The next day was Sunday, and though Joanna tried to convince her mother that she was too ill to attend church, Mrs. Rowntree would have none of it. She and her parents set out in the gig at nine and reached the Longton village church as everyone was going in. There was no time to chat before the service, for which Joanna was grateful. Though most of their friends had seen the announcement of Peter Finley’s engagement, and many had known of the vague agreement between her family and his, Joanna felt somehow worse now that he was actually married. It made everything so final. She dreaded facing the neighbors after church.
Reverend Williston’s sermon seemed woefully short to Joanna, by no means a usual occurrence, and all too soon the family was filing out into the churchyard again. Her father stopped to remind the rector of the meeting on Thursday, and Mrs. Rowntree fell into conversation with one of her friends; all Joanna’s hopes of rushing directly to the gig and driving straight home were dashed. As she shifted impatiently from foot to foot beside her mother, there was a tug at her sleeve. She turned to find her best friend, Selina Grant, standing behind her and followed the girl a few steps away.
“Oh, Joanna,” said Selina in a dramatic undertone, “are you all right? I was thinking of you all through yesterday. I wanted to come, but Mother kept me at lessons and errands the whole day.”
Joanna hung her head and looked stricken. Selina, a romantic damsel one year younger than herself, had entered actively into her feelings during this difficult time, and it was into her sympathetic ear that Joanna poured all her troubles and anxieties.
At her downcast expression, Selina pressed her hand.
“Well, I think it is all very stupid,” said a sturdy voice behind them. They turned to find Georgiana, Selina’s younger sister, standing there. A young lady of only fourteen summers, she had as yet little interest in affairs of the heart and found her sister’s airs tiresome. “Who would want to be married, after all?”
The two older girls looked at her reproachfully, and Selina said, “Keep your voice down, Georgiana, please.”
“Huh,” sniffed Georgiana.
Selina pulled Joanna a few steps away from her. “Joanna, I must speak to you,” she hissed. “I have news.”
“What is it?” asked the other girl.
Selina pressed her hand again. “Oh, my dear! If you can only bear it.”
“What nonsense,” said Georgiana, who had followed them blithely. “You know, Selina, Mama says that if you don’t soon outgrow these missish freaks, she’ll have to send you to Miss Rich’s academy for a year to have some sense put in your head. I heard her tell our aunt so only last week. Who cares a fig whether Peter Finley comes home, I say? He’s nothing but a slowtop. He doesn’t even ride well. Remember when he was thrown into the horse pond at the Annandales’ hunt? He—”
“Comes home?” Joanna interrupted. “Here?”
Glaring at her sister, Selina nodded. “We heard of it only yesterday evening. Our housekeeper is very friendly with his. She has had orders to prepare the house. They are arriving this week.”
Joanna put a hand to her mouth. “Oh no.”
Selina nodded sympathetically. “I thought you would wish to know immediately. To prepare yourself, you know.”
“What rubbish!” exclaimed Georgiana, and she flounced away in disgust.
Watching her go, Selina shook her head. “I cannot think how I came to have a sister so lacking in sensibility. Can she be a changeling, do you think?”
But Joanna had no time for Georgiana. “Oh, Selina, what shall I do? I am bound to meet them sooner or later; this is such a small neighborhood. How can I face him?”
The other girl clasped her hands before her. “Oh, I know how you must feel. But you must be strong. You must not allow your feelings to show. They say she is very proud and unpleasant, you know, and I’m sure she would be rude to you if she knew of Peter’s attachment.”
“Attachment,” echoed Joanna, laughing hollowly.
“He was attached to you,” insisted her friend. “Anyone could see that. I am certain she entrapped him. I daresay Peter will be miserable in his marriage.” Her expression reflected satisfaction with this notion.
“Oh, no,” replied Joanna softly. “I could never wish that.”
“Well, it will be his own fault. They say she has a sharp tongue and is used to her own way. We shall see.” She looked wise.
“Who says? Where have you heard these things?”
“My Uncle William. Did I not tell you? But no, I have not seen you since their visit last week. I meant to come Friday, but Mother insisted that I go with her on some stupid errand in Oxford, and we returned too late. And then yesterday, I told you…”
“But what did he say?” asked Joanna impatiently.
“Well, I have told you most of it. My uncle says the Denbys were a very rich family. Her father was a nabob, in India, you know. He made piles of money there—in trade of some kind.” Selina’s pug nose tried to point superciliously. “And he left his two children very well off. But the son, Sir Rollin, gambled all his money away. And they say his sister wouldn’t help him at all. She kept all her money for herself.”
“How horrid!” exclaimed Joanna. “If Gerald or Frederick needed money, I should give it to them instantly.” She imagined herself doing so, with great magnanimity.
“Of course you would,” agreed Selina. “But she is very proud and hard, you see. And my uncle said that she has been hanging out for a husband these three years at least. She is older than Peter.”
“No!” said Joanna, shocked. “How old is she?”
“Five or six and twenty, my uncle says. And no one in London wished to marry her because she is so disagreeable. I am sure she ensnared Peter in some low way.”
“Your uncle told you all this?” asked the other, wide-eyed.
Selina colored. “Well, no, not precisely,” she admitted. “I heard him talking to Mama. I couldn’t help it—the drawing-room door was wide open, and they were speaking quite loudly.”
Joanna disregarded this, shaking her head and murmuring, “Oh dear, poor Peter.”
Selina was about to go on when they were joined by Constance Williston, the daughter of the vicar. Constance was some months older than Joanna, and whether because she had been at school in Bath or because she was a slender, willowy blond, Joanna and the short, freckled Selina disliked her. Constance had been home from school for a month, and they had resolutely ignored her overtures.
“Good day,” said Constance pleasantly. “Isn’t the weather splendid?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered Selina quickly, moving closer to Joanna. “Not at all hot.”
“No. In fact, I was thinking of taking a walk this afternoon, to see the flowers in the fields. Would you care to come with me? We could have tea afterward at my house.”
“I’m sorry,” said Selina, “I can’t today.”
This ungracious reply made Joanna frown a little, but she also said, “I—I can’t either. I promised Mama I would help her with, ah, something.” Joanna flushed and felt guilty.
Constance’s eyes dropped. “Ah, too bad. Another time, perhaps.” And she turned and walked away.
“Oh dear,” said Joanna. “Perhaps we should go.”
“Why? She would only go on and on about some weed or other, and we could not talk about anything important with her there. No, we must hold a conference and decide what to do.”
“There is nothing we can do,” sighed Joanna.
Before Selina could protest, a male voice interrupted them. “Good morning, Miss Joanna,” said Jonathan Erland. “A lovely morning, is it not?”
Joanna turned to face him and agreed without much enthusiasm. Mr. Erland wore a different, newer coat of dark blue superfine today, but it was hardly more modish than the other she had seen. Everything about him bespoke his provincial travels.
Selina inched forward, and Joanna presented her. Her friend’s sandy brows went up when she heard who the stranger was. “You are going to live at the Abbey?” she cried. “Oh, how can you? I am sure it is haunted. All those crumbling ruins behind.”
Jonathan laughed. “Well, the ruins may be haunted, to be sure. The old monks, or nuns—I’m not precisely certain which it was—may still be angry about being evicted. But I doubt they come into the house. It’s such a dashed uncomfortable place, no sensible ghost would set foot in it.” He grinned engagingly at the girls, but they returned his gaze blankly.
Then Selina shivered. “Well, I do not understand how anyone could live with acres of crumbling ruins practically in one’s back garden. Why hasn’t someone cleared them all out, I wonder?”
“What? And spoil the atmosphere of mystery that surrounds the place?” asked Erland, still smiling.
Selina seemed much struck by this. “Would it? Yes, I suppose so. But still, all those old walls and pits; does it not make you shudder to see it every day?”
“I fear my sensibilities are too hardened,” he replied. “But Mr. Rowntree may grant your wish. He plans to get up a group to clear it out, I understand.” Erland turned to Joanna. “Or at least so thoroughly categorize it that no ghost will be left an inch of space. Isn’t that so, Miss Joanna?”
“Oh, I—I don’t know,” stammered Joanna.
“He does. Will you join the digging party?”
The corners of Joanna’s mouth turned down. “I shall not be asked. Father thinks me quite heedless and silly.” There was a trace of bitterness in her tone.
Erland blinked. “Ah. Well, I daresay it will be a dull, dirty job.” Sensing constraint, he changed the subject. “I believe your mother mentioned that you are fond of riding, Miss Rowntree?”
Joanna nodded.
“I, too,” he continued. “Perhaps one day soon you will join me and show me the best rides hereabouts. I should be grateful; I am quite bored with the ones I know.”
Joanna shrugged. “All right,” she said rather ungraciously, “if Mama approves.” Privately, she thought that she would not. Joanna had never been allowed to join such expeditions.
“Of course. And you must come also, Miss, ah, Grant.”
“I hate riding,” said Selina positively.
“Ah.”
“Selina,” called Georgiana from behind them, “we’re going.”
Her sister turned with an angry sigh, then shrugged and said good-bye. “I shall walk over to see you later this afternoon, Joanna,” she said as she left.
“I see that your parents are also ready to leave,” said Erland when she was gone. “May I escort you to them?” He offered his arm, and Joanna took it, but her mind was far away, wondering when the Finleys were coming home and how she could greet them with even the appearance of calm.
When they reached the gig, Erland bowed. “Good day. You won’t forget, I hope, Miss Joanna?”
“Forget?”
“About our ride.”
“Oh…oh, no.”
As the gig drove off, Jonathan Erland watched it with a combination of amusement and irony showing in his face.
* * *
Selina Grant arrived at the Rowntrees’ about three o’clock. The two girls went directly to one of their favorite haunts, an arbor at the back of the garden overgrown with white roses. Here, they had played with their dolls and sat through long summer afternoons talking, reading, or writing letters. And here this spring, they had excitedly begun to plan Joanna’s wedding. On this sunny June day, the place was fragrant and filled with the humming of bees.
“Oh, Joanna,” said Selina when they were alone, “they are coming this very week. It may even be tomorrow!”
“What, so soon after the wedding?”
Selina nodded. “She wants to see the house right away and start the workmen redecorating. That’s what the housekeeper says. The servants are in a worry, wondering what changes she plans to make.”
Joanna sighed. “Mother will make me go when she calls on her. I know she will. She doesn’t understand at all.”
“Couldn’t you pretend to be ill?”
“She wouldn’t believe me.”
The two girls contemplated this grim prospect in silence for some moments. After a while, Selina said, “I wouldn’t come into the country on my honeymoon. What a slowtop Peter is. I should go to Paris.”
Joanna bridled.
“I daresay it was all her notion,” added Selina hurriedly. “She wants to take over the household as soon as possible.” There was a short pause. “I was never more surprised in my life than when Mr. Erland joined us this morning,” she continued. “When did he arrive at the Abbey? I had no idea.”
Listlessly, Joanna repeated what she had learned during his visit.
“No money!” exclaimed the other. “Well, what a take-in. After the way old Mr. Erland squeezed every penny, I should think there would be piles of it.” When Joanna made no reply, she added, “Do you think he is handsome?”
Roused, Joanna stared at her. “Mr. Erland?”
“Yes. He has a kind of masterful manner, does he not?”
The other girl was speechless for a moment, then she burst out, “Masterful? Selina, whatever can you be thinking of? He has no style at all. His coats look as if they were made for someone else. He has never even been to London, I believe.”
“Well, of course he does not compare with men of fashion,” Selina responded hurriedly. “How could he after all, if he has been abroad for years and years? I only meant he seemed a pleasant, well-mannered man.”
“As well-mannered as one can be who has never had the advantages of mingling with the ton,” said Joanna haughtily.
Selina began to giggle. “Oh, Joanna, you should have seen your face when you said that. You looked the picture of disdain, just like my Aunt Arabella from London.”
This idea did not displease Joanna. “He is well enough,” she continued in measured tones, “but he has missed the finer things of life and will never be truly cultivated.”
“Will you really go riding with him?” asked Selina. “Do you think your mother will allow it?”
Joanna frowned. “I don’t know. She said yesterday that I might dance at the dress party. I’m to come out in London next season, you know.” Suddenly recalling, she added, “Or I was to have come out. I cannot go now, of course.”
“What dress party?” asked her friend eagerly, for once ignoring Joanna’s plight.
“Oh, Mama plans to give one to welcome Mr. Erland to the neighborhood.”
“With dancing?”
“Yes.”
Selina clasped her hands. “Oh, if only Mother will let me dance.” Her face fell. “I don’t suppose she will, though. She is always scolding me for being pert and forward.” She grimaced. “How I hate not being out!”
Joanna was looking at the garden wall and did not appear to hear.
“But you, Joanna, you will dance. That means you are practically out already. You will be invited to everything once that is known. How lucky you are.”
“I shan’t come out,” said Joanna sadly.
“What!” cried Selina, aghast. “Not come out? What do you mean?”
Joanna shook her head. “My hopes are blighted. I shall dwindle into an old spinster like Miss Snell at Longton.”
“Well, yes, of course. But not go to London? Joanna!”
Before Joanna could explain to her friend why it was impossible for her to go to London, even with Peter Finley removed from it, they were interrupted by the approach of her brother Frederick, limping down the path with the aid of his father’s walking stick. He came up and lowered himself beside them in the arbor.
“What do you want, Frederick?” asked Joanna impatiently. “We are talking.”
“I could see that,” retorted the young gentleman. “That’s why I came out. It’s dashed dull inside—nothing to do but read.”
“How did you hurt your foot?” asked Selina, and Joanna glared at her. Asking Frederick questions was no way to get rid of him.
Enthusiastically, Frederick launched into the story of his adventure at the Abbey. “I was just walking along the top of an old wall in the front part of the ruin when two of the stones gave way, and I fell. What a stupid accident.” He looked at his ankle. “The doctor says I shall be hobbling for weeks—worse luck.”
“But why did you wish to climb the walls of the ruins?” asked Selina. She shivered. “I don’t like it there.”
Frederick eyed her with contempt, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “I was looking for the treasure,” he whispered.
Selina’s eyes widened. She stared at him for a moment, then said, “What treasure?”
“Old man Erland’s treasure. I wager it’s in the ruins, though Jack Williston thinks it’s in the house. I might have found it that very day, and now it will be ages before I can hunt again. Someone will probably get in ahead of me.”
Selina leaned back and smiled condescendingly. “You cannot really believe there is treasure buried at the Abbey. It is too ridiculous.”
Frederick sat up straighter. “What’s ridiculous about it? Old man Erland was the greatest clutchfist in nature. Why shouldn’t he have hidden his money? Misers do, you know.”
“But he would have told someone before he died.”
The boy shook his head. “Not he. They never do. Can’t stand the idea of anyone else getting their hands on the money. I know it’s there. I was looking for a place that had been dug. I’ll find it, too, when my cursed ankle heals.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be allowed to keep a treasure, if you did find it,” snapped Joanna. “Frederick, do run along and look for Mama. I daresay she will play a game with you.”
“Not keep it!” cried her brother, outraged. “And why should I not? If I find it, it’s mine by right.”
“Nonsense. It would belong to the estate.”
Frederick looked defiant. “Then I shan’t tell when I do find it. I shall hide it again and use it when I’m older. To buy my own curricle.”
Joanna turned away with an exasperated exclamation, but Selina and Frederick argued spiritedly for some time over the relative merits of his plan. By the time they had finished, it was five, and Selina had to go. Thus, the two girls had no chance to work out a plan, and Joanna was left to discover for herself how she should face the new Mrs. Finley.