6

Mabena blew inside with a stiff sea breeze that had won the battle with a few of her hairpins. She summoned a laugh to her lips, ready to deliver it on cue to Libby, if she were inside, though it was entirely possible she was out enjoying the afternoon on the island.

The laughter died on her lips when her quick scan delivered not only Libby on the sofa, but Oliver Tremayne himself. She pushed shut the door and mentally scrambled for what she meant to say—to each of them together, and separately. She’d thought she’d have another day or two to decide on what story to give them both. But here they were.

“Mr. Tremayne. What a pleasant surprise.”

Apparently not the story Ollie had been expecting her to tell, given she’d never in her life addressed him as “mister” anything. And the arch of his brow called her on it—though he turned said arch toward her alone so that Libby couldn’t see it. He might not approve of her decisions, but he wouldn’t take her to task in front of an outsider. “Miss Moon. How lovely to see you again. I had no idea you were coming home for the summer.”

She heard the accusation as clearly as she would the bells in St. Mary’s tower come Sunday. She could only hope Libby didn’t. “Lady Elizabeth needed a holiday. Didn’t you, my lady? And I told her there was no lovelier place in all of England than the Scillies.”

Libby didn’t look particularly suspicious. Just curious, which was nearly as bad. “Mr. Tremayne’s sister seems to be missing, Moon. Beth—she was staying here before us. It was her things we found. Do you know her? Well, of course you know her. I mean . . .”

Mabena’s heart might as well have stopped beating. Oliver knew, then? That Beth had vanished into thin air? She hadn’t counted on that either. She’d rather hoped she’d be able to poke around a bit without alarming him or his grandmother. Without shining a light on whatever secrets Beth had been hiding.

Hiding from him. From everyone here. When Mabena blinked, she could see those hastily scrawled words. “I don’t know what Ollie would say if he knew, but it wouldn’t be good. I can’t let him find out.”

Mabena hadn’t a clue what Beth didn’t want him to know. But still, it was a trust. And she’d not break it. Not now, at any rate, when the answers to Beth’s whereabouts could be simple.

She pasted on a look of mild concern that she moved between the two on the sofa. “Beth Tremayne is the Elizabeth who Mrs. Pepper was so put out with? But that makes precious little sense. What was your sister doing here for the summer instead of at her own home, sir?”

His nostrils flared the slightest bit at that sir, and he cleared his throat. “That is what Lady Elizabeth and I were just trying to discern—because clearly she was about something more than the holiday she said she wanted.” He motioned to the table.

Mabena frowned at it while she unpinned her hat. “What’s all this, then?”

Libby pushed to her feet. “There are a few other things I’d like to check too, in my room. I don’t know if they were Beth’s or just came with the house. Mr. Tremayne can tell you what we know while I look—and put away my microscope.”

“Microscope?” Oliver stood, being too much of a gentleman to do otherwise. Though with an eagerness that said he might just leave Mabena to inform herself while he went to investigate the lady’s toy.

Had the lady not been there, Mabena would have laughed out a “Down, boy,” as if he were the wolfhound he’d had as a lad.

Perhaps he heard her silent jest even through her still lips, because he glanced her way and relaxed. A bit.

Libby was already angled toward the bedrooms. “The light isn’t very good for its mirror out here right now, but I can bring it too, if you like. Not that it will help us with the question of your sister, but . . .”

But she’d heard the note of eagerness, obviously. And where it made Mabena want to roll her eyes, it would make Libby thrum her own note of it. Quite a chord they’d make—or part of one, anyway.

“Ah.” Usually Ollie would have been quick to agree. But it took him a long moment to say, “That would be lovely, if you don’t mind. I haven’t seen one since my university days.”

Libby smiled, bobbed her head in a half-shy acknowledgment, and scurried into the bedroom.

Oliver spun on Mabena, making it quite clear why he’d hesitated but decided to ask—to buy him a few more minutes to question her as the lady gathered things up in the other room. “What in blazes are you about, Benna?”

“Exactly what I said. She wanted to visit, so we came.”

His eyes, nearly black, snapped at her. “Don’t lie to me. I know very well coming here couldn’t have been her idea.”

Everyone knew her so well, did they? First Casek Wearne, and now Oliver Tremayne. She planted her hands on her hips, then huffed out a breath. They had a point, after all. “Fine.” She shifted a bit so she’d see the moment Libby reappeared in her doorway. “If you must know, Lady Elizabeth had a rather urgent need to escape her family. And I knew of no other place to recommend she go.”

There. That had enough of the truth in it that he ought to hear it in her voice and believe her.

Which he must have done, given the way he frowned and eased closer, darting a glance at where Libby had gone. “What? Why did she have to escape them? She wasn’t in any danger, was she? Hurt in some way?”

That was Ollie—always ready to play the hero.

No, it was more than that. Always quick, so quick, to care. This time her exhale was more sigh than huff. “Nothing like that. Her brother was trying to convince her to marry his best friend, Lord Sheridan—a marquess. And the lady wanted nothing to do with his plans. That’s all.” Libby wouldn’t be happy she’d shared that, probably, given her inclination toward privacy. But she couldn’t very well let Ollie worry over her too, could she?

His shoulders eased back down to a normal position, rolled back. He nodded. And reached for her elbow. “Mabena—”

“Oh no you don’t.” She leapt away from his touch. “None of that elbow-magic of yours, Oliver Tremayne. I’ll keep my heart to myself, thank you.”

He breathed a laugh and slanted a look at her that made his next words redundant. “I don’t need your elbow to know your heart.”

Probably true, but still. Everyone in the Scillies knew that when Oliver Tremayne took hold of your arm and looked deep into your eyes, he saw right down to your soul. A few of the old biddies whispered that it went beyond the natural. Mabena didn’t know about that, but she granted it had made him the easy choice to fill the role of village vicar. Everyone had already loved him. Trusted him. Wanted to share their secrets with him and receive in turn his encouragement and counsel.

But Mabena wasn’t in need of any spiritual guidance, thank you very much. She just needed to know where Beth was. “Can we focus, Ollie? She’ll be back out any moment.”

“Certainly. You can begin by explaining why you don’t want your employer to know that we—”

“Because,” she said with exaggerated articulation, just to interrupt him, “it would raise more questions than I care to answer about what took me to her home in response to their advertisement about a position. Beth, if you recall, provided my recommendation.”

And why was the look he gave her bordering on sad? Or worse, disappointed? “Benna.”

“Don’t chide me. That’s a bed I made long ago, and I’m happy enough to lie in it. So play along, will you? Pretend I’m just another parishioner.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could argue—which was clearly what he intended—Libby appeared in her doorway, her arms full of scientific whatnot, giving Mabena the perfect excuse to rush forward. Away from Oliver Tremayne. “Oh, my lady! Let me help you with that before you drop something.”

Libby relinquished a basket full of papers she was juggling, though she kept the microscope firmly in hand. At least the grin she gave Mabena assured her that she hadn’t heard any of the furious whispering. “How was the visit to your parents, Mabena? You weren’t gone all that long.”

“I wanted to be back in time to help prepare dinner.” She smiled too, though it didn’t feel as effortless as Libby’s looked. “And there was much fussing, as anticipated.” A few too many tears in her mam’s eyes, too, and Tas had threatened not to allow her to leave again as he held her tight to his chest in an embrace as strong as a bear’s. She’d not struggled free either. Just closed her eyes and breathed him in—salt and sea and sawdust. For a moment, she’d actually entertained the notion of letting him convince her of coming home. Staying home. Going into his shop again to watch him craft the vessels that connected the islands. Helping Mam weave her silver and stones and the occasional gem into jewelry to sell to the tourists.

Running into Wearnes every time she turned a corner.

No, the memory of the hour she’d spent in Casek’s boat had been enough to remind her why she’d left to begin with.

“I came back with other holiday-goers staying here on St. Mary’s.” Not with the obnoxious headmaster of the National School. She turned, aiming a smile at where Oliver still stood. “You know what would make the trip faster? If the locals would invest in a few of those motorboats to run the tourists around.”

Oliver snorted his opinion of that. “Right. And we should all bring automobiles over from the mainland too and string electricity.”

“My next suggestion.”

He shook his head. But any levity the idea brought faded as his gaze caught on the basket in her hands. He met them halfway into the sitting room and took it from her, reaching with a frown to pull out a book. Specifically, a well-worn Bible. Mabena couldn’t readily recall if it was Beth’s or not, but Oliver clearly recognized it. He set the basket onto the low table before the sofa and stood there, flipping through it.

Libby put her microscope and slides onto the table, which left Mabena with little to do other than examine the strange collection. Some of the items made perfect sense for Beth to have brought here—books, paper, clothes. But others made her frown. A small concretion. A ragged edge of parchment. From the basket, a piece of driftwood that looked like it came from a board rather than a branch.

Items Beth had collected over the years as she explored the islands. Of sentimental value, yes . . . but why bring them here just for the summer?

Oliver set the Bible down, holding up in its place a piece of paper. Perhaps it had been tucked into the pages. He flipped it over to check the back, revealing the front to her. Oliver, written on it in Beth’s hand.

Mabena’s breath caught. A note? Would it have some explanation? Or was it just Beth pouring out her frustrations in something she’d decided not to give him? Or, perhaps more likely, one of the letters she was supposed to send him twice a week. Unfinished, maybe.

Oliver sank onto the sofa, flipping open the paper. As his eyes darted back and forth across the page, Mabena lowered the slip of parchment she’d been holding to her side. “What is it?”

His brows were as low as a bank of storm clouds. “I’m not entirely certain. What do you think?”

He handed it over far too casually, in her opinion, something unlikely if they were the mere acquaintances she was trying to pretend they were. But Libby didn’t seem to think anything of it, just came to Mabena’s side to look at it with her. Always more curious than polite, that was Libby. And much as Mabena had the sudden urge to shield the letter from her, she squelched it. It would give away too much about how invested she was in what Libby would think only a mystery.

Oliver,

I know you’ll be unhappy with me, and I’m sorry for that. I only meant to have a bit of fun, find a new story to tell, perhaps earn a bit. But it’s certainly not fun now. I can’t undo the last month, but I can try to put a stop to the trouble brewing, anyway. Only, I can’t do that where I’ve been. But I know you’re not going to like the plan I came up with, and so . . . well, so I’m not telling you.

I know it’s cruel of me to leave you guessing, and I’m sorry for that too. I assume Mrs. Pepper will return this and everything else to you, and no doubt you’ll worry. Try not to. I can’t say more than that—I know well you’ll interfere. You won’t be able to help yourself. Just trust me, big brother. Please? And if you would pay Mrs. Pepper for the cottage when she comes to you, that would be lovely. I’ll need it again soon.

If all goes well, I’ll be back home and annoying you within a few weeks. I’ve tried to put a few safeguards in place in case anything goes awry. There are no guarantees, of course, when one is dealing with this sort of thing, but . . . but I can’t in good conscience let it go unanswered. Even if it is unlikely I’ll prevail against them, I have to try. I owe it to him.

If you get this before Johnnie’s funeral, tell his mum I’m sorry I wasn’t there. He was a sweet lad.

Beth

Mabena’s frown was no doubt every bit as thunderous as Oliver’s. “Johnnie?”

“Rosedew.” Oliver’s voice was low; no doubt he was remembering that Beth wasn’t the only one who would regret missing his funeral. Mabena had helped watch him for his mum when he was little. Ages ago. He would have been, what, sixteen by now? “Had an accident two weeks ago, in Piper’s Hole on Tresco. He must have slipped, went down hard and . . . No one was with him, but a few of his chums found him next morning.” He shook his head, sorrow thick on his face. “His mother’s a wreck. Poor lad.”

She very nearly reached for his elbow. Funerals were, she knew, his least favorite part of the job. And it would be worse when it was that sort of funeral. “A couple weeks ago? Then this must have been written before the funeral but after the accident.”

“Must have been. I—” He was interrupted by a knock upon the door.

Libby huffed. “If it’s another someone looking for your sister, Mr. Tremayne, I’ll let you talk to them.” She spun to the door before Mabena could thrust the letter back to Oliver and insist she ought to answer all knocks instead. It wasn’t fitting for a lady when Mabena was there.

But Libby, of course, never thought of such things. She merely pulled the door open before Mabena could get out so much as a squeak of protest, revealing a glowering Mrs. Pepper with a basket as big as her scowl.

“Mrs. Pepper!” Libby’s greeting was pure sweetness—and perhaps relief at it being someone who knew who she was, more or less. “How—”

“Was that a man’s voice I heard?” Their landlady pushed her way in. “I hadn’t thought it necessary to set down the rules for you, being well bred as you clearly are, but—oh! Mr. Tremayne!”

The woman’s demeanor changed as swiftly as lightning when she spotted Oliver. Mabena rolled her eyes—she couldn’t help it. It was annoying and convenient both how he had that effect on people.

He’d folded the letter in the moments when she and Libby were turned to the door, and he now smiled warmly at the old biddy, holding out a hand toward her. “Hello, Mrs. Pepper.”

She put her hand into his, setting her basket down to a gentle rest on the floor. “How good it is to see you again. I thought I’d not get the chance once your sister went home. Are you here on business or for a visit? Calling on Mr. Gale? He made mention of seeing if you would consider filling in for him one Sunday here, if that cough of his doesn’t improve.”

His smile didn’t so much as falter, though his mind surely snagged, as Mabena’s did, on that once your sister went home. “I’ll certainly be paying a visit to Mr. Gale. He did send me a note just yesterday, yes. And I told him I’d be happy to fill in for him at St. Mary’s soon. I’m going to encourage everyone at St. Nicholas’s to simply come over here with me.”

“Oh, we could have a meal together afterward, the whole parish together.” Mrs. Pepper positively beamed at him. “And we do so love to hear you now and then.”

“And I relish the time with you all as well.” He patted her hand, which still rested in his. “And how is Kayna, ma’am? And your husband?”

He had a way of asking those simple questions in a way that made it clear he actually cared about the answers. Where normally people would give a polite, simple answer, with him they responded with the truth. Hence Mrs. Pepper’s long sigh. “I do worry for Henry. He tries to do too much, never admitting he isn’t as young as he used to be. And Kayna hasn’t been quite the same since she lost the last babe.”

Mabena drew in a sharp breath. She hadn’t even known Kayna Pepper had married, much less that she’d lost a child—or more than one? Was that what “the last” indicated? Perhaps she oughtn’t to have told her parents not to bore her with island gossip. Then she wouldn’t feel quite like the world here had spun away from her.

“I’ve been praying for her and Thom every day,” Oliver said, his gaze never leaving the woman’s eyes.

She sniffled. “I know they’d appreciate it if you stopped in while you’re here. Poor Mr. Gale hasn’t been well enough for his usual visitations.”

“Absolutely. And I’ll make certain to say hello to your husband as well before I go home for the evening.”

Mabena was about ready to shake him—or Mrs. Pepper—to draw them back to the question of Beth. She had to curl her hands into fists to control them but didn’t quite manage to keep her feet still. She shifted from one to the other.

Oliver finally glanced at her, then back to the older woman. “Forgive me, Mrs. Pepper, but did you say Beth left for home?”

For a moment, her face went utterly blank. The kind that bespoke genuine surprise at the question. “Two weeks ago, wasn’t it? Right after poor Johnnie Rosedew. I thought at first she was just going to Tresco to be there for the funeral, but she took an awful lot with her. And when she didn’t come back—well, I knew you’d talked her into staying home. Though I must say, I was a trifle peevish when she didn’t bother letting me know she was done with the place. Had I not happened to see her leaving with all her things . . .”

Oliver’s frown dug its way back into his forehead as she spoke. “She didn’t come home.” He said it so simply. Clearly. So very briefly that even Mrs. Pepper must have heard how the words haunted him down to his soul.

“What? But of course she did! Where else could she have gone? I watched her for a good five minutes, and she was clearly going in the direction of Tresco.”

In lieu of a reply, Oliver shook his head, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He was likely clenching his teeth in that way he did when it took everything in him not to respond to something. Usually one of Casek’s taunts. He let go of her hand.

Mrs. Pepper lifted her newly freed fingers, shaking, to her lips. “But—no. The weather’s been fine, the currents normal. She was too able a sailor to get lost or go astray or get caught out, otherwise I never would have countenanced her going round alone as she did. Nothing bad could have happened to her. Not like your parents. Or Johnnie.”

Not like your parents. Or Johnnie. The Tremaynes, who had also known the tides and currents and weather as well as any other Scillonian but had still been caught out in a storm and drowned. Johnnie, who had known the dangers but had slipped on the wet rocks of the cave, presumably, and taken a fatal fall. Just two of many tragedies to steal the islands’ people in her memory.

With the greatest of care, Mabena uncurled each finger from her palm. There was no need to assume the worst. Not given that letter, opaque as it might be when it came to Beth’s reasons for going. The going was still part of her plan. As was coming back. Soon. Any day, given the timing. “A few weeks” was up, or nearly. And if she’d left with a boatload of things but those things weren’t the items she’d brought here, they were likely supplies. Food, necessities. Beth, wherever she was, was well provisioned. She was fine.

They just had to be patient for a little bit longer.

Though it must have cost him dearly, Oliver summoned a smile to his lips. “She’s off on an adventure, no doubt. That’s what the summer was meant to be for her. But I didn’t realize she’d left you without notice—and didn’t pay her rent, I assume?” He motioned toward Libby, who jumped a bit at the sudden attention.

Mrs. Pepper turned to her as if just remembering she was there. “Oh. Yes, I’m afraid so. And when Miss Sinclair contacted me inquiring about vacancies . . . well, as I said, I was a bit peevish at your sister’s abrupt departure. I’m sorry for that.”

“Quite all right. Beth clearly isn’t using the place, so Lady Elizabeth might as well.” Oliver motioned next to the odd assortment on the table. “I’ll just collect the rest of her things, I suppose. The lady informed me she’d left a bit in the drawers.”

Mrs. Pepper’s gaze flew between Libby and the belonging-strewn table. “Lady—forgive me, my lady, I had no idea!”

Libby sighed. Had she been a bit more like Mabena, she would have sent Oliver a glare for letting her secret slip. Though how she really expected to keep her family a secret for long, Mabena still wasn’t certain. As it was, however, Libby chased the sigh with a small smile. “There is nothing to forgive, ma’am.”

“Oh, but—allow me to help.” Mrs. Pepper bent, hoisted the basket again, and bustled toward the little kitchen. She still didn’t so much as glance at Mabena. “Shall I whip you up something for your meal?”

“No, no. We can see to it ourselves. You needn’t bother—”

“It’s hardly a bother to help, Lady Elizabeth. Won’t take me but a few minutes. The good vicar can entertain you while I work.”

The good vicar looked caught between amusement at suddenly going from guest to host and concern at the focus moving so quickly from Beth. He transferred that all-seeing gaze of his to Mabena again. “Would you fetch the clothing she left? Lady Elizabeth said you’d already moved it to your room.”

The idea made her shoulder blades edge together. There had been some comfort in having Beth’s clothing there, mingled among her own. “Are you going to carry it all about St. Mary’s with you while you visit Mr. Gale and the Peppers?”

“A valid point. I’ll have to come back for it all.” He looked out the window, toward the lowering sun. “In fact, I’d better be on my way or I’ll never have time to pay those visits and make it home before dark.” He turned to them again, darting a look at Mrs. Pepper.

The old biddy was so busy poking about in the kitchen that she didn’t even notice that she’d inconvenienced him.

“Well, you needn’t entertain us. Sir.” Mabena tried to keep her smile casual. Helpful even. She just wasn’t certain she managed it.

Oliver sighed. “I know. It’s just . . .” He surveyed the strange collection on the table again. And this time, it was she who could read his mind. It was just that Beth was gone, and he had no idea of where or how to find her. No idea if she was truly in trouble or merely chasing a lark. No idea if he should let her do whatever it was she meant to do or scour every inch of every island looking for her.

Perhaps Libby had been able to read those thoughts as easily as Mabena had. She edged forward, the slope of her shoulders hinting at her usual bashfulness, but determination bringing roses to her cheeks. “Don’t worry, Mr. Tremayne. We’ll help you find her. Won’t we, Moon?”

Mabena nodded and turned a bit more toward Oliver—a bit more away from Mrs. Pepper, who’d spun at the familiar surname. “Of course we will.”

Oliver’s smile was small and sad. “I appreciate that. But you’re here for a holiday, my lady. Enjoy your time. This needn’t be your concern. Wherever she is, my sister has proven she’s quite capable of taking care of herself.”

Libby’s chin edged up a bit. “I believe it was made my concern when people mistook me for your sister. It could well happen again, you know. I’m involved—let me help.”

He must have heard that underlying note in her voice as clearly as Mabena did. The one that said no one ever let her help with anything, and she craved it. Craved being useful—in something real, not just one of the dressed-up causes her mother championed that was more about parading around in a fancy hat and being seen making a difference than about actually making a difference.

Ollie, of course, was helpless against such a plea. He didn’t have it in him to deny anyone the chance to do good—at least not unless that someone’s last name was Wearne. “I will certainly welcome your assistance then, my lady. As long as it doesn’t interfere with your holiday.”

Libby’s smile was somehow both bright and sympathetic as she folded her hands before her. In that moment she looked like what her family had always begged her to be—a demure young lady capable of putting anyone at ease. “I assure you, sir. It is no inconvenience at all.”

And that, it seemed, settled it. Mabena didn’t know whether to be glad that she now had her employer’s approval for any poking about she wanted to do . . . or to resent the fact that her quest was no longer her own.

Ollie saw himself out, and Mabena went to her room to gather Beth’s clothes. With the shawl wrapped around her hands, she decided it didn’t matter how she felt about it. The only thing in the world that mattered was finding Beth.