“You look a little tired this morning,” Arrabella said with a frown as she studied the dark shadows beneath his eyes.
“It’s taking a little time to get used to being in the quiet of the country, that’s all,” Harper replied obliquely. He threw her a tender look that assured her he was fine. There was no earthly reason why he should tell her that he had kept guard over her house throughout the night, and only moved from his hiding place when dawn had started to creep over the horizon, and Mrs Able had left her house in her dressing gown to feed her chickens.
“You are used to the city noises. It must be completely different to have nothing but the soft hoot of an own and silence to break your sleep.”
“I have slept in all sorts of places, but it has never really been all that quiet.” He tapped the side of his head. “Too much going on up here.”
“You must be eager to get back to the city.” She waved a hand to indicate the rolling landscape around them. “I mean, nothing much happens around here. It must be boring compared to what you are used to.”
“Boring? Do you really think that being locked in the crypt by an unnamed person and then mysteriously let back out again several hours later is boring?” he asked incredulously. “Getting locked in anywhere with a beautiful woman is the last thing I would ever call boring.”
She was thrilled to pieces that he thought that she was ‘beautiful’ but, before she could say anything, he held his elbow out to her and lifted his brows.
“Ready to go again?”
She groaned and rolled her eyes, but rested her hand on the crook of his elbow and allowed him to escort her out to the waiting curricle anyway. She didn’t want to question why she had a wide smile on her face, or the sun felt brighter, or the birds seemed to chirp louder in the trees. Instead, she allowed him to hand her into the curricle and settled back to enjoy the journey.
The church door was open when they pulled to a stop outside Moldton church. The ladies were already industriously polishing the pews and washing the floors. Having secured the services of one of the ladies, Mrs Finlay, to keep the door open for them, they lit several candles and descended into the crypt for the second time in two days.
The enclosed place of rest suddenly wasn’t as forbidding as it had been the day before, yet she knew that everything was just the same. She was very conscious of the fact that everything felt a little different today, especially after the kisses she had shared with Harper last night. She didn’t know whether it was because he was beside her again, their relationship had changed, or the cleaning ladies were upstairs and keeping the door open, but Arrabella had no qualms about following him into the darkness and was actually eager to start work.
Once the candles were safely stored on the wall mounts, and the room lit well enough to see clearly, they began where they left off yesterday, and started to draw boxes away from the wall so that they could peer into the contents. Unfortunately, the next several boxes contained nothing but more papers and a few altar cloths. They spent hours dragging the boxes out, searching the contents and then pushing the boxes back against the far wall. It was mid-afternoon by the time Mrs Finlay appeared and announced that the ladies were finished and ready to head home.
Harper glanced at the last box and lifted a candle to take a quick peek inside only to curse silently when he found it completely empty.
“Nothing in there at all,” he announced with a sigh.
Arrabella frowned at Mrs Finlay, who was one of the village’s oldest residents. “Do you know what happened to the old parish records from Hambley Wood church? They were moved here after the fire but seem to have vanished.”
“The ones that were moved here after the great fire years back?”
Arrabella nodded, although wasn’t entirely sure which period the ‘great fire’ related to. “Well, they stayed here for a while and then were put into the Hambley Wood cellars. The old vicar returned them to their rightful place in case anyone needed them, dear. Why do you ask?”
“We just need some information out of them, that’s all,” Arrabella replied obliquely.
She was aware that their quest had drawn the interest of the ladies, but none of them seemed as though they wanted to challenge the inappropriateness of Arrabella being in the crypt, alone, with such a charmingly handsome man, and for that she was extremely grateful.
“I am sorry,” she sighed to Harper later that afternoon when they were on their way back to Hambley Wood. “I feel as though I have taken you on a wild goose chase.”
“Nonsense,” Harper replied quickly. He would have preferred not to have spent the last day trawling through dusty boxes, but he didn’t regret taking the opportunity to spend some more time alone with Arrabella. “You can only go by what you are told.”
“I know, but I should have asked someone who knew Moldton church’s history a bit better, shouldn’t I? I feel as though I have wasted your time.”
In spite of the fact that they were in the middle of a country lane, Harper drew the curricle to stop and turned sideways on his seat to face her. “This has been, by far, the most interesting adventure I have had for a while and I don’t regret a moment of it.”
Arrabella lifted her brows sceptically and made no attempt to keep the doubt off her face.
He grinned unrepentantly and stroked a finger down her cheek. “I have rather enjoyed myself.”
She was still trembling by that single touch when he picked up the reins and clicked the horse into motion again.
“Is that Joseph?” She asked several minutes later when she caught sight of a man stalking across the field toward them. Even from several feet away she could see the dark scowl on his face. “He doesn’t look very happy.”
Harper frowned at his brother and read the anger in the way his brother practically stomped across the rough ground. He considered calling a greeting, but Joseph didn’t look up or appear to notice that there was anyone nearby.
“There is something going on with him at the moment, but I don’t know what it is.” He realised then that he hadn’t paid his brother the visit he had intended to make yesterday. With being locked in the crypt and protecting Arrabella last night it had slipped his mind, but he resolved to drop by the farm at the earliest opportunity. “I am going to go and pay him a visit and see if I can get him to talk to me,” he sighed.
There was little Arrabella could say to that. She didn’t have a long enough acquaintance with him to pry into family business or put forward her opinion on what he should do. For some reason, Joseph’s behaviour seemed to make it more important that they find the information about Harper’s true birth parents as quickly as possible. Was that what was wrong with Joseph? Was he worried that Harper was no longer his brother?
She was deep in thought by the time Harper pulled the curricle to a stop outside the vicarage. As soon as her feet touched the floor she glanced up at him. “I am going to take a look in the cellar while it is still daylight,” she declared firmly. “There is no time like the present.”
If she was honest, she felt guilty that she had taken him on a fool’s errand over to Moldton, when the register he wanted was right on her doorstep. She dreaded the thought of going into the church cellar; it was as bad as the crypt in Moldton, but they wouldn’t find the information if she didn’t face her fears and go down there. It seemed the least she could do to make amends for two wasted days of futile searching.
“I am coming too,” he replied with a nod.
“I am going to get something to eat first,” she added softly. “Would you care to join me? Then we can head over to the cellars and see if we can find that record you need.”
The heady scent of meat and gravy that emanated from the vicarage kitchen made his decision for him. His stomach growled in anticipation and was loud enough to make Arrabella smile. With a rueful grin he stood back and waved his arm toward the house.
“After you.”
It was mid-afternoon by the time they made their way to the church. As soon as they were inside, Arrabella took a moment to lock the outer door. Harper searched the church, and checked the locks on the windows and doors before he helped her gather the many bottles and candles as they could hold and carried them down to the cellar. They wedged the cellar door open with a heavy oak desk that was usually used to sign the registers. Moving it made so much noise that nobody would be able to close the door without alerting them, even if they could get into the church. All too soon, Arrabella found herself standing beneath a church for the third time in two days. Now that the place was so well lit, the presence of twelve large, neatly stacked boxes in the far corner of the large square room became evident.
She gasped when she saw them. “This is it,” she whispered and rushed over to lift the lid off one of the boxes.
Her eyes grew round as she read the faded gold lettering: Hambley Wood Parish. Births, Deaths and Marriages. She lifted two heavy volumes out and handed one to Harper. The yellowed pages didn’t look promising and she was unsurprised when he rifled through the pages and shook his head, but there were enough boxes to assure them that the one they were after must be there. Arrabella checked the book she held before she carefully placed it on the floor at her feet.
“Are they all registers?” Harper demanded with a frown. Although there were a lot of boxes, the books were huge. The thrill of success actually made his hands shake and he had to take a moment to calm his nerves before he repositioned the highest box onto the floor and lifted the lid.
They worked together in amiable silence for several moments. Arrabella studied the book in her hands and rifled through the pages. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. She wasn’t sure whether to be excited, relieved or sad.
This was it. The book of records Harper was looking for. She wanted to ask him which specific entry he was after, but couldn’t find the words. It was far too intrusive. In spite of the closeness that had grown so quickly between them, she was very aware that theirs was still a new acquaintance and she didn’t feel altogether comfortable asking him for personal facts.
“Harper,” she whispered.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
He sensed rather than saw Arrabella’s nod of confirmation. His gaze fell to the heavy leather bound book in her hands and for a moment he couldn’t speak. He slowly took it off her when she handed it to him and looked down at it for several long moments. Now that he had the information he wanted in his hands, he wasn’t entirely sure whether he wanted to know. After all, he had absolutely no intention of taking either the title, or the wealth that the Cavendish brothers had said was waiting for him. Did it really matter whether Agatha was his birth mother, or some unnamed woman called Alice? He had been raised in a loving family, in a house that had been a home. He could look back on his childhood with fondness and with no hint of regret. Were facts and figures all that important?
He tried to reassure himself that they weren’t, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to put the matter aside until he knew for certain. He couldn’t exactly decide what to do with his future if he didn’t know the truth about his past. If he knew, and decided to take the wealth that had been set aside for him, it meant that he wouldn’t have to return to the Star Elite, but what then? What would he do with his time?
“Why don’t we take this back to the vicarage where the light is better? You can use father’s study to search for the entry you want.”
He nodded absently and helped her extinguish the candles, gather the bottles and take them upstairs. Once in the ante room, he placed the register carefully on the desk before he hurried back downstairs to help Arrabella bring the last of the bottles out.
“All done?” He asked and watched her nod.
They approached the desk to move it away from the door and froze at the sight of the empty desk top where the register had stood only moments earlier. He didn’t hear the noise of crashing glass when he dropped the bottles, or the crunching noise the smashed bottles made beneath his booted feet. He tore through the church with his fists clenched in fury. At the main door, he turned the large hoop of the latch only to find it firmly locked. He raced back down the aisle, past a startled Arrabella, and lunged through the back room to the rear door only to stare in consternation when he found that door locked too.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Harper, what is it?”
The tinge of fear in her voice was enough to make him stop half-way down the main aisle where he was checking under the pews. He flicked a glance at her and marched back to the ante room.
“Do you see it?”
“See what?”
He sighed impatiently and pointed to the spot where he had put the book that held such vital information. “The register. When I came up stairs, I placed the register over here.” He tapped the desk top with a finger. “Now it has gone.” He studied her blankly while his mind raced. “Does anyone have another set of keys to this place?”
“Well, there is a spare set of keys. They are usually kept in the drawer in my father’s office.” She began to get frightened and glanced around the empty church warily.
“Let’s go,” he snapped and took the bunch of keys she held out to him with a sigh. He stood back to allow her to precede him out of the room and marched with her toward the front door.
Arrabella glanced at him. This was a Harper she had never seen before and would never have believed existed. His face was a mask of merciless fury that made her want to run and hide. The sudden change in him made her realise just how short their acquaintance had been, and how little she actually did know him. As handsome as he was; as wonderful as his kisses last night had been, he was still a stranger. The thought made her want to weep.
She cast a quick glance around the empty church and, for the first time since she had arrived in the village three years ago, she suddenly felt vulnerable being there alone. With a shiver, she hurried after him but, by the time she reached the doorway, he was already at the far end of the churchyard. With a sigh she lifted her skirts and quickened her pace to catch up. She briefly contemplated locking the church door, but then realised that it was already supposed to have been locked.
“They aren’t here,” she whispered when they were inside her father’s study. She rummaged through the top drawer of her father’s desk before she pulled out the rest of the drawers in quick succession, but there were no keys.
“When did you last see them?” Harper bit out.
He was starting to get the distinct impression that someone didn’t want him to get hold of the register or, more importantly, find out about his past. His thoughts immediately turned to the Cavendish brothers, but suspecting them didn’t make sense because they were the ones who had approached him to tell him about his birth right. It just wasn’t logical to think that any one of them might be responsible; even if they were the kind of men who would think nothing of knocking someone over the head and kidnapping them. Besides, the man he had followed last night had not been tall enough to be a Cavendish.
No, someone else wanted to keep that information a secret, only he had no idea who. The man he had seen in the shadows last night had not been familiar. His thoughts turned to his brothers. While Angus and Robert were fine, he couldn’t ignore Joseph’s surliness, both yesterday and today. Something was bothering his brother. Was he trying to stop Harper getting his hands on the information for some reason?
He rubbed a hand down his face and turned to find Arrabella staring at him with a mixture of fear and consternation on her face.
“I can’t understand it. There is always a spare set of keys in this drawer in case of emergencies.”
“Who is likely to know that they are there?”
“I don’t know. Half of the village I think.” When Harper sighed loudly she looked at him apologetically. “My father is a busy man and isn’t always at home to open the church if people want to use it. Unfortunately he is getting a little forgetful of late and sometimes forgets to leave us the keys. The old vicar used to keep a set of keys in the drawer for people to use, and it was just something we allowed to continue,” she added defensively when Harper shook his head in disbelief.
“So if anyone needs to get into the church, they walk into the vicarage and take the keys from the drawer.” He cursed silently and wondered if this could get any worse. Hundreds of people knew where the keys were kept. Brilliant.
“They bring them back when they are finished,” she finished lamely.
He saw the tears that pooled in her eyes and suddenly felt like a total cad for the way he had treated her. In an attempt to ease her fears, he leaned his hips against the desk in a casual pose and crossed his arms. “I want you to think carefully about when the keys were last used. Who took them and what for? Who was around?”
As she studied him, Arrabella felt a small part of her heart break for the dream that once was. She began to wonder if the tenderness he had shown her had purely been a ruse to garner her help. After all, she couldn’t lose sight of the fact that he had lied at their first meeting and claimed that the information he wanted was for the War Office. What other lies had he told her? He now looked at her with all the warmth of a stranger, and it hurt her more than she cared to admit to see the hardness in his eyes.
He watched her face fall into a cool mask of politeness and mentally cursed his ruthlessness with her. He had to remind himself that although she had willingly gone along with their quest to find the register, she wasn’t used to a world in the shadows, and had no idea what he did for the Star Elite. Now that his initial anger had eased a little, he realised that it wasn’t just the theft of the register that had made him mad, it was the thought that someone had snuck into Arrabella’s house while she hadn’t been there. Had the shadowy figure he had seen last night been in the house when he had brought Arrabella home? He shuddered at the thought.
“Mrs Able?” she called as she left the office and made her way to the back of the house.
“Yes dear?”
“Has anyone borrowed the spare set of keys for the church lately?”
Mrs Able looked blank for a moment. “Not as far as I am aware dear, no.”
“Have you seen any strangers in the area?”
Mrs Able turned to Harper. “Apart from you, you mean?” she replied with a slight frown. “No, I don’t believe I have, no.”
Harper watched Arrabella’s face and realised that in the last ten minutes he had done far more damage to his burgeoning relationship with her than he had ever thought possible. He couldn’t quite decide if she was now wary of him, or offended by his rudeness earlier but, if the polite look of indifference on her face was anything to go by, he had a lot of work to do to put matters right.
“I am sorry, Arrabella,” he murmured quietly and waved her back into the study. “It just bothers me that this house isn’t locked when nobody is at home. Anyone could let themselves in and pose a significant risk to your welfare. It isn’t right, or safe, that you take such a casual attitude toward your personal safety. It is even more pertinent that you now start to keep your doors locked given that it appears you have a thief in your midst.”
“Oh, but people need to get in to be able to borrow the church keys all the time, I cannot lock the vicarage doors, it just isn’t right,” Arrabella argued. She wasn’t prepared to believe for one second that anyone in the village was a thief.
“When do the ladies come in to clean?” As he led her into the morning room, he studied the church yard through the window. The church was in plain view of the house, although the front door to the church was on the other side of the building. However the back door was merely a few feet from the path that led from the vicarage. Anyone who had purloined the keys from the drawer in the study could be at the church within seconds and not be seen.
“They come on Fridays,” Arrabella declared. Annoyance straightened her spine. “I can assure you that the ladies would never do such a thing as to steal the parish register, or the keys for that matter.” She winced at the defensiveness in her tone but made no apology for it because she knew that they wouldn’t.
“I am not suggesting that they would,” he sighed and struggled to keep hold of his patience. “I think that for the time being, especially given that you are a beautiful woman who is all alone in the house, you should keep your doors locked, even when you are at home. It is just a suggestion,” he added quickly when she opened her mouth to object. “I just don’t want you in any danger while you are here all by yourself. You cannot lose sight of the fact that there is nobody in the vicinity to help you if there is a problem.”
He was aware that Mrs Able placed a tray of tea things on the small table before the fire, but didn’t break eye contact with Arrabella.
“As soon as your father gets back, I think you need to find somewhere a bit more secure to put the keys. Until then, I need you to take another look at the study and see if anything else has gone missing.” He hated to unnerve her. She had as much right to sleep soundly in her bed as the next person, but he also didn’t want her going about her life with her head in the clouds, and unwittingly leave herself vulnerable to attack.
“Do you think that they are related? The keys and the missing register, I mean?”
“I think it is highly likely, don’t you? Someone, somewhere, doesn’t want me to get hold of that register.”
“But who? Why? I mean, who knows that you want the information?”
Harper paused at that and studied her. “So far? Me, of course, you, Angus, Robert and Joseph, and the Cavendish brothers.”
“Well, I have been with you all the time and I was in the crypt when the register went missing.”
“I know it isn’t you, Arrabella,” he replied gently. “I hate to think that it is any of my brothers, but I just don’t know.” He knew that it would be foolhardy to simply dismiss anyone because he wanted to, especially without having proof of their innocence.
He could sense her confusion and decided to boldly ignore etiquette once more. As soon as he had closed the door to the hallway, he took a seat on the chaise and waited until Arrabella had poured the tea. While they drank, he told her about his possible connection to the Cavendish brothers. He had no idea why, but he told her everything, including the potential title and wealth that awaited him if he chose to accept it. By the time he finished, he felt an enormous weight lift off his shoulders and sat back to gauge her reaction.
She didn’t look shocked, merely thoughtful. “I cannot believe that it would be any of your brothers. Why would they stop you? I mean, surely it wouldn’t matter to them who gave birth to you because they see you as family.” She frowned at that and studied him. “Unless they want to keep you as one of the family, and think that if you don’t have the information you cannot prove that you don’t share the same parents. What about the man the Cavendish brothers say is your father?”
“He told them a story about how he met my mother, so I guess he knows too.”
“He has to be a suspect.”
Harper stared at her. “Well, yes, I suppose that he has to be a suspect too.” He had to admit it, her logic was flawless and, while he was impressed by it, he was more relieved than anything by the fact that she appeared to have forgiven him for his harshness earlier.
“What do you want to do about the register?”
“I think that I am going to search the church again and take a look around the churchyard. It may have been dropped if the thief left the area in a rush.”
Arrabella placed her teacup down on the table before them with a clatter. “Well, let’s get on with it then.”
Harper’s initial objection lodged in his throat and he stared askance at her when she immediately jumped to her feet and hurried toward the door. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to remain indoors where it was safe but, in reality, he was in no position to tell her what to do. It was broad daylight; there could be nothing wrong with her wandering around the churchyard in search of a set of keys or a book, could there?
He barely got a chance to take a sip of his tea before he hastily hurried out of the house after her. In contrast to their journey to the vicarage, this time she was the one who took the lead and strode across the vicarage garden like a general heading off to battle. He caught up with her just inside the churchyard and paused for a moment to close the gate.
“I will take this side, you take the other,” Arrabella suggested and stalked off without a backward look. Left with nothing else to do, Harper shook his head and began to search.
“Let’s go and search the church again,” he sighed when they met up again half an hour later. Deep in his heart, however, he knew that neither the book nor the keys would be found there. His suspicions were proven correct when he dropped down into a pew at the rear of the church beside her and read the defeat on her face.
“I never have thanked you for helping me find the book in the first place,” Harper whispered softly.
Arrabella was relieved to have the old, original, Harper back. The hardness of the stranger he had turned into was someone she didn’t want to meet very often. A small part of her couldn’t help but wonder which one was the real him.
“And lose them again,” she said dryly. “If we had just left those candles downstairs, or kept the register with us, we would still have it.”
“You are always wiser in hindsight. It is too late to have regrets now. Unless the person who locked us in the crypt, and let us back out again, changes his mind for a second time and brings the register back, I need to go and find them.” He didn’t mention that there was a set of rather intriguing footprints just the other side of the low stone wall that ran along the lane. The mudded boots were definitely too large to be a lady’s boots and it was extremely unusual to climb over the wall near to the trees when there was a gate and a nice dry path only a few feet away.
“I think I need to go and have a word with my brothers and the locals,” he said softly. “I need to ask a few neighbours if they have seen anyone in the area this morning, local or not. We cannot lose sight of the fact that the keys may have been taken for an entirely simple reason.”
The sceptical look she threw him matched his own doubts and he lapsed into silence. “If the register re-appears, please let me know.” He reluctantly pushed to his feet and escorted her to the door.