which now held rows of cribs, each wooden post decorated with the Cavanagh crest. A groom whistled as he waltzed from the harness room, a bridle in his hands. “Good morning. Can I saddle a horse for you, miss?”

“Why yes, I’m to ride with Mr. Cavanagh this morning.”

“Ah.” He smiled. “I’m just getting Gypsy ready now.”

My heart gave a stir. Gypsy? I’d not seen him in years. I took a few steps forward to get a better look at the stallion aroundthe crib wall. He was as magnificent as he’d been five years prior. His dark brown eyes found mine, and I ran my hand downhis nose. “Good to see you, too, boy.”

I wondered if Piers’s horse remembered me as well as I did him. Piers and Gypsy had always made a striking display when theycrossed the fields. I used to watch them from my bedchamber window at Flitworth Manor every morning.

I took in a long, sweet breath of hay.

“So you plan to steal my horse now? I suppose he always did like you better than me.”

Piers stood in the doorway, a riding crop tucked beneath his arm. He cast a shrewd glance at Gypsy. “Traitor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s far too spirited for me, but I have come to join you on your quest this morning.”

Piers stood still as he considered my announcement, his eyes wandering to the nearby groom. I was a bit surprised when hereturned a rather pleasant, “I would like that.”

“In all this grandeur have you a horse I may ride?”

He laughed. “She’s still here, you know.”

My mouth fell open and I whirled to face him.

“That’s right. Jewel’s here.”

My hand sought my neck. “You mean you actually kept her all this time?”

He gave a slight shrug, then lifted his eyes to mine. “She was far too pretty to get rid of.”

I looked around. “Where is she?”

He extended his finger. “Fourth crib on the right.”

My legs were moving before he’d finished his sentence. Papa had paid Mr. Cavanagh to stable Jewel for me, but when we departedfor Ceylon, he had left instructions to have Piers’s father sell her off. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

How I wished I’d brought a treat for her. The sweet gray mare I’d come to love seemed uninterested at first as I walked tothe front of her crib. That is, until I spoke her name.

“Jewel.”

Her eyes immediately perked up and she tugged against her lead, nudging her long nose up against me. My heart melted, andI ran my hand along her silky neck.

Piers