“I have no idea, Miss Anstruther. I have no idea at all. But it’s damnably exciting, isn’t it?”
She laughed honestly for the first time since he’d known her and put a hand to her breast. “Can you tell me what sort of spell is written there?”
“No, not yet. It’s beautiful though. His hand was so elegant.”
Kate returned to her chair and took a long drink of wine. “I can tell you that from what I’ve read in the journal, the key you are holding is an object of extraordinary power.”
Simon and Nick and Imogen all looked at the key. It caught the golden light of the candles.
“What sort of power?” Simon asked.
Kate sat forward dramatically, resting on her elbows. “I have no idea.”
Simon waited for a better answer, then realized she was done. “What?”
“My father was a man of secrets too. He didn’t just write a simple note about the thing.”
Simon held up the key in front of his face. “Then how do we know it does anything?”
Kate sipped wine. “Would two such men work together on a mere piece of jewelry?”
“Well, I see clear evidence,” Simon said, “that they knew each other, and that your father has some of my father’s runic scribbling. But that they actually worked together on this key? We can’t say that for sure.”
Nick then grunted and held up one final sheet. It was a rough sketch of the key with runic symbols drawn on it.
“On the other hand,” Simon added.
It was a long dinner of animated discussion that provided no further clues to their parents’ association. Kate and Simon went through the journal page by page, continually exclaiming at notes and facets of Sir Roland’s work. She did notice that whenever the conversation went to Simon’s father and his life, particularly those years when he might have worked with Sir Roland, Simon would divert to another topic. It was deftly done, but Kate knew equivocation when she saw it. Clearly, he wanted to maintain secrecy about his father. At the end of it all, there was no consensus on what the key was or was not.
Finally, after many hours and candles nearly burnt to the silver sticks, Kate received word that Mrs. Tolbert needed to discuss certain issues. Kate suggested that Imogen should go to bed, given the stressful events of the day, but her request was ignored. The young woman seemed unaware of any stress and continued to hang on Simon’s every word with tired, drooping eyes. Simon recommended with a knowing wink that Kate attend her business, and he would entertain Imogen.
Kate rose from the table as port was poured for the two gentlemen. She found Mrs. Tolbert waiting patiently in the Blue Room. “We could go over ledgers later, Mrs. Tolbert.”
“It isn’t ledgers, miss. I need to know about Miss Imogen’s condition, so I can know how best to help her and you. You told me precious little when you brought her home.”
Kate felt the truth in the woman’s statement. “Of course, you’re right. This is not to go any further.” The housekeeper nodded. “Imogen has had a difficult time. It is likely that she has been ill-used by Colonel Hibbert.”
Mrs. Tolbert grew hard, eyes narrowing with anger. “If you’ll pardon my saying, your father would have something done about the man.”
“Something has been done. Colonel Hibbert is dead.”
The housekeeper regarded Kate with a look of respect but didn’t say more, merely waited.
Kate continued, “Our goal is to keep Imogen comfortable and calm. I have a special draught to relax her when needed. Treat her as you always would, but alert the staff that her behavior may be a bit odd.”
“Yes, miss. We’ll do everything needed for the poor angel.”
“I know you will, Mrs. Tolbert. Hartley Hall is likely to be a bit upside down for the immediate future. I appreciate all your efforts.”
“No matter, miss.” The housekeeper pushed her hands into her apron pockets. “It isn’t as if Hartley Hall hasn’t seen its share of upside-down days before.”
Kate watched the solid old woman trundle from the Blue Room and she felt as if the house was once again set right, as much as it could be. She returned to the dining room with a somewhat lighter heart and opened the door to an unexpected scene.
Simon stood in front of Imogen, who perched on her chair in complete concentration. He held a top hat upside down by the brim and waved his right hand over the open hat. He held it low enough that Imogen could peer inside. Beyond him, Nick leaned back in his chair, draining a large glass of port, with one foot against the table. Two serving maids, along with Barnaby the butler, stood behind Imogen’s chair, watching Simon with the attention of a hawk.