However, two fruitless days of searching turned up nothing. We could find no evidence that any of the other local graveyards had been disturbed by body snatchers in recent years. We even stopped by the tiny cemetery in Elwick, though I insisted I would have noticed if anything there was amiss. I showed Gage my parents’ graves, and we spent a long time talking under the branches of the old oak standing sentinel over their final resting places.
More often than not, it was just Gage and I who made these excursions. Trevor would excuse himself, saying he had estate matters to attend to, but sometimes there was a look in his eyes that made me wonder if there was more to his absence than that. Regardless, I was pleased to see that my brother seemed to trust Gage, or that at least he was giving him the benefit of the doubt, for my sake.
And Gage was giving him no reason to regret it. True to his professed intentions, he behaved like a proper suitor. Well, most of the time. He did sneak in a kiss here and there. But I would have expected no less. And truth be told, I would have been disappointed had he not.
They were lovely, golden days, and even our lack of progress in the investigation did not dim my quiet joy. But they would not last forever.
It was late in the afternoon, and Gage and I had just returned from our walk to Elwick. The sun hung low in the sky behind us, casting long shadows on the road in front of us. I remarked on the odd flatness of the sky that evening, wondering if we might receive a dusting of snow soon.
Trevor heard us come in, and emerged from his study as I was removing my cloak. I could tell from the look on his face that something had happened.
“Trevor, what is it?”
He lifted a folded piece of paper. “It’s from Lord Buchan. He’s received a ransom note.”
? ? ?
“Just two days. That doesn’t give us much time,” my uncle exclaimed, pacing back and forth before the hearth in Lord Buchan’s drawing room. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him more agitated.
Gage looked up from his perusal of the ransom note. “I would surmise that was intentional.”
“Do they honestly expect Lord Buchan to have that much cash readily available on such short notice?” Uncle Andrew bellowed. “It’s preposterous.”
“Do you?” I asked the earl, who had sunk into one of the Chippendale chairs next to the wall of windows looking out on the lawn. Cold rain drummed against the glass, accented by the sharp ping of sleet.
He looked up from his dejected perusal of the Aubusson rug. “I do.”
Uncle Andrew grumbled under his breath, but did not cease pacing. I suspected he was more agitated by the fact that such a crime was being committed in his jurisdiction than anything else.
“Under the circumstances, that’s a very good thing,” Gage said, handing me the note where I perched on the settee in front of where he stood. I ran my fingers over the paper. It was made from very good stock, though embellished with no markings. I opened it to read it while the conversation continued to flow around me.
“Why? You’re not actually going to pay the ransom?” Uncle Andrew said.
“How else am I going to get my uncle’s remains returned to me?” the earl argued.
Quality paper it might have been, but the handwriting was atrocious. I didn’t know whether this was an attempt by the sender to disguise his identity or the general state of his penmanship. I suspected a mixture of both. The words were sloped and cramped, and the grammar was generally good, but here and there a word choice or phrase seemed off. Another thinly veiled effort at concealment, or the writing of a less educated man?
“That will be Lord Buchan’s decision to make,” Gage interjected, rounding the settee to sit down beside me. “But either way we are going to be there to meet that horse in two days’ time, and we are going to at least make the thieves think we’re paying the ransom.”
The earl frowned. “What do you mean?”
Gage leaned forward over his knees. “The ransom note has given us very specific instructions. We’re to place the money in two leather satchels and strap them to a horse that will be waiting for us at Shotton Pass. But I’m not about to send that horse on its way and not attempt to follow.”
“But they said they’ll be watching. That they’ll know if we try to track the horse.”
“How exactly? If they can see us, then we’ll also be able to see them.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“My lord, this may be our only chance to catch these men, to bring Dodd’s killers to justice,” Gage argued, sitting taller in his seat. “Had they merely stolen your uncle’s body, I might be more open to persuasion. But they’ve already proved themselves willing to commit murder. And given the fact that they’ve likely done this before, and are apt to do so again in the future, I think it’s imperative that these men be apprehended before they can cause more harm.”
“So you think these are the same men who ransomed Sir Colum Casselbeck’s body?” I asked.
There was a deep well of restrained anger behind his eyes. “Yes. The planning and the pattern of movements are too similar. Though they have moved the timetable up a bit. The Casselbecks had almost a week to gather their ransom money.”