Dawn on a Distant Shore
Page 162

Nathaniel's laughter died away suddenly.
Before them was Elphinstone Tower. Hannah called this the secret tower, but it looked anything but secret at this moment. Some kind of gathering was going on, and no one had bothered to close the draperies.
Nathaniel took her arm and pulled her away, around the corner and toward the gates into the courtyard. They did not speak until they were out of the guard's hearing.
"What did Hannah say about that tower?"
She lifted a shoulder. "Not so very much, Nathaniel. Apparently Lady Carryck's chambers were locked at her death, on the earl's orders. She did not admit to it, but I would not be surprised if Jennet took her there somehow."
He said, "Right now it don't look locked at all."
"Perhaps the earl likes to spend some time there in privacy," Elizabeth suggested. "Perhaps he took his guests to see his lady's portrait. Did you recognize anyone?"
Nathaniel nodded. "Carryck himself, and Contrecoeur."
"And Mrs. Hope," she added. "But it may well be completely innocent, Nathaniel."
"Maybe so. But there's something about the way they were standing there. Can't put my finger on it right now."
"Nathaniel." Elizabeth pulled his face around to her, and looked hard into his eyes. "They might be playing whist, for all we know."
He frowned at her. "Do you really believe that, Boots?"
Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. Her upbringing told her that it was wrong to be so inquisitive about something obviously meant to be private; her experience with Moncrieff and Carryck made it clear that propriety and good manners were a luxury she must do without. None of it quite fit together, and it would keep her awake tonight.
They were in the hall off the courtyard when Nathaniel said, "What I want to know is, what Contrecoeur has got to do with all this."
"So do I, Nathaniel. But it can wait until tomorrow, can it not?"
He didn't even hear her. His attention had shifted away suddenly, as if he had caught the scent of something he had been looking for.
"Moncrieff."
She heard only the sound of steps in the Great Hall, but she had no doubt that Nathaniel was right. She followed him.
The courtyard lantern cast enough light through the windows to show them that the room was empty. Then Elizabeth's eyes adjusted to the shadows and she saw Angus Moncrieff at the far end of the hall, near the door that must lead to Elphinstone Tower.
"Avoiding us, Angus?" Nathaniel's voice echoed slightly. "Where you off to in such a hurry?"
They had narrowed the distance between them considerably before Moncrieff spoke.
"I have business," he said stiffly.
"With the earl," Nathaniel supplied. "And so do we. Maybe we'll just come along."
"I canna allow it," said Moncrieff. In the vague light Elizabeth could see the perspiration on his forehead, just as she could read the flush of anger that ran through Nathaniel by the way his back straightened. But there was nothing of it in his voice.
"Now, that's curious," Nathaniel said, stopping just in front of the man. "You thinkin' you can forbid me anything at all."
In a corner a mouse scratched and worried, and for a moment that was the only sound. Then in one quick movement Nathaniel reached out and neatly plucked a string that hung around Moncrieff's neck and disappeared into his shirt. The string broke and Moncrieff jerked in surprise, his voice spiking in outrage. "What's this? Have ye no decency, man?"
Nathaniel stepped back, examining his prize.
"That was ma faither's. Ye've no use for it."
"I ain't so sure."
Elizabeth came closer to look, and was surprised to see that it was not a pendant or medallion, but a simple square of soft dark material, half the length of Nathaniel's thumb. In its middle was another square, this one of white linen sewn down with a zigzag stitch. The whole was faded and frayed at the edges, and the image on the white linen was so faint that Elizabeth could not make it out in the poor light.
"I'll thank ye tae give it back," Moncrieff said sharply. "It's got nothing to do with you."
"You'll thank me. Now, that's a novelty, ain't it. The earl wears something just like this around his neck too."
Moncrieff's head snapped back. "How--" And then, his whole body shaking in anger: "Ye canna ha' seen what the earl wears or doesna wear around his neck!"
"Maybe not, but you just told me what I suspected. So what is this thing?"
"I'll say nae more."
Nathaniel held it out to Elizabeth. "Do you recognize this, Boots?"
Elizabeth took it and went to the window to study it by the courtyard light.
"I do not," she said. "And it is too faded to read. But perhaps there is someone we could ask. The earl?"
Moncrieff stilled suddenly. "Ye canna bother the laird wi' this."
"I don't see why not." Nathaniel reached for the door. "He's up there in the tower, entertaining his visitors. A few more won't hurt."
"Ye have no idea," Moncrieff said.
Elizabeth said, "Exactly. That is exactly why we must persevere."
Whatever he had been expecting, the tower room took Nathaniel by surprise. It smelled nothing of a battlefield surgery and wounds gone bad.
Most of the people who had been here just ten minutes ago were gone. The Hakim stood close by, and on a chair next to a narrow bed sat Monsieur Contrecoeur, still dressed as he had been for dinner, all in black from the fine coat and breeches to his gloves. He had come here in a hurry, and the reason was clear: the man in the bed was dying.