“Good evening, Mr. Archer, sir. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Nickerson.” Simon exited and handed out Kate. “How is your good wife, and your son?”
“Well, sir. Thank you.” The footman grinned at the attention.
“Gratified to hear it.” Simon turned to meet the butler and housekeeper, who waited on the steps but were obviously so eager they would have come out if it had been proper. They were both fit and likely in their early forties.
“Good evening, sir.” The butler bowed. “Good to have you back.”
“Winston!” Simon grabbed the man’s hand and shook it so that the exertion created a slight wince of pain. “And Mrs. Winston. Thank you both for your efforts. The place looks splendid.”
The butler bowed and the housekeeper curtsied. The woman’s eyes were on Simon and she put a handkerchief to her face, suppressing tears. Winston turned to his wife kindly, and said, “Perhaps you should see to dinner.”
“Very well,” she muttered and hurried away.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Winston said. “She’s very upset about the incident with Mrs. Archer.”
Simon shook his head graciously and led Kate through the grand door. He stared around at the stone-walled entryway, open to the vaulted ceiling with a heavy iron chandelier aglow with a covey of lit candles. The vast foyer was dim and only slightly warmer than outside. The flagstones were rough and uneven.
“It seems rather spartan for a magician’s lair,” Kate said, as servants collected coats and hats. “Where are the skulls and jars of herbs and tomes of runic spells?”
“Warden Abbey was the home of the Archers. My mother’s family was distinctly unmagical, in all ways. I thought it sociable to confine my mystical activities to a room in the turret. Otherwise, this is a normal country home that used to be a medieval monastery. So if you’ve ever admired the comfortable way of life of the Cistercian monk, prepare to be disappointed.” Simon turned to the butler, standing a few steps away. “Winston, after Miss Anstruther settles in, we shall reconvene for dinner if that’s convenient?”
“Indeed it is, sir. We’ve laid a fire in the great hearth and it’s warmed up nicely.”
Kate followed a maid toward a set of narrow stairs winding upward and on to her private accommodations along a dim corridor. She freshened up in the chilled room, lit by a single oil lamp. The view from the frosted window was of a dark, foreboding forest creeping so close that spindly branches nearly tapped the thick glass. Neither the house nor the grounds had the vivacity and strange luster of Hartley Hall. Craving Simon’s company and a warm fire, she went downstairs.
She found Simon in a large room that once must have been a great hall. A long table was set for a small dinner and Simon stood with Winston next to a blazing stone fireplace along one wall. The two men were in close conversation, which Simon broke off to seat Kate before taking the chair at the head of the table. “Please, have a bite to eat. It’s been a long day, and it may be a long night. Winston, tell Miss Anstruther what you were just telling me.”
Kate’s appetite had vanished in the coldness of her room, but now that there was food in front of her, she began to eat. It had been a day of hard travel.
The butler stood next to Simon’s chair, hands behind his back, and said, “I was relating our discovery of the dreadful event. It came to my attention through one of the groundskeepers, a fellow named Greene, relatively new here. He was inspecting the grounds and noticed something odd about Mrs. Archer’s grave, which he brought to my attention.”
Kate noted the respect in the man’s voice, and his use of “missus” even though Simon’s mother was never married and was an Archer by birth. Simon was frozen in contemplation, staring at the untouched food in front of him.
Winston continued, “Her grave appeared to have been disturbed. The earth was unsettled.”
“Was her casket disinterred?” There was a cold distance in Simon’s voice that made Kate’s heart ache.
“Not when we saw it, sir.”
Kate asked, “Could it have been dogs digging?”
“No, miss. It appeared to me that the grave had been exhumed, then refilled.”
“Are you sure her body is still present?” Simon asked with odd directness.
The butler’s glance flicked uncomfortably to his master. “We dug deep enough to find the coffin. However, we were unwilling to open it without your presence. I hope you understand, sir.”
“Of course, Winston.” Simon ran a hand through his hair. “I appreciate your efforts. I’ll want to see this Greene.”
“Of course, sir. Shall I have a lantern and your coat ready? Will you go down to the grave later?”
Simon sat with his eyes down on the tabletop. Kate had never seen him frozen by indecision before. It was stunning, even frightening. He remained motionless for several minutes. Finally, he nodded.