A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(85)
A smile cracked my lips at hearing my aunt voice such a thought.
“However, you didn’t come to speak to me about that.” Her eyes softened in concern. “Something has happened.”
Faced with her empathy, I suddenly found it difficult to speak. “My amethyst pendant. It’s missing.”
Her eyes widened with alarm. “The one your mother gave you?”
I nodded and then proceeded to explain about the locked jewelry box and my suspicions that it had been picked.
“This is serious, Kiera,” she replied, pressing a hand to her heart. “It means someone in this household is a thief.”
But not for the usual reasons. After all, they’d left the more expensive pieces of my jewelry untouched.
“Were you able to uncover anything about the miniature that was placed on my pillow?”
She blinked at the shift in topics but swiftly accommodated. “None of the staff claim to have done such a thing. In fact, only my maid and the housekeeper admitted to having ever seen the portrait before.”
“Then how did it end up in my room?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps a guest?” she suggested.
I’d considered the same thing. “But wouldn’t they have simply given it to me if they’d found it?” It would have been the more logical thing to do.
She shrugged, having no better answer than I did.
I dipped my head. “We’ll have to ask.”
She reached out to touch my knee. “Why don’t you let me handle that, as well as asking everyone about the pendant. I’m sure you have a dozen other things to see to.”
I conceded to her wishes, knowing she would be able to go about the matter in a much more diplomatic manner. The loss of the pendant was too personal to me.
I excused myself and went in search of Gage to inform him of what had happened, but discovered he and Anderley had already set out for Mr. MacCowan’s cottage, hoping to catch him at an earlier time of the day. I couldn’t fault him that logic, but I was still disgruntled not to be able to share my upset with him. Feeling agitated and out of sorts, I found myself wandering through the rooms, unable to settle to the tasks I needed to accomplish.
It seemed to me that whoever had placed my mother’s miniature on my pillow and taken my pendant was out to make trouble. To cause me pain and doubt by conjuring thoughts of my mother. Why they would do this—toy with her memory—I couldn’t answer. But as for the who . . . My thoughts immediately shifted to the woman in the blue cloak, whom I’d not seen again and had yet to identify.
Grateful Bree had chosen a walking dress for me that morning, I sent a maid for my bonnet and pelerine and set off down the drive in the direction I had seen the woman. She wasn’t there, of course, but I scoured the tree line for any sign of her passing—a trail, a broken twig. When this yielded no results, I continued walking, too exasperated to return to the manor. Part of me wanted to fling my bonnet to the ground and stomp on it while the other part of me simply wanted to sit down and weep. I knew some of my distress was the fault of my restless night and my worry over Emma—needless though Mrs. Mackay had told me it was—as well as all the unanswered questions we faced about Mairi’s death and the forgeries, but it was easier to seize on the loss of the necklace as my chief source of discontent.
Lengthening my stride, I set out for the shores of the loch, hoping my brisk pace would expend some of the anxious energy pulsing through my body and lull my frenzied thoughts into submission. The ground was wet from the previous night’s rain, dampening the hem of my gown, but I continued undaunted. Only when I reached the rocky shore of the sea loch did I stop just shy of the lapping tide.
I stood there for some minutes, my breath rasping in and out of my lungs and my thoughts continuing to spin frantically, until finally the pounding of my heart began to slow. Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes, allowing the sound of the waves rolling up onto the rocks to calm me. The gentle rippling of the water soothed something inside me, smoothing the jagged edges of my distress, much as it had smoothed the stones along the shore for thousands of years.
When I opened my eyes, I could see the green slopes of Eilean Rìgh in the distance. I stared across at its shore, comforted by the knowledge that the waves that continued to wash the rocks before me would eventually wash over it, and then the tip of the Craignish peninsula, and then farther out to sea to the ends of the earth. Its push and pull was one long, unending rhythm.
Not wanting to break the spell, I didn’t turn when I heard footsteps edging closer over the rough ground, as if their owner didn’t wish to startle me. Not until he was already at my side. Henry offered me a sheepish grin, his auburn hair ruffling in the breeze.
“My apologies if I’m disturbing you. Perhaps you wished to be alone?”
I took that to mean that my expression wasn’t particularly welcoming, and I strove to rectify it. “No. I was simply lost in thought. You’re more than welcome.”
He still eyed me doubtfully but moved a step closer.
“Did you wish to speak with me?” I asked, noting his lack of hat. Perhaps he’d seen me leave and stepped out of the manor to find me. Then I realized how early the hour still was. “Have you already finished searching Barbreck’s records?” The evening before, he’d said he still had at least several more hours of work to do before he was done.