The two weeks before Jonathan Erland’s party passed fairly quickly for Joanna. Between placating Selina and furthering her acquaintance with Constance Williston, she was kept fully occupied; the long warm July days were filled with walks, teas, and long confidential talks. She also saw a good deal of Erland himself, and was thus able to keep up with every fresh development in his scheme. They went riding again, without Sir Rollin this time, and she was liable to find him about the house at any moment, either summoned by her father to discuss his plan for the digging, or searching for her mother to ask advice about some domestic crisis. In the course of time, they evolved an easy, friendly relationship.
Of the Finley party, they saw little. Joanna did encounter Sir Rollin as she walked home from Selina’s one afternoon. He was riding his black horse across the fields and stopped to greet her briefly. But he seemed put out by something and soon rode on. The Finleys themselves remained at home, totally engrossed, so rumor had it, in renovations. When the neighborhood talk was not of the coming entertainment at Erland Abbey, from which no invitations had issued for years, it was of the amazing changes taking place at the Finley residence. Adrienne’s search for a hermit had begun, with disastrous consequences when old Mr. Jenkins was approached, and the small circle of society thereabouts was getting no end of enjoyment from observing her setbacks. Georgiana Grant insisted that it was as good as a play. Everyone looked forward to seeing Adrienne at the picnic, and perhaps picking up a bit more knowledge of her plans.
The day Erland had chosen dawned cool and clear. The guests were invited for two, and by a quarter past the hour, the Rowntree party was in the carriage and riding along toward the Abbey. Mr. Rowntree looked impatient; only the promise that he might wander in the ruins and plan the next step of his project had lured him out of his study. His wife sat beside him in the chaise, murmuring calming replies to his complaints and smiling at her two oldest children who sat across. Joanna, fresh and pretty in crisp white muslin with blue ribbons and a straw hat, smiled back. And she gave her older brother a sidewise glance to see if he shared the joke. Paying no attention, of course, he had chin in hand, staring out the window. With a small shake of her head, Joanna turned to look out the other side. She would never understand Gerald, whom she had fully expected to refuse to come to this picnic, but had shown no signs of that. In fact, he had been visiting them far more often than usual this summer, and she was wondering whether he had finally become bored with his studying.
When they turned in through the Abbey gates and started down the avenue, Joanna leaned out to see who was before them. She saw at once that someone had been trimming the trees beside the lane, and the park looked tidier than it had in previous years. She saw the Townsend family alighting from their carriage in front of the house, and there was another vehicle just driving around to the stables. So they were not the first.
Jonathan Erland was there to greet them when they pulled up before the front door. He handed her mother down first, then Joanna. As the men followed, he gestured toward the door. “It’s easiest to walk through the hall, I think,” he said.
They stepped inside. Here, changes were less evident. The long corridor that went from the door to the library in the rear of the house was perhaps a little cleaner, and when they reached the library itself, Joanna thought it seemed cozier and more lived-in than before. But the Abbey remained a dark gloomy house, filled with worn outmoded furnishings and an overabundance of dust.
When they stepped through the French doors at the back of the house, and onto the terrace, however, this impression disappeared. Joanna could not restrain a pleased exclamation. The flagged terrace had been set up for luncheon, with small tables here and there and the wide stone balustrade serving as buffet. Several young people from the village stood waiting to serve. From the chairs, there was a fine view of the old abbey’s ruins, which spread down a slight incline behind the house.
To the left, an area had been set up for archery and other games, and to the right, by the ornamental pool, an awning had been erected for those who found the sun too hot. The shabbiness of the flower beds, the broken fountain, and even the slight musty smell emanating from the house behind were overshadowed by these amenities.
Joanna turned to find Erland smiling down at her. “You approve?” he asked.
“Oh, yes indeed. I never imagined it could look so fine.”
He looked around them. “Well, it may not be fine, but it’s certainly a vast improvement.” Hearing another carriage approaching the door, he added, “Excuse me,” and walked back into the house.
Joanna started off to look at everything. The tables had obviously been gathered from various corners of the house, but Erland had had them covered with white linen and decorated with small bunches of flowers. There were a few scattered chairs under the awning, which was pleasantly cool. She was just peering into the pond, trying to see to the bottom through the murky water, when Selina hurried to join her.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she exclaimed, excitement blazing in her pale blue eyes. Selina had been in raptures ever since her mother had given in to her pleas to be allowed to come to this party. “Isn’t everything perfect? Did you see the cunning targets? And the loo counters? I can hardly believe I am here!”
Smiling, Joanna agreed and the two girls walked around the area again, so that Selina might see everything close up, then went back to the terrace, where the host was beginning to marshal the group for lunch. The Willistons had arrived, as had several young men from Oxford and three other neighborhood families. Only the Finleys had not come, but sounds from the hall indicated that they were even now here, so Erland was placing his guests about the tables.
Joanna found herself sitting with Jack Townsend, Constance, and Gerald, hardly the table she would have chosen. As he seated her, Erland apologized softly. “I would have put you at my own table but I must be polite to the older ladies. Will you take a stroll with me later?”
“When you have put me beside my odious brother?” she asked playfully. “I don’t think I will.”
He laughed. “No, no, you mustn’t hold it against me. Recall my total inexperience at this sort of thing.”
“Well, I shall see.”
He smiled and turned away.
Luncheon was good. There was cold meat and cheese, accompanied by fresh bread and butter and an assortment of pickles and relishes. Tall glasses of lemonade and mugs of ale were offered to the ladies and gentlemen, and for dessert, they were served luscious freshly sliced peaches, floating in sweet juice, and cakes of all kinds. Erland received a great many compliments on his choices, to which he responded with easy good humor.
Joanna enjoyed the meal, but not the conversation that accompanied it. Jack Townsend prosed on nearly the entire time about a horse he had bought and Gerald explained some boring poem to Constance, who persisted in looking enthralled until Joanna felt quite out of charity with her. She was very glad when dessert came and she could look forward to getting up and talking to someone else. She had just finished her peaches when a sharp exclamation behind her made her turn.
Selina was standing up, brushing futilely with her napkin at a large sticky stain on the front of her pink gown. “Oh dear! Oh dear!” she was crying helplessly.
Mrs. Grant got up and went to her.
“I’ve spilled it; I’ve spilled it all over my new dress,” said Selina to her mother, and the girl burst into tears.
Mrs. Grant put an arm around her shoulders and led Selina toward the house. Joanna flushed a little, in sympathy for her friend, especially when she noticed Sir Rollin Denby exchange a smile with his sister. “Oh, poor Selina,” she heard Constance say.
Wondering whether she should go and try to help clean the dress, Joanna rose uncertainly. Perhaps Selina would rather be left with her mother? Before she could decide, Sir Rollin came up to her.
“Are you also finished, Miss Rowntree?” he asked. “The young lady’s contretemps seems to have officially ended luncheon. Would you care to stroll a little? You can explain all of this to me, I’m sure.” He waved a hand to indicate the park.
“I—I was just going to Selina,” murmured Joanna, remembering his mocking smile and resenting it for her friend’s sake.
“I am sure she would rather you didn’t,” replied the man smoothly. “One doesn’t care for an audience at such moments, you know.”
“Well…”
“Really.” He offered his arm. Joanna did not know what else to do but take it, so she did, and they walked down the three shallow steps that separated the terrace from the lawn.
“This place is certainly in need of extensive repairs,” said Sir Rollin when they had passed the broken fountain and some untidy flower beds. “These gardens haven’t been properly tended in years.”
Joanna nodded. “Mr. Thomas Erland neglected everything.”
“Adrienne is in ecstasies.” He turned to look behind them and saw his sister talking animatedly to Jonathan Erland, one hand resting on his arm as she made a point. “I daresay, she is telling poor Erland what should be done to set his place to rights, all according to Repton and the latest fashion, of course.”
His mocking tone was so obvious that Joanna did not know quite how to answer. “Your sister is making a great many alterations in her new home,” she said finally.
Sir Rollin threw back his head and laughed heartily. “A decided understatement, Miss Rowntree. My sister has gone completely mad on the subject. There is no innovation so bizarre but she must have it. If it were not for the noise and inconvenience of having workmen about the house, I should be tolerably well amused here by Adrienne’s freaks.”
There was a short pause as Joanna searched for a suitable reply. “I suppose our small neighborhood must seem very dull to you after London,” she ventured at last.
“You suppose correctly.” Sir Rollin laughed again, harshly. “You should count yourself lucky, Miss Rowntree, to have traveled so little. It allows you to be content.” Deep lines appeared beside his mouth, and looking up at him, Joanna felt almost frightened for a moment. Then, he laughed again. “But where are my manners?” he said mockingly. “I believe I should have said that any neighborhood containing such charming company could not be dull. What is that, Miss Rowntree?”
Following his pointing finger, Joanna replied with some relief, “The old cloister.” She was confused by the man’s manner. But for the rest of their walk, he continued to ask unexceptionable questions about the ruins around them, and she gradually began to feel more at ease.
At one point, they came upon her father and a group of the other guests, standing beside a freshly dug hole. “You can see here the base of the wall,” her father was saying. “The foundations are of stone, and there are three crosses carved here.” He traced them with his hand. Joanna saw that his coat was mussed and one sleeve muddied. She flushed.
“Instructive,” murmured Sir Rollin as he guided her away from the group. “Such dedication.”
Her flush deepened.
When they reached the terrace once more, Selina had returned, and Joanna went over to commiserate with her over her accident. Selina was extremely embarrassed and much subdued, and seemed determined to stay beside her mother for the rest of the afternoon. Joanna sat with them for a while, then went to speak to some of the other guests.
As she walked across the terrace, Joanna saw Constance strolling on Gerald’s arm, and she smiled. They were so engrossed in talk that she did not believe they were conscious of anyone else. Her mother sat under the awning with the older ladies. Sir Rollin had joined Jack Townsend, the Finleys, and the rest of the young people at the other end of the terrace, and after some hesitation, Joanna started toward them. Jonathan Erland was urging them all to try a round of archery.
He had persuaded Jack, who was seconding his efforts manfully. But none of the others seemed inclined to agree. Adrienne was saying, “Oh, Mr. Erland, you must excuse me, I fear. I have no skill at games.”
But her brother said, “My dear Adrienne, how can you say so? You know that you are a deadly marksman.” He smiled sardonically as she glared at him.
“Splendid,” cried Jack Townsend. “You must lead off, ma’am, though I daresay, Sophie can give you a good match.” Sophie blushed prettily as he continued, “Come, I will back her against you.”
“Ah, a wager,” murmured Sir Rollin.
“Come along,” said Jack again, and he began shepherding the unenthusiastic group toward the targets set up below.
Joanna lingered for a moment, watching them descend the steps and start to examine the archery equipment.
“You don’t care for the sport?” asked Jonathan Erland behind her.
Joanna shrugged. “It is not so much that—”
“As it is the company,” he finished for her. “I understand your view.” He looked down at the others with a grimace. “I should have left them all to their own devices; but I suppose I really must continue to play the host.” He started to move away. “You needn’t come if you don’t like it.”
“Oh, well,” began Joanna, but she was interrupted by a crash from the house behind. “Good heavens, what was that?” she exclaimed.
“I don’t know.” Erland started for the French door that led into the library. Joanna followed, curious. None of the other guests appeared to have heard the noise.
When she stepped into the room, Joanna was astonished to see her brother Frederick standing beside the desk, ruefully eyeing a large book, which had obviously fallen to the floor a moment before. “Frederick, whatever are you doing here?” cried the girl. “You were not invited.”
“Pooh,” retorted Frederick. He looked both defiant and embarrassed.
Joanna noticed that several of the desk drawers had been pulled out and the top looked very untidy. “What have you been doing?” she said again, horrified.
“Nothing,” answered Frederick unconvincingly. He crumpled a paper he held in his hand. “I didn’t see why everyone should be asked but me. I came over to see the fun. But I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He turned as if to go to the door, but as he moved, he caught a foot on the fallen book and fell headlong onto the carpet. The paper he had been clutching floated away and landed before Joanna.
She stooped quickly and picked it up.
“Are you all right?” asked Erland, going to the boy and helping him into the desk chair.
“Yes,” said Frederick sullenly. He put his chin on his hand and sighed disgustedly. “If only I hadn’t been so stupid as to knock over that book,” he murmured.
“What’s this?” exclaimed Erland, bending over the desk. “I believe there’s a secret drawer.”
Frederick sighed again. “The panel turns by a spring.” He looked down, shook his head with annoyance, and began to kick the leg of the desk.
Joanna made a sharp sound, and Erland turned to look at her. “This is yours,” she said, holding out the paper. “It is from your uncle.”
As the man walked toward her to take it, Frederick burst out, “It isn’t fair. I found it! Why should I have to give it up? He never looked for it.”
“Oh, do be quiet, Frederick,” said Joanna sharply. “In a moment, I shall call Mama, and we will see what she has to say about your being here.” She turned her eyes back to Erland, who was reading and looking more and more astonished. He finished and met Joanna’s eyes, shaking his head.
“This is incredible,” he said.
Joanna nodded. She had read it, too.
“Well, I think the treasure should be half mine,” put in Frederick. “I found the clue, after all.” Joanna glared at him, and he subsided.
Erland was still bemused. “It is my uncle’s hand,” he said, staring at the paper. “I can’t deny that, but surely it is some sort of joke. He cannot have meant this.”
“He was a queer old man,” ventured Joanna.
Erland frowned. “Yes, but to leave his fortune, if there is indeed such a thing, in this way?” He looked down again and read the letter aloud:
So, nephew, you have found this letter at last? I wonder how long it took you to find the drawer? Are you still a young man? Or old as I am now? That would be amusing. I should like to see it. But I shan’t, of course.
You know I have always encouraged enterprise in you. A man should be able to make his own way in the world without the help of his elders. I did. You’ve done well enough for yourself, and I don’t mind leaving the Abbey to you. You’ll do better than that worthless son of mine would have. But I leave you one last test. You’ll have the place, but not the money, unless you can find it for yourself. It’s here; make no mistake. More than you ever imagined, I fancy. But I’ll not make it too easy. If you remember your family traditions, you will find it. Otherwise, let it stay where it is until someone does.
Erland blinked. “Can he have been mad?”
“Doubtless,” replied a voice from the door, and all of them whirled to discover Sir Rollin Denby on the threshold. “I beg your pardon,” he added. “I find archery insufferable.”
There was a silence.
Finally, Frederick burst out, “What does it mean, ‘traditions’? Do you know?” He leaned forward eagerly.
But Erland shook his head. “I haven’t the least idea.” He frowned. “In fact, I am convinced this must be rubbish, my uncle’s idea of a joke.”
“Well, he was a great miser,” said Joanna uncertainly.
Erland’s frown deepened as he tapped the letter with one finger.
“And a fortune is worth some hunting,” added Sir Rollin meditatively. They all turned to look at him again. “Ah, if you will excuse me; I fear I intrude.” He bowed slightly and left the room.
Erland watched him walk across the lawn.
“What are you going to do?” questioned Frederick.
“I haven’t the least notion,” answered Erland. “Nothing, I suppose.”
Frederick snorted. “Well, if that’s not the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You must search for it. Don’t you want a treasure? I’ll help you.”
The man’s eyes rested on Joanna for a moment; she was frowning at her brother. “Oh, I should like a fortune,” he said, “very much.”
“Well, then, we must look for it.” Frederick got up and walked over to Erland. He peered at the document again. “Have you some famous family traditions?”
“What?” Erland looked down at the top of Frederick’s head. “Traditions?” He considered. “I can think of none.”
“But there must be something. Why would he have said it?”
The man nodded. “Yes—that is true. My uncle was not given to idle remarks. Perhaps it does mean something.”
“Well, of course it does,” exclaimed the boy contemptuously.
“I must think about it.” Jonathan’s eyes began to twinkle.
“I dare swear you should and I’ll help you.” Frederick scanned the shelves above them. “Some of these musty old books might help.”
“Frederick, you will come with me to Mama this minute,” interrupted Joanna, outraged at her brother’s nonchalance after his inexcusable behavior. “That is, after you apologize to Mr. Erland for breaking into his desk.”
Her brother gaped at her. “Apologize for finding the clue to the treasure? Don’t be a ninny, Joanna.”
Erland laughed. “He has a point.”
“How can you encourage him?”
He spread his hands. “It appears I need the help.”
“Capital!” cried Frederick.
“But, you know,” the man added, “I think that the fewer people who know of this the better. It is a great pity that Sir Rollin happened to come in. I shall ask him to keep it quiet.” He did not look particularly happy about this prospect. “And if you do not mind, I shall ask the same of both of you.”
“I shan’t tell,” replied Frederick stoutly, “word of honor. But Joanna will. Girls always gab.”
Joanna put her hands on her hips. “Do they indeed? Well, I can keep a secret as well as anyone, but that will not stop me from taking you to Mama.” And with this, she grasped her brother’s arm above the elbow and hustled him out onto the terrace. His protests could be heard for some time.
Erland remained in the library for several minutes, deep in thought. When he finally returned to his guests, he scanned the scene carefully, not entirely surprised to see that Sir Rollin Denby had joined the group listening to Mr. Rowntree expound.