Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)(29)
“I dare not let anything slip by. Not so much as a single cottager, who might otherwise have useful knowledge.”
The man’s hair shone almost copper in the orange lamplight; he frowned and shifted, staring at those pins until Ned thought they might reduce to slag in the heat of his gaze.
Ned had known Harcroft for years. The ferocity of his expression was nothing new. Harcroft looked like a ruffled angel, with his gold hair and his tired slouch. He had always seemed perfect—so damned perfect. But for his confession on that long-ago night, Ned would have believed him to be truly without fault.
Harcroft had poured himself a finger’s breadth of sherry, but as usual, the liquid sat untouched in a tumbler by his map. He leaned back and sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair.
“I can help with your sojourns,” Ned said. “I spent enough time hereabouts in my youth that I know the environs quite well.” He reached for the pencil and sketched a little X between two hills. “There are five farmers’ cottages in this valley. Not truly a village, but the houses are built within shouting range of each other, the lands radiating out from that point. And here…”
Harcroft nodded as Ned talked. It was good to feel useful, to know that someone was willing to speak with him. Ned discussed the area within a day’s ride from Berkswift slowly, starting from the north and then filling in details in a clockwise sweep. It was only until they got to the southeast quadrant of the map that Ned paused to sharpen the pencil with a penknife.
“There’s very little out west,” he said. “It’s all sheep pasture now.” He tapped the map at the old Leary place, remembering Kate’s words that afternoon. “Mrs. Alcot, apparently, lives alone here.” He sketched in an obligatory squiggle. “The house she is staying in is rather out of the way.”
Now that he was looking at the rough map, he was reminded of precisely how out of the way the house was—a good thirty minutes on horseback. On foot? Kate’s trek must have taken considerably longer. Over an hour. Another two or three to come back, by the roundabout route she’d taken. She could have made it back to the point where he’d met her in the time allotted. If she’d walked very quickly, and spent no time visiting with Mrs. Alcot.
“Something doesn’t add up,” he said aloud.
“I know that feeling.” Harcroft rubbed his eyes. “I feel as if I’m missing something right in front of my nose, and if I could only draw back, I would see it.”
“There’s another cottage.” Ned moved his pencil a few inches north. “It should be abandoned—the shepherds use it in spring and summer. It’s right here, along the ridge. We passed it this morning. But it’s empty this time of year.”
“Perhaps I’ll go knock these two dots off, tomorrow morning,” Harcroft said, watching as Ned inscribed a second squiggle to represent the shepherd’s cottage.
Ned had scared Kate this afternoon. By the tempo of her breath and the pallor of her skin, she’d seemed terrified to see him at first. And it hadn’t just been his abrupt appearance. His questions had discomfited her enough that she’d thrown herself at him in that frightened parody of a kiss. And he hadn’t even done anything—just asked after Mrs. Alcot.
“Kate spoke with Mrs. Alcot this afternoon,” Ned said slowly. “She would have spoken up if the woman had seen anything.” He reached for a straight-pin, to puncture that dot on the map.
Harcroft reached forward and blocked his hand. “No. I think not.”
“Kate is friends with Lady Harcroft. I know she wants to help.”
“She’s a woman. She’ll be rather too kind in her questioning. I’ve seen your wife with mine for three years, Ned. If there’s a thought in her head beyond the latest fashions in head gear, I’ve yet to see evidence of it.”
That seemed too much an echo of Kate’s own words this afternoon. Ned felt another prickle of unease travel through him. He was definitely missing something.
“Well,” he said, “then I’ll do it myself tomorrow. I know Mrs. Alcot, and if what Kate said is true, she’ll be more likely to talk to me than a stranger. You go here.” Ned tapped east on the map. “Concentrate on the towns with significant populations—it’s the best use of your time, in any event. I’ll handle these two.”
That sense that something was eluding him intensified.
Harcroft shook his head. “Well. That decides that. I suppose I should turn in if I’m to have an early start tomorrow.” He stood and stretched.
Ned stared at the map a while longer. “I was just wondering one thing, Harcroft. Jenny and Gareth spent all their time today searching out news of any ruffians who might have absconded with your wife. But this afternoon, you asked after gossip about a woman and child alone. Do you think she left of her own free will?”
Harcroft froze, his arms still above his head. “I cannot afford to discount any possibility.”
“But why might she have done that?”
“Why does any woman do anything?” He shrugged, as if all feminine foibles could be reduced to whim. “Honestly, I simply cannot comprehend those women who claim that they should be granted the right to vote or own property. If they could vote, they would choose the fellow with the prettiest moustache. Or the one who promised to usher in a new fashion.”