Sir Rollin arrived at the stroke of ten the next morning. Joanna, dressed and ready for riding, drew a breath when he took her hand to greet her, remembering the conversation she had overheard the previous day. She briefly raised her large dark eyes to his, and he smiled down into them more warmly than he had ever done before. Joanna blinked and looked down again.
Her mare was brought round, and Sir Rollin lifted her into the saddle. His groom fell in behind them as they trotted down the lane in front of the house. The sun was warm, but not yet hot, and a light breeze stirred the leaves of the oak trees beside them. “A fine day,” said Denby.
“Isn’t it?” she agreed.
“And you are looking ravishing, Miss Rowntree.” The man’s hazel eyes sparkled as he surveyed her. “I must say that rose pink becomes you admirably.”
Joanna looked at him sidewise. “You didn’t say so the last time we rode together,” she ventured.
“Did I not? Yet, I’m sure I meant to. I know I thought it. Perhaps I was tongue-tied by your beauty.”
The girl puzzled over this for a moment, then dimpled. “I don’t think you ever are.”
Sir Rollin laughed. “Do you not?”
Joanna looked over at him, a little breathless. She had never before had an opportunity to flirt, and she found it very exciting. Sir Rollin, as always, looked complete to a shade. His buckskins and top boots were flawless, and his olive-green coat stretched across his wide shoulders without a wrinkle. Joanna followed the intricate folds of his neckcloth with something akin to awe. She knew from Peter’s early efforts just how hard it was to tie such a complex design. With a happy sigh, she told herself that she was flirting with a true nonpareil.
Sir Rollin’s smile broadened a little. “Shall we have a gallop?” he asked. They had by now come to some open country.
“Oh, yes,” answered Joanna. She spurred her horse, and they leapt forward. With the breeze in her face, she threw back her head and laughed. All the unsettling things that had happened in the past few weeks seemed to drop out of her mind, and she felt she hadn’t a worry in the world.
They finally pulled up two fields away. Joanna was breathing faster, her cheeks flushed nearly the color of her habit and her dark eyes shining.
“You ride very well,” said Sir Rollin as he reined in beside her. “Do you hunt?”
“A little but I don’t often get the chance. If we take the road here, we can go around by Longton.” Joanna thought of the acquaintances she might see in the village. It would be splendid to bow to them while riding beside Sir Rollin.
“No, let us go that way,” replied Sir Rollin, pointing in the opposite direction. “I haven’t ridden along this part of the road.”
Slightly disappointed, but agreeable, Joanna turned her mare. They crossed another field and entered a lane. As they rode, Sir Rollin chatted easily. He was more attentive than before, saying nothing that might make Joanna uneasy or puzzle her, and was clearly exerting his not inconsiderable charm. He talked of hunting in Leicestershire and told an amusing story of his discomfiture over a five-barred gate, then shifted to riding in Hyde Park and some of the follies committed there in the name of fashion. He soon had Joanna laughing and enthralled.
After about twenty minutes, they came out near the back boundary of the Abbey park. “Ah,” said Denby, “we are at Erland’s. I didn’t realize that this lane led here. Shall we go and see how your father’s investigations are getting on?”
Joanna frowned; she had no desire to see her father just now. “I’m not certain Papa is here today,” she said.
“Oh, yes. Look there.” Denby pointed with his riding crop to a cluster of men standing in the ruins. And before Joanna could speak again, he had started toward them. She followed perforce.
The group consisted of her father and brothers, Jonathan Erland, Templeton, and another student Joanna did not know. Her father held a bit of muddy crockery and was turning it this way and that and musing aloud. “Possibly a chalice, or a reliquary. Yes. I like the idea of a reliquary. You see this curving portion here.”
Templeton gazed at him with awe-filled eyes. “Yes, sir,” he murmured.
Gerald moved restlessly. “You know, Father,” he said, “it seems to me nothing more than glazed clay. Surely a reliquary would be more ornamented?”
“Perhaps.” Mr. Rowntree held the fragment up to the light and squinted at it.
“Dash it if it doesn’t look just like my cousin’s chamber pot,” muttered the other student.
Templeton whirled to glare at him. “Clodpole,” he began.
But Mr. Rowntree interrupted him, exclaiming, “That’s it! That’s precisely what it looks like. You have a keen eye, Carstairs. A chamber pot. Very interesting. Mark it down, Gerald. A chamber pot here in the cell. Perhaps one in each. We shall see.”
Carstairs looked nonplussed, and there was a stifled sound from Sir Rollin. But when Joanna turned to look at him, his face showed only impassive interest. As Gerald bent to a large square of parchment spread out on a piece of flagstone, Denby spoke. “Good day. Are you mapping the ruins, then?”
Mr. Rowntree started and turned. “Ah, Joanna. And, er, ah, yes. Good day. I didn’t hear you come up.”
“You are mapping the old abbey?” repeated Sir Rollin.
“Yes. Yes indeed. All of our findings will be recorded.” Rowntree indicated the paper on which Gerald had finished making a note. A large rectangle was drawn on it, and several areas had been filled in with smaller enclosures and notations. Rowntree gestured to the left. “There, you see, is the refectory. We have established that.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “It is here. Then the cloister is here, and the chapel there. We have been digging in the monk’s cells this morning.” He straightened. “One must have method in these things.”
“Indeed.” Sir Rollin was surveying the map closely. “Have you found any underground chambers, or anything of that nature?”
Joanna’s father frowned. “You mean the church crypt? No. Though that is a very useful idea. An underground chamber might remain intact, even today.” He bent to the map again. “It should be about here, I suppose, if there is a crypt.” He put a finger on the parchment. Sir Rollin watched closely. “Yes, indeed. A splendid idea. We shall try it, perhaps tomorrow. You have a quick mind, Mr. ah, yes. What do you think, Templeton?”
“By all means.”
Jonathan Erland frowned slightly. He had not looked happy since Joanna and Sir Rollin rode up, and now he eyed Denby warily.
“Perhaps I might join you?” asked Denby.
Mr. Rowntree rubbed his hands together. “Of course, of course. Whenever you like. Another head is always welcome. Why not now?”
Sir Rollin indicated Joanna. “Your daughter has kindly consented to ride with me today. I cannot abandon her so rudely.”
“I could escort Miss Rowntree home,” offered Erland, “if you wish to stay here.”
Denby smiled slightly. “Not at all. I could not give up our ride. But if I may come tomorrow?”
“Of course,” replied Mr. Rowntree. “Joanna, you might come, too. Meant to ask you; Erland was just reminding me.”
Joanna was astonished. Her father had never asked her to join in his scientific pursuits. “I?” she stammered.
Her father nodded. “You could help Gerald with the notes and drawings. You always had a very fine hand.”
This compliment reduced Joanna to gaping silence.
“Why not, Miss Rowntree?” put in Erland. “We may find something interesting, you know.”
Sir Rollin smiled. “We mustn’t bore Miss Rowntree. If she does not wish to dig…”
Joanna found her tongue. “Oh, but I do. I mean, I should love to help. I’ll come tomorrow, first thing—and I can draw the map. I’ve had hundreds of drawing lessons.” She stopped, out of breath.
Erland smiled, as did Gerald.
“Splendid,” said Mr. Rowntree. “We shall see you tomorrow then.” And he turned back to his pottery fragment, immediately forgetting that Joanna and her escort were there.
“Shall we go on?” asked Denby after a moment. Joanna started and agreed. They said their farewells and turned their horses’ heads away from the ruins. Erland watched them until they were out of sight around a bend.
“A novelty,” said Sir Rollin when they reached the lane once more. “It is fascinating. I have never encountered anything just like your father’s enterprise. Frankly, I am somewhat bored in my sister’s house. She talks of nothing but alterations and grottoes, and one cannot be out with charming companions every hour of the day.” He smiled at Joanna as he said this.
She flushed a little. “Indeed, it is a quiet neighborhood, though we have had more entertainments this summer than usual. But you must wish for Brighton and your friends.”
Sir Rollin’s mouth twisted. “I have not come to that yet,” he murmured.
Remembering what she had heard his sister say, Joanna blushed in earnest. Was Denby referring to Miss Susan Chudley? At least, he could have no idea that she understood him. But she thrilled a little to think that he did not want to go to Brighton after all.
“It’s growing hot,” said Sir Rollin then. “Shall we turn back?”
Joanna nodded, and they headed toward the lane again, riding in silence until Denby said, “Erland takes an interest in the excavations, it appears.”
She nodded again.
“I wonder why?”
Surprised, the girl considered. “Well, it is his land, after all. He will want to know what they find.”
“Indeed. And they may unearth something quite extraordinary, I suppose.”
“In that jumble?”
Sir Rollin looked at her. “One never knows.”
“Well, I doubt it. The ruins have been there for hundreds of years, and no one has found anything valuable in all that time.”
“I daresay you are right.”
Sir Rollin dropped the subject, deftly turning the conversation to lighter topics. They arrived back at Joanna’s house well before luncheon, but he refused her polite invitation to come in, saying he wished to get his horse into the stable before the heat of the day. He helped Joanna dismount and waited politely as she walked up the steps to the hall, raising a hand when she turned in the doorway. “Good-bye, Miss Rowntree. I am in your debt. A charming ride. I hope we may repeat it. And I shall see you tomorrow.”
Joanna smiled and nodded as the door was shut behind her and the man mounted his black once more. She stood with her back to the door panels for a moment, smiling dreamily. What if Sir Rollin should fall in love with her, she mused? What an extraordinary thing that would be. She was embroidering on this theme when the digging party came in, and they were all called to luncheon.
After the meal, Joanna went to the drawing room with a book, but the story did not hold her attention for long, and in a few minutes she was indulging in pleasant daydreams once again. Thus, she frowned when her brother Frederick came bouncing into the room and sat down opposite.
“Hullo, Joanna,” he said. “Do you want to go treasure hunting at the Abbey this afternoon?”
“Treasure hunting? What do you mean? The digging? I thought Papa was staying home this afternoon.”
“He is. It’s not digging. It’s something else.” Frederick looked conspiratorial.
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing!”
Joanna frowned at him. “Well, I have better things to do than crawl about the ruins with you, and…”
“I told him you would not wish to come,” interrupted her brother, with evidence of satisfaction. He started to turn away.
“Told who?”
“Mr. Erland. He said I must ask you, but I told him girls have no interest in such things.” Frederick grimaced. “The silly things you do instead of having fun.”
Joanna was frowning. “Mr. Erland wanted me to come?”
Her brother considered, his round face wrinkling. “Well, I don’t know that. He was being polite, I guess, since you were there when we found the letter.”
“But he did ask you to come? This is not some scheme of your own to look through his house again?”
Frederick looked indignant. “Of course, he asked me. You heard me promise Mama that I would not go there again without an invitation. What do you think me?”
Joanna hastily begged pardon. “And so you are really going to look for a treasure?” she added. “Mr. Erland thinks there is one?”
Her brother shook his head wearily. “What have I been telling you? Girls! They never understand anything.” He raised a hand and spoke with exaggerated simplicity. “Mr. Erland asked me back today to search for the treasure. So he must believe there is one. I’m going. He said I should see if you wished to come along.”
“You know, I think I will,” said Joanna, ignoring his tone. As she thought again of finding that letter, she became rather intrigued.
Frederick seemed surprised and not wholly pleased. “We shall probably be crawling about in the attics and basements,” he warned. “It will be dusty, and I daresay there may be spiders.”
His sister smiled. “Then I must change my dress, mustn’t I?”
Defeated, Frederick turned toward the stairs. “I mean to leave right away,” he said over his shoulder. “And I shan’t wait for you. Father said I could use the gig.”
Startled, Joanna said, “Did you tell Father about the treasure?”
The boy made a rude noise. “Do you take me for a nodcock? Besides, we promised not to tell, remember? Though I daresay you have. Girls are such tattleboxes. And if you have told Selina Grant, the whole neighborhood will know it within a day.”
“I have told no one,” replied Joanna with cold dignity. She picked up her skirts and started toward the stairs. “I shall be ready in five minutes.”
Unimpressed, Frederick retorted, “See that you are.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled out, whistling.
They pulled up before the Abbey at two, in the midst of an argument over Frederick’s handling of the ribbons. Joanna insisted that he went too fast and had nearly overturned them at the gate. Her brother was as certain that it had been no such thing. He believed himself to be a top sawyer.
They were still disputing the fact when Jonathan Erland came out of the front door to greet them, and the man smiled as he put up a hand to help Joanna down. Seeing this, the girl snapped, “I daresay it seems funny to you, but we were nearly tumbled out at the turn. We might have been hurt or killed all because of Frederick’s care-for-nobody driving.”
“Pooh,” said Frederick.
Joanna tossed back her somewhat disheveled curls and walked into the house haughtily.
Erland suppressed another smile as Frederick jumped down. A groom came around the corner of the house and took charge of the gig, and they followed Joanna into the house.
“Come into the library,” said Erland when they joined her. “I want to show you something.”
They found the library in some disarray. Books had been taken down and replaced carelessly, or not at all. The desk was nearly covered with piles of dusty old volumes. “Sit over here,” suggested the host, directing them to chairs near the window and the afternoon sunshine.
When they were seated, he pulled out his uncle’s letter once more. “I have been thinking about this,” he said, addressing himself chiefly to Joanna. “At first, I thought it must be some sort of joke, but the more I considered my uncle and the kind of man he was, the more I became convinced that it could be true. It is just the sort of mad scheme that would have amused him.”
Thinking of old Mr. Erland, Joanna nodded.
“Well, and so I began to wonder what to do. I thought of showing this to the lawyers and perhaps hiring some workmen to search, but that does not seem right. There may be nothing to find after all, and I would look quite a fool in that case.” He smiled.
“We don’t want a lot of strangers pushing in anyway,” said Frederick. “Ten-to-one, if the treasure were found, one of them would make off with it.”
“There is also that possibility,” agreed Erland, though his smile broadened. “Then I remembered the wording of the letter. My uncle said that if I remembered the traditions of the family, I would find his fortune. That brought me to this.” He gestured toward the piles of books. “I have gone through the library. These are the books having to do with the family and their history. Unfortunately, I am not familiar with them. It was never thought necessary. I was to make my way in Canada, and Maurice was to inherit.”
“There are so many,” exclaimed Joanna, somewhat daunted by the heavy musty tomes.
“There are indeed,” said Erland wryly. “And most of them as dry as they look, I fear. That is why I have asked for your help.”
She raised startled eyes to his face.
“I thought you and Frederick might help me go through them. I don’t want word of this to spread, but since you know already, I thought you might be willing to help me.” His gray eyes held Joanna’s dark ones.
“You may be sure we will,” cried Frederick. He jumped up and went to the desk, picking up a huge old leather-bound volume and taking it to a chair. “Let us waste no time.” He opened the book energetically and a cloud of dust puffed out; he began to cough as it settled over his face and coat.
Joanna and Erland laughed. “Will you help me?” said the man, looking at Joanna once more.
“Yes,” she replied, getting up in her turn. “I should like it above all things.”
Two hours later, all three of them were very dusty and discouraged. Each sat in a straight chair, surrounded by a small pile of books. Erland had paused to wipe his brow with a kerchief, grimacing when it came away black. Joanna was looking frowningly over a small volume full of cramped handwriting. Frederick dropped another disgustedly. “Another book of recipes,” he exclaimed. “That makes six! Did these old Erlands think. of nothing but food? And some of them are beastly.” He picked up the book again. “Here, boiled garlic; would you eat that? I promise you I shouldn’t.”
“Well, I have another account book,” said Joanna. “One of your ancestors kept careful records when he made the grand tour,” she told Erland. “It is interesting, really. Here is the list of monies spent in Paris. What can this mean I wonder? ‘Spent fifty guineas at Mrs. Lavalle’s House on Monday and Friday.’ It can’t be a boarding house; that’s much too expensive.”
Erland raised his eyebrows and held out a hand. “Let me see.”
“Oh, who cares for that,” said Frederick, uninterested. “It can’t be the clue.” He surveyed the piles of books dejectedly. “We shall never find it among all these.”
Erland closed the small volume and laid it aside behind him. “Don’t be discouraged. We have eliminated those after all.” He gestured toward a large pile in the corner. “But it is clear that we won’t do it all in one day. I suggest we abandon the task for now and call for some tea, or perhaps some lemonade. It’s hot.”
Joanna agreed.
“You aren’t giving up?” cried Frederick.
“Only temporarily.”
“It is too bad. All this work and nothing to show.” Frederick got up and went over to the desk. “I have never seen a duller collection of books.” He gave the tallest pile a disgusted shove, and it slowly began to tumble over.
“Frederick!” cried Joanna.
“I didn’t mean to knock them off,” retorted her brother, as the ancient volumes hit heavily one by one. The last, a thick tome, fell end on, and the cracked leather back gave way entirely, splitting the book down the spine.
“Oh dear,” said Joanna, running to pick it up.
“You’ve ruined it.” She tried to fit the halves together again, without success, but as she lifted one of the sides, three thick parchments fell out and floated to the floor. “Oh,” she continued, “the pages are coming loose.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Erland, retrieving one and bringing it to her. As he held it out, however, he paused. “This paper doesn’t look the same,” he said. He compared them more closely. “No, these aren’t pages of that book.” He opened the parchment. “It’s a chart of some kind.”
“Let me see,” cried Frederick. He pushed under Erland’s elbow to look at the paper. “It looks like a plan of the house.”
“I think it is.” Erland went to pick up the other two sheets. “And this one is the grounds. The third is odd, it looks older.” He raised his eyes. “We may have found something here.”
“Hooray!” said Frederick. “I found the clue.”
Erland smiled. “You do seem to have a definite talent for treasure hunting,” he agreed.
“Let’s see it.”
But the man folded the papers again and turned away. “Later we will examine them in detail. Now, I think we need a wash and a rest. Let us see if we can persuade Mrs. Smith to make lemonade. Come, lend your argumentative powers to mine.”
After much protest, Frederick agreed. And Joanna was very glad after she caught a glimpse of herself in the dark mirror in the corner. “Oh my,” she said. There was a smudge of dust on her nose, and several down her primrose muslin gown. Her curls were still tumbled from the drive over, and her hands were filthy.
“Yes, I think we could all do with a wash. I shall send Mrs. Smith to show you the way. Come along, Frederick.”
Grumbling, the boy followed him down the corridor.
Later, in somewhat better frame, the three of them pored over the charts. But Joanna could make nothing of the crisscrossing lines and many crabbed notations along them. Frederick’s frown made it clear that he saw little more.
“I think these may require long study,” said Erland finally, “before they yield any important facts.”
“Dull stuff,” replied Frederick. “Let us search the house instead.”
The man smiled. “We may do so in time. But I should like to look over these first. It might be a great help.”
Frederick made a face.
“As I see it,” continued Erland with a laugh, “the treasure, if there is indeed such a thing, must be either in the house or in the ruins. There is no place else connected with family traditions.” He gestured. “Unless my family had a lamentable habit of burying things in the lawns.”
Joanna laughed. “Surely not.”
“As you say. So, I wish to go over these plans looking for possible hiding places.”
“That will take forever,” complained Frederick.
“It will take some time at any rate. I’m sorry.”
Frederick subsided into morose silence, while Joanna and Erland smiled at one another over his head. “You will find it,” she said.
“Your confidence encourages me.” His eyes were warm.
As they drove home, later that afternoon, Joanna was thoughtful. Her brother chattered on and on about the treasure, what a fine chap Erland was for letting them help look for it, and what he meant to do with the share that Erland would surely give him. Joanna listened with half an ear. She was thinking about Erland also, but not in the same terms. She was considering how likeable he was in spite of his lack of polish and the airs and graces she had always thought indispensable in a man. She contrasted him in her mind with Sir Rollin Denby, whom she had seen this same day. It was really much easier to talk to Mr. Erland, and more fun, too. He did not make her feel terribly young and blundering, nor did he laugh at her.
Instead, they had laughed together several times this afternoon, over some of the absurdities in the old books. Joanna was beginning to wonder if there had not been more in what Constance had said than she had realized at the time. Not that Mr. Erland would ever outshine Sir Rollin, she added to herself. The latter would always be the more exciting and dazzling companion. But their new neighbor might turn out to be an easier friend, more like a brother perhaps. Joanna wrinkled her nose. Yet another brother!
When they got home at five, the family was having tea in the drawing room and Frederick and Joanna joined them. Their mother looked surprised when she heard where they had been, and she frowned at their disheveled appearance, but she made no objection. Mr. Rowntree was engrossed in telling his wife of the morning’s digging. Gerald was preparing to ride back to Oxford, and Joanna was amazed when he stopped to sit beside her before he went out.
“I wanted to speak with you, Joanna,” he said.
She looked at him; here was a new start.
Gerald looked at his hands. “It is rather awkward—I don’t know quite how to begin.”
Joanna frowned, still more amazed. Then, a thought came to her. Did Gerald want to talk of Constance?
But he blurted, “It is that man Denby.”
“Sir Rollin?”
Gerald nodded, looking down again. “The thing is, Joanna, one of the fellows with us this morning lives in London and knows of Denby. It appears, that is, it is pretty well known that he is, a, well, an ugly customer.”
Joanna’s surprise and amusement at seeing her self-absorbed brother grope for words gave way to a spark of resentment. “And so?” she replied.
“Dash it, Joanna, you must see what I’m driving at. I’m trying to drop a word in your ear, a warning, you know. Denby’s just not, well, the sort of man you should go about with.”
“Do you mean he is a rake?” said Joanna baldly, hoping to shock him into silence. What right had Gerald, who had practically ignored her for years, to dictate whom she should see?
But Gerald looked relieved. “That’s it. Carstairs says it’s well known. Mothers keep their girls away from him. He’s been involved in all sorts of havey-cavey turn-ups. Seems to care for nothing and nobody, including himself.”
With a small smile, Joanna permitted herself to wonder if this were still true. “You’re telling me to stay away from him?” she asked belligerently.
“Oh, I haven’t any right to do that,” said her brother hastily. He seemed quite embarrassed by his unaccustomed venture into her affairs. “But Papa won’t notice, you know, and Mother may not have heard about him, so I thought I’d just speak to you. You’re a sensible little puss when you want to be, Joanna. You’ll know what to do.”
Though she was still angry with him for his interference, such praise from Gerald silenced Joanna. “Th-thank you,” she murmured at last.
“Right.” He stood. “I’ve got to go.” He took his leave of the family and strode out, already forgetting Sir Rollin and Joanna.
The girl sat still for several minutes. She had no intention of paying any heed to Gerald’s strictures, but she was amazed that he had bothered to make them. And Gerald, Gerald had called her a sensible little puss! Where would it end?