I straightened in my chair as Gage voiced the same question I was thinking. “Are you a member?”
“I am. Which reminds me . . .” He turned toward me eagerly. “Lady Darby, after you expressed so much interest in the location of Collingwood’s gold torc, I wrote to the society’s treasurer to discover whether there are any records of such a donation, and if so, where the artifact is currently stored. I should have done so the moment Lewis Collingwood darkened my door with his accusation, but how could I have known it would come to this?”
I exchanged a look with Gage.
“Now, let’s not be too hasty to rush to judgment,” he cautioned the earl. “Mr. Collingwood is our most promising suspect, but by no means do we have sufficient evidence to prove he is in any way involved. There are still numerous other avenues to explore.”
“Such as?” Buchan demanded, his brow darkening. He clearly did not appreciate being chastened.
“Well, for one, can you tell us whether any young ladies in the area have passed away recently?”
Buchan’s eyes widened at the question. “None that I’m aware of. Why?”
Gage shrugged his shoulders. “Just idle curiosity. Perhaps unrelated.”
I frowned, curious why he’d chosen not to tell the earl about the clothes we’d found in the abbey. When we exited the house a quarter of an hour later, it was the first thing I asked him.
“Sometimes it’s best to keep one’s cards close to one’s chest,” he answered obscurely, adjusting the angle of his hat on this head.
“You don’t trust him,” I persisted.
“I don’t know him well enough to decide whether to trust him.”
I nodded, thinking I understood his logic. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at my brother, walking on the other side of me, recalling how we had had a similar conversation just the evening before.
“And so in the meantime,” Gage added, “I intend for us to do all of our own questioning. Which means we shall be contacting the members of the Society of Antiquaries ourselves.”
So that we could be certain Lord Buchan was not omitting any pertinent information to our inquiry. I squinted against the bright sunlight as I made plans to once again call on Philip’s assistance. He knew everyone who was anyone in Scottish society, government, and industry. Surely he was acquainted with at least a few of the society’s members.
As we passed the corner of the manor to join the drive down which our carriage was parked, a dark-haired maid stepped out of the shadow of the building. The gravel crunched loudly as we halted in surprise. She eyed us warily, twisting the apron over her skirts, and for a moment I thought she would bolt. But then she inhaled deeply, as if finding her courage.
“My lady,” she murmured with a wobbly voice.
I nodded in encouragement, taking a step closer to her to separate us from the men. Even so, she studied them through the screen of her lashes over my shoulder. I sensed that she wished we were alone, and I was about to tell the men to go on ahead when she inhaled shakily again and spoke.
“Ye said if we remembered anythin’ else teh tell ye.”
“I did,” I confirmed, trying to place her in the crowd of servants gathered in the entry hall of Dryburgh House two days prior. I thought she might have been one of the small maids cowering in the back, perhaps nursing a thick head from all of the drinking the night before.
“Weel, I didna remember the other day, but then Tally, she’s another maid like me, ye ken.” I nodded, trying to follow her thick brogue as she began talking faster. “And, weel, we got teh talkin’, and we remembered we saw these lads doon at the abbey.”
My face must have shown my interest, for she hastened to add, “’Twas through the trees, ye mind, where we was beatin’ the rugs. And we didna ken they might be up teh trouble. Or we’d o’ said somethin’ for sure.”
“I understand,” I assured her. “When was this?”
“Hogmanay morn. We was hurryin’ to get our tasks done so we could go teh the ceilidh.”
I resisted the urge to turn and look at Gage and Trevor, who I knew must be sharing my anticipation, and focused on the maid. “How many men were there? Did you get a good look at them?”
She unwound and then twisted her apron again. “Two—that we could see.” She shook her head. “But we couldna see ’em weel. Though we did try.” She blushed. “They was very dashin’.”
“How do you mean?”
“They was dressed teh the nines. Even their horses were the prime article.”
I frowned. “You mean they were gentlemen?”
“Oh, aye.”
This was something I hadn’t been expecting. “You’re sure?”
She nodded in certainty and I thanked her and sent her on her way.
“What do you make of it?” I asked Trevor and Gage as we turned our steps toward the carriage again.