If you are reading this and remain unmarried, then I have failed in my duty to protect you. If you are unwed, then you may have noticed the odd suitors calling at your door — men of ill character, I fear. I pray you and your mother rebuffed such persons.
I cannot say more of their motives, but know this: it is not affection that drives them.
Forgive me, my daughter, for this cryptic tone. I do not know when this letter shall find you, nor who might intercept it. I asked Mr. Barnes, our solicitor, to deliver this to you with the reading of my will. Whether he recalls this instruction, I cannot say — he thought me quite mad for it. In any case, you may find requirements in my will that seem strange. Trust that all is for a purpose. I explain further in another letter.
If the Lord wills it, this letter will be of no consequence because I either will have ensured you are wed, or you will have found a gentleman worthy of you. One who will protect and shield you, just as you will protect and shield?—
Charity gasped as a tear slid down her cheek. Her father had wished her to marry for love…and yet here she was, married to a man she now thought?—
She paused. Her mind flew back to the evening of the ball. That kiss. Not the one on the dance floor — the other one, the true one. When he had pressed his lips to hers, she had felt something. Affection. No — more than that. Had it beenlove? Perhaps. Something close to it, at least.
But still, what she had now — it was not the sort of love her father had imagined for her.
She shook her head and turned back to the letter. It was nearly at its end.
My dearest Charity, I cannot reveal more. But I may guide you. To understand everything, you must find something. You must find the source of this trouble. And with it, you shall find your answers.
Go to the place where eight legs once danced,
Where honey spilled from the tree, but there were no bees.
Where rain poured down on the sunniest day
And drove one to the secret place of refuge.
Go there. From there, you will find your way. You must.
For all our sakes.
Charity lowered the letter, utterly bewildered.
Her father had spoken in riddles often during her childhood. He had once hidden sweetmeats or foreign fruits about the house and sent her to find them by means of puzzles. She had adored it. Eleanor had found it tiresome. Thus the riddles had become a special bond between her and her father alone.
She had cherished them. But now? Now they were giving her a dreadful headache.
She looked at the letter once more.
The place where eight legs once danced?She murmured aloud, shaking her head. What in heaven’s name did he mean?
Perplexed, she folded the letter, slipped it back into the book, and returned it to the nightstand. She would find a proper hiding place in the morning.
Still confused, she blew out the candle and lay on her pillow.
It was deep in the night, as her body begged for sleep and her mind drifted toward dreaming, that suddenly it struck her.
She sat up with a gasp and stared at the nightstand.
She knew. She knew exactly where she had to go.
In the morning, she would rise, pack a satchel, and begin a journey — a journey that, she felt certain, would at last lead her to the truth.
CHAPTER32
Eammon
Two days had passed since their dreadful argument. Eammon sat on the floor by his desk, opening yet another trunk. He sifted through the papers inside, his jaw set as he breathed through his nose.
“You look as though you might explode if someone were to light a match near you,” Thomas remarked, but there was no humor in his tone. He meant it—this much was certain.
