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

time to time and look at it to keep me from writing to you. When Mr. Cavanagh awoke the next day, we told him that ahorse had kicked him and caused his memory confusion. He never knew it was me, at least not at first.

“But then Seline disappeared and everything went sideways. Knowing the monster that lived in our house, I couldn’t help but consider your father. But how could it be true? How could he do such a thing, blind and feeble as he was? So much of me wanted to believe Seline had really run off with that stable boy. I never even considered the idea that Mr. Cavanagh wasn’t blind. He had us all fooled . . . and for so long. Baker must have been his confidant for years. I know that now.

“I found Mr. Cavanagh’s room empty for the first time but a few days ago. I was terrified at what such a thing could possiblymean. I began watching him, studying his movements. Then I caught him yesterday in my dressing room without assistance, rummagingaround behind my screen. He had full control of his faculties, and I knew for certain his eyesight was not as poor as he’dled us to believe. Everything was moving too fast, and you and Avery had already left. I didn’t know what to do.”

The weight of her words drew her shoulders back against the sofa.

Piers cast me a quick glance before turning back to his mother. “It is good to know it all finally, and I realize exposingyour role in all this must have been extremely difficult. But shame is an insidious illness that only seeks to weaken anddestroy you. I know that better than most.

“Baker shall have to be turned over to the authorities.” He dipped his head. “I have no intention of leaving Loxby Manor,nor any of this family ever again. We have a great deal to sort out and much to understand and forgive, but we shall mournour losses and find a way to move on together.”

Chapter 30

The following weeks passed by surrounded by a large black cloud. I rarely saw Piers, as the official investigation into themurders had begun. We all knew there would be no way to sidestep the inevitable scandal Mr. Cavanagh had brought upon theentire family.

Though we were still in Mrs. Cavanagh’s ordained mourning period of six months, no one came to visit Loxby Hall beyond herexpected four-week seclusion as a widow. It would be some time before the Cavanagh name wouldn’t be tainted by tragedy. However,I don’t think Mrs. Cavanagh gave our social isolation a second thought.

The death of her daughter had changed everything.

I spent most of those long mornings with her in the drawing room and the afternoons walking the grounds alone. That is, untilI changed course one warm spring day and made my way on foot to Flitworth Manor, my childhood home. At first I only wantedto see it again, spurred on by thoughts of Arthur, but as I neared the wide, menacing structure, something else sprang tomind.

I’d never met the tenants, nor had the least idea how to approach them, but after all I’d endured, I, too, had changed. I no longer lived my life in fear. So I approached the entrance, and when I was introduced to the lady of the house, I raised my chin and asked with conviction to be shown to the greenhouse.

*  *  *

I set the small potted plant I’d fetched from Flitworth Manor beside me on the bench, my eyes trained to Loxby’s garden gate,my heart reckless as I waited. Though I’d left Piers a note to join me, I had no idea how long he would be or what he wouldthink of what I had to say.

The sun had dipped below the far wall, the gray warmth of twilight softening the plants and cooling the earth. A pop of thelatch and the gate swung open.

Piers paused a step into the garden, my note still in his hands, an inquisitive calm relaxing his face. “You summoned me?”A smile emerged as he made his way to the bench.

“Yes. I’ve been a bit busy today.”

“Have you?” He motioned at the small plant. “What’s all this?”

I slid the plant onto my lap. “I fetched this for you from Flitworth Manor. Do you recognize it?”

He stared for a moment. “Should I?”

“Not exactly.” I ran my finger along a green leaf. “When we were children you gave me an orange once, and after I’d eatenit, I told you I meant to grow a tree. You laughed at me at the time, but you also didn’t know that Flitworth Manor had ahothouse, and I was a favorite of the undergardener, Mr. Wynn, who is actually still in residence.”

“Is he?”

“Well, I had a mind to see my past today, and while I was there, I asked to visit the greenhouse where I happened upon Mr. Wynn. This little plant here was grown from a seed of my original orange tree.”

“Was it really?”

“It was. I had hoped to retrieve a single orange, but Mr. Wynn suggested I take the whole thing.”

Piers smiled and took the plant into his hands. “It looks to be quite healthy. But we’ll have to reopen the greenhouse ifit’s to make it through the winter.”

“I brought it here for you. It’s a gift.”

His brows drew in. “For me?”

“I hoped it might be a reminder.”

He angled his chin.

“You sacrificed everything five years ago to protect my reputation, but I don’t want that one mistake to ruin the rest ofyour life. You see, this little plant here is ready for a new start at Loxby Manor, the same as you.

“Oh, Piers, just because society rejected you, doesn’t mean you need to reject you. You’re the same brilliant man you were before I left for Ceylon. You possess the same hopes and dreams,the same wonderful passions that make you who you are. I don’t know if a fellowship is possible now or what it would entailor when the investigation will come to a close here,