The Vanishing at Loxby Manor Abigail Wilson (the red fox clan .TXT) 📖

to. Presently I need to change for dinner.” His focusswung like a pendulum between Piers and me, and then a sly smile creased his lips. “What have the two of you been about today?”

Piers shoved his brother’s arm. “A simple walk, nothing more. Get on with you. We won’t hold supper.” He thrust the front door wide for Avery, but as soon as Avery passed, Piers extended his hand to stop me. “Allow me to apologize for Avery. You mustn’t let him get under your skin. He likes to tease me is all. I assure you, I’ve no intention of burdening any lady with my disgrace, particularly you.”

I couldn’t help but touch my face as I took a step back. Was that what his letter was getting at? His responsibilities? “I,uh, never do take Avery seriously, at any rate.”

“Good.” He motioned me through the door, but I hesitated once inside.

“Piers?”

An idea had been growing all day, and Avery’s artful evasion only solidified the notion. “If Avery continues to fob us offand Lord Kendal has left the area, should we not reach out to Tony Shaw and Hugh Daunt? It has been years since I’ve seenthem, and it would give us the perfect excuse to broach more delicate topics. I seem to remember Tony had a rather loose tongue.”

“You mean like a dinner party here at Loxby?”

“Something like that. We all cry friends, after all. Setting up an evening of entertainment would be a natural thing to do—abit of a welcome party for me, perhaps.”

“Except Seline is not in residence.”

“No one is aware of that at present. We shall have to speak to your mother of course, but I think we should be able to comeup with a plausible excuse for Seline’s absence for one night. An unfortunate cold perhaps that keeps her abovestairs.”

“And how do you propose to get our questions answered?”

I searched the ceiling for answers. “Carefully, I suppose.”

“Extremely carefully, and there are a few things you are forgetting.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “First off, I’ve never been one for parties. Surely you remember that I avoid them like the plague.”

“Oh fustian. You danced with me at the Dowding’s ball.”

“Once.”

I gave him a hard smile. “Then Avery can play host if you are too put out to do so.”

He added quickly, “There’s also that nasty little issue that I am decidedly de trop.”

I knew Piers merely meant to weasel his way out of attending our little soiree, and I had no intention of letting him do so.He’d had five years outside of Liverpool to be alone. If I was willing to overcome my own reservations about a dinner partyto help Seline, then he could do so as well.

“I don’t think Mr. Shaw or Mr. Daunt will keep their obvious distaste for you from ruining an evening with me.”

His mouth fell open, and then he laughed. “I suppose they wouldn’t. Shall we set the date, Captain Halliwell?”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and we both turned to see Mrs. Cavanagh bustling down the steps. She grasped the banister,gasping for air. “Thank goodness I’ve found you at last.”

I thought she meant Piers, so I was surprised when her gaze fell to me. She couldn’t seem to speak without the aid of herhands. “Mr. Cavanagh is asking to see you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t act so shocked. He simply remembers your family and would like to send his best wishes to them through you.” Her lipsquivered as she pressed them together. “I’m afraid he won’t be dissuaded. I promise you it will only be a quick chat, andI shall not leave your side. Now, come on, gel.”

Chapter 7

Mrs. Cavanagh thrust open the door to her husband’s bedchamber and flounced into the room on a rustling wave of muslin andlace.

Left alone in the hall with nothing but my teeming doubts, the first waves of nausea seeped into my body. Why had Mrs. Cavanaghbeen so adamant to keep me away and then turn around and force me to visit her husband? It didn’t make any sense.

Mrs. Cavanagh trounced back to the door and motioned for me to enter with a sharp flick of the wrist.

I took a deep breath. I had few options really. As Mrs. Cavanagh’s guest with nowhere else to go, I had no choice but to doas she bid. I pushed my shoulders back and trudged forward.

Almost at once the dull, grassy scent of age assaulted my senses. Mr. Cavanagh’s private chamber seemed almost as if it stoodfrozen in time, an ornate reminder of his once grand position as head of the household. Neglect, however, had been allowedto creep in. Dust littered the pictures and nooks in the dressers as spiders were left to decorate the corners. I supposeMrs. Cavanagh saw little need to address such issues with her husband blind, but the thought did not settle well.

I inched across the remains of a worn rug as a nurse with red-rimmed eyes shot me a cold stare. The bony woman did nothing but shuffle by me on her way from the room, leaving me to the bitter silence of the unknown.

An enormous gray fireplace flanked the whole of one wall and maintained the room in what I could only call oppressive heat.Mrs. Cavanagh did not address the figure in the great poster bed—not at first—as she shoved a chair near the head of the bed.She signaled with her chin for me to come closer, the solitary candle at the bedside highlighting a scowl on her face.

My mouth felt dry as I fought the questions rolling through my mind. What would Mr. Cavanagh look like now . . . after theaccident? My feet grew heavy, then stopped as I clutched my skirt in my fingers. Was I afraid of him?

My muscles stiffened as I settled into the seat Mrs. Cavanagh had provided. The draped canopy kept Mr. Cavanagh’s motionlessbody in shadows until Mrs. Cavanagh drew back the thin cloth and repositioned the candle.

Ever so slowly, I leaned forward and stifled a gasp. My body felt suddenly sluggish as I grappled to recognize the skeletalgentleman lying still before me.

His