Joanna woke the next morning with a headache. She had tossed and turned for hours before she slept, thinking of her mistakes with Sir Rollin Denby and accusing herself of foolishness over and over again. As the hours passed, she became more and more ashamed, and by the time she finally fell asleep, she was wondering how she could ever face Jonathan Erland again, with this new knowledge.
She rose slowly and pulled on a dressing gown. Though she had fallen into bed very late, it was not yet eight. A glimpse of her face in the mirror made her groan: she looked heavy-eyed and tired, her dark curls limp.
“Enough self-pity,” she told her reflection firmly. “If you have been a fool, that is no reason to continue to be one.”
She washed vigorously and brushed her hair until her eyes watered. This in itself made her feel better, and she put on a delicate pink muslin gown that lent color to her cheeks. Determined to seem cheerful, she almost ran downstairs, causing her mother to look up in surprise as she erupted into the breakfast room and plopped into her chair.
“Good morning, Joanna,” said Mrs. Rowntree.
“Good morning, Mama. It is a lovely day.”
It was indeed, sunny for the first time in a week. “It is,” agreed the older woman. “What has put you in such spirits?”
“Why…why, today we discover the secret of the ruins,” answered the girl, adding pointedly, “don’t we, Frederick?”
Her brother, opposite her, and doing full justice to a large plate of bacon and eggs, choked, mumbling something through a mouthful of food. Joanna smiled sweetly at him and poured herself a cup of tea. For his part, he avoided her eye and said nothing at all.
Her father came in a few moments later. “Good morning, all,” he said as he sat down. “Today is our great day, is it not? We shall open the crypt this morning. And we have fine weather for it, too.”
When the gig was brought around a bit later, there was no sign of Frederick, so Joanna and her father rode over to the Abbey alone. Gerald was to come straight from Oxford. Joanna said little; her mind was too busy. Besides, Mr. Rowntree was never a great conversationalist.
They arrived in good time, and Jonathan Erland came out of the house to greet them. As he handed Joanna down from the gig, he said, “I must speak to you.” The look in his eyes made her tremble. She wished desperately to tell him how she felt.
But Mr. Rowntree would brook no delay in their work, and he insisted that they all go out to the ruins at once. With a shrug and a rueful smile, Erland gave in. “Afterward,” he told Joanna.
The state of their working place upset Mr. Rowntree acutely. At first, he thought that Erland had stolen a march on him and entered the crypt first, but when he was told that it had in fact been their thief, he demanded the rest of the tale.
Erland obligingly told it, leaving Joanna and Frederick out of last night’s events.
“Ha,” said Mr. Rowntree when he paused, “and so the fellow is laid by the heels? Serves him right, too. Pretending to be interested in our excavations.”
Erland smiled a little, but he shook his head. “I fear not, sir. I had men posted, but he rode like the devil himself and got away from them.”
“Got away!” exclaimed Joanna involuntarily.
“Outrageous,” agreed her father. “Send after him.”
“They gave chase, but I fear they failed once more.”
“Incompetence,” snorted Rowntree. “The world is being overrun with it these days.”
“Yes, sir.” Erland grinned at Joanna.
“Don’t you care?” she whispered. “He tried to take everything.”
The man shrugged. “Well, he got nothing, and I didn’t really relish the idea of putting him in prison.”
“Come along, come along,” said her father. He had relented a little after hearing Erland’s story. He still seemed to take the moving of the stone as a personal affront, but he no longer blamed anyone present. And when he realized that they could now descend directly into the crypt, without further efforts, he became almost cheerful.
A lantern was fetched, and Mr. Rowntree disappeared below the pavement. Erland was approaching Joanna purposefully when the Oxford party arrived—Gerald, Templeton, and Carstairs—and the story of last night’s adventure had to be repeated yet again. When they had marveled sufficiently, the young men found another lantern and joined the explorations. Joanna heard her father call out, “There are inscriptions here, and a funeral plaque.”
“Coming, sir,” cried Templeton, tripping and nearly pitching headlong into the opening.
The others helped him down, but before they could advance far into the crypt, Mr. Rowntree shouted again, angrily, “Here, who is that? Who is there?”
“What is it?” called Gerald.
“There is someone else down here. Perhaps one of those blackguards from last night,” replied his father.
There was a great clattering and confused shouting below as Joanna and Erland looked at one another. “What can it be?” said the girl.
“I don’t know. Unless…ah, yes.”
“What?”
He started to reply, but was interrupted by another voice at their feet, crying, “No, Papa. Papa, it is I. Frederick. Don’t!”
The confusion intensified. “Frederick!” exclaimed Joanna.
Erland smiled. “Yes, I just remembered. He came over early this morning and disappeared into his secret passage.”
“Come, Father,” they heard Frederick say then, “I will show you where the passage connects with the crypt. Mr. Erland thinks his family hid Jacobites here.”
“He does, does he?” replied Mr. Rowntree. “Well, we shall see about that. This is all very slipshod.”
The noise below lessened. Joanna and Erland smiled at one another.
“They will be occupied for some time,” he said close to her ear. “Come in.” Nervously, Joanna followed him toward the house. They walked together into the library, and he offered her a chair. She took it, folded her hands, and looked at the floor.
Erland cleared his throat. “Ah, last night,” he began. But before he could go on, someone called from the hall.
“Hello, is anyone here?”
Joanna blinked. “That sounds like Peter,” she said, amazed.
It was. In the next instant, Peter Finley looked around the corner of the door and came in, leading his wife. “There you are, Erland,” he said. “We have been looking for you.”
“Well, you have found me,” said the other, with some asperity. Joanna looked at Adrienne Finley. Did she know about her brother’s outrageous conduct? The other woman’s expression was so stricken, Joanna thought she must. But what was she doing here in that case?
“I’ve brought Adrienne to apologize to you,” said Peter briskly. “There was no stopping Denby, of course. The man is mad, I think. But he’s fled to the Continent. He won’t bother you again.”
Joanna stared. This was a new Peter. She had never seen him so grim.
“You know?” asked Erland.
Peter nodded. “Denby’s accomplice told everything when it became clear that there were no spoils from the night’s efforts. He was quite bitter.” He smiled thinly. “As was my brother-in-law, I fear. You were very clever, Erland, whatever you did.” He took a breath. “At any rate, we are both here to make our apologies to you for this incredible invasion. Aren’t we Adrienne?”
The woman nodded brokenly. “Yes.”
“But it has nothing to do with you,” replied their host.
“We brought the man here, and he is a member of my wife’s family. That is responsibility enough. I take it no damage was done?”
“None.”
“Good. Well, that is that, then. You will let me know if there is anything I can do. Perhaps you think I should have held Denby for the authorities, but I couldn’t. He was berserk. And now, he is gone.”
Erland shrugged. “I don’t look for vengeance.”
Peter nodded once, then turned to go. “Come, Adrienne.”
His wife followed him meekly out of the room. The other couple stood mute until they heard the front door close behind them.
“Well,” said Joanna, stunned.
Erland smiled. “Quite a change. Mr. Finley has gotten from under the cat’s foot forever, I should say.”
“It is so strange.”
He nodded, then came toward her. “But we have something else to talk about, something more important.” He took her hand. Joanna looked down. “Do you remember what I said to you last night?”
She nodded, still looking at the ground, then blurted out, “I don’t deserve your regard, however. I have been so foolish.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sir Rollin,” choked the girl. “I thought he cared for me, but he was only using me to find out about your fortune. And I told him. He nearly got your money, and I…” She choked again. “I am so ashamed.”
“You?” He sounded so outraged that she looked up. “You are ashamed? Nonsense. Only one person in this affair has done anything to be ashamed of, and that is Sir Rollin himself.”
“But I was completely taken in, and I told him…”
“You were young, and a blackguard took advantage of your inexperience; that is all. And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me, Joanna?”
“Yes, but…”
“Nothing.”
He was so positive that she could not argue, though when she remembered Sir Rollin’s kiss, she was still uneasy. But the warmth of his feelings and the relief that he did not blame her were too great. She felt as if some great burden had been lifted from her shoulders and smiled tremulously up at him.
“That’s better. Now then, my fortune is assured, Joanna. I shall be able to renovate the Abbey and live in high style. Will you come and help me? Will you be my wife?”
She laughed shakily. “Well, now that you are rich, of course I will.”
“Vixen.”
“Well, what else can I say when you propose in such a way? How I wish you had asked me before, so that there could be no question of money.”
“I could not ask you when I was practically penniless. I am not such a cad.” He smiled. “Though I nearly did, didn’t I? You were irresistible.” He looked at her. “You know, I have none of what they call ‘town bronze,’ Joanna. I daresay I never shall.”
Thinking of all that had happened, Joanna blushed fiercely. “I could not bear it if you did. I have seen what it is worth, and I am over my foolishness. I did not see what was really important until now.”
“What?” he teased. “But I took your strictures so to heart. I meant to have a season next year, when you go to London, and to put all my efforts toward becoming a town beau.” His eyes twinkled. “With padded coats and collars so high I cannot turn my head.”
“No, no,” cried Joanna. “You must not change a whit.”
“No? Would you not be happier if I were a fashionable suitor?”
“Never! I love you dearly just the way you are!”
With that, she found herself swept willy-nilly into his arms and crushed in a kiss such as she had never experienced before. A part of her marveled a moment at how different this was from Sir Rollin’s unwanted embrace. That had been decidedly unpleasant, while this was, well, wonderful. Then her arms crept naturally around his neck, and all thought was gone.
Neither of them heard the library door open or noticed Frederick come in. He stood for a moment, staring at them in outrage, then turned away. “Girls!” he exclaimed with loathing. “They spoil everything.”