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

hooked his arm around the edge of the post. “I thought you might come back someday and want her.”

I couldn’t even form a response.

He motioned behind him. “Let’s allow the grooms to do their business. The horses will be ready soon enough.” Then he offeredhis arm.

I smiled as I took it. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see her.”

He touched my hand. “You’re welcome.”

He led me to a shaded area beneath the stable archway and clock where he pulled away. “I am glad of the company this morning,but I have to ask, what brings you to the stables so early?”

I raised my eyebrows. “I saw a light at Kinwich Abbey again last night. The very same one Seline and I viewed from my window the day she left the house. So I went to the garden, and who should arrive home but a few minutes later? Avery.”

Piers flexed his fingers. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

“Which is why I’d like to take a look around the abbey. Just the two of us. Something is going on at that place. SomethingAvery’s not telling us.”

After a moment he nodded. “Agreed.”

“And there’s more.” I reached into the pocket of my habit and pulled out the note Hugh had given me the previous night. “Hughpushed this into my hand a few minutes before the party broke up. He asked me to give it to Seline. I didn’t tell your motherbecause I wanted to speak with you first about what it said.”

Piers took the letter into his hand and opened it in the bright morning light.

My darling,

Where were you yesterday? I waited all morning, and you know how I yearn for you. If you are in need of help, do not be afraid. It’s past time the Society did something for me, regardless of what I have planned. Everything is set for next month. We cannot possibly fail.

Your faithful servant,

Hugh

I waited for Piers to read the whole of it. “What could it mean?”

He refolded the note. “Seline has always kept Hugh dangling on a string. I fear this is just more of her playacting.”

“But he said ‘the Society,’ not just ‘society.’ And what could be set for next month?”

“There’s no way to be certain.”

I returned his steady glare. “Unless we confront Avery.”

Piers stared down at the letter again as if he needed more explanation, but he wouldn’t find any hidden in the text.

I laid my hand on his arm, and his gaze met mine. “I know neither of us wants to paint your brother in a poor light, but lastnight . . . Piers, he had a cloak. One that looked similar to the one Seline borrowed from me the night she vanished.”

Chapter 10

The remains of Kinwich Abbey could be seen for miles around East Whitloe.

Built in the middle of an open meadow near the River Sternway in the thirteenth century, the small monastery included a gatehouse,an infirmary, and a bell tower. And as I’d learned from old paintings when I was a child, at one time, vast gardens and pools.For centuries the hallowed cluster of buildings was managed by a group of monks until it was dismantled officially by theDissolution of the Monasteries around the year 1540.

Today little was left of the grand structures but a section of the gatehouse and one wall of the main building with two rowsof crumbling cloisters, which at one time would have surrounded the central courtyard. Piers reined his horse to a halt afew feet from the gatehouse, and I directed Jewel beside him.

Creepers lined the ruins of the ancient walls as tall green grass carpeted every inch of the surrounding grounds. Pocketsof dew clung to the dampened stones, glistening in the rays of the morning sun. In the open the gentle wind was almost constant,bathing the ground in a reverent hush. Leaves scattered across what was left of the gatehouse’s stone flooring and dancedin and out of the ancient corners as if an invisible hand enjoyed swirling them just so.

Caught up in the humble aura of the place, we both seemed hesitant to dismount, but Piers eventually swung from his horse and turned to assist me. His arms rose automatically to help me down. He was a gentleman, after all. But when his eyes met mine, there was an uncomfortable split second of indecision in his gaze.

He shook the moment off as quickly as it had come, slipping his hands around my waist, but the hesitation lingered in my heart.Though we had agreed to a working friendship—for Seline—I could no longer deny the unresolved emotions we still carried betweenus. Time had done nothing but intensify an attraction I couldn’t begin to understand. What was it about Piers Cavanagh thatarrested my good sense?

Piers motioned ahead. “After you.”

The cloisters lay beyond the remains of the gatehouse, and I walked straight for the ruins, trying in vain not to read intothe strain in his voice.

The sun gleamed through the open remains of a small circular window at the pitch of the main building, and I was forced toshield my eyes. “I don’t suppose the ghosts come out in the daylight?”

Piers was but a step behind me. “I wouldn’t know. My father did a pretty good job of scaring us all when we were children.I’ve only ever come here a handful of times.”

I grimaced. “I remember. It was about a monk who was murdered, right?”

“I wish I could say my father’s whimsical notions were completely false, but I’ve come to understand there was actually atragedy at this place centuries ago. He must have based his ghost stories on the legend.”

“Oh? I didn’t know.”

“Not a murder, but a man did lose his life in a terrible way.” He pointed to the center of the courtyard. “In fact, the place where it supposedly happened is ahead. Follow me.”

A chill skirted across my shoulders as we came upon the dregs of a fire, and