Finally she turned back toward the forest. When she did, she swore she saw a shadow shift in the trees.
“Rosalind!” she called one last time, but the shadow was gone.
Welcher Mensch ist unter euch, der hundert Schafe hat und, so er der eines verliert, der nicht lasse die neunundneunzig in der Wüste und hingehe nach dem verlorenen, bis da? er’s finde?
LUKAS 15:4, LUTHER BIBLE (1912)
What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?
LUKE 15:4, KING JAMES VERSION (1611)
CHAPTER 45
_____
“It’s very odd,” Lucas said as the jet prepared to take off from Biggin Hill. He was across the aisle from Quenby in a leather recliner the color of silver birch.
“Evan didn’t seem to think our visit was odd at all. He was spending a few days near Brighton and wanted to speak with me about the story.”
Lucas continued his rant. “But how did he know you were in Newhaven?”
“Chandler told him.”
“Brighton was just an excuse. He came down to see you.”
She took one last sip of her London Fog before Samantha swept the cup away. “Chandler said he’d taken an unusual interest in this story.”
“Obsessive might be more accurate.”
“Like Mr. Knight?”
“No—Mr. Knight’s interest is more like a calling. I think you uncovered something that’s worrying Evan Graham.”
“Intrigued is what he said. He asked me to report what I find directly to him instead of Chandler.”
“Which you’re not going to do—”
“Of course not. Until my story’s reinstated, I won’t be reporting anything about it to him.”
“If it is reinstated, how are you going to write it without mentioning Brigitte?”
“I don’t know,” she said. The lines between the Terrell story and the Rickers had blurred in her mind now, Brigitte like a zipper holding them together. “It’s all so confusing.”
“Indeed,” he said. “You once told me I had to earn your trust, and I think you’re absolutely right. Evan needs to earn your trust as well.”
“Do you know Evan?” she asked.
“I’ve never met him, but I know about him. He’s from an old London family.”
She’d never heard Evan talk about his family in their meetings, but he certainly had the air of one who’d been rooted in superiority, like Lucas had acted when she first met him.
Evan’s father, Richard Graham, had started a small newspaper called the London News after the war to support the recovery of their country. Back then, Chandler once told her, the Graham family hadn’t been as concerned about making money. They’d wanted to stitch back together what had been frayed by the war.
Quenby glanced out the window, at the brick chapel near the terminal. It was a memorial, Lucas had told her, for the RAF and civilian men and women killed here during the war. How strange to think that bombs were raining down on this place seventy-five years ago. That some people today could still remember them falling.
The plane sped down the runway and the wheels lifted. In seconds they were climbing above the outskirts of London and then soaring over the gardens and woods of Kent.
“Look out this window,” Lucas said, motioning for Quenby to join him across the aisle.
When she scooted to the seat opposite him, Samantha scolded her from the front of the plane. “You’d better find that seat belt right away.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Quenby snapped it. “Seat belt is on.”
“Splendid.” Samantha looked back down at the magazine in her lap.
The jet flew low over trees until the forest flattened into lawn. They were above a grand house now with its austere stone facade, a dozen chimneys, and two wings that rambled down each side of the main house, the slate roof sloping down toward garden walls and a swimming pool with a stone pool house.
“Is that Breydon Court?” Quenby asked, glancing at Lucas. He was grinning.
“The very one.”
“It’s bigger than I imagined.”
“The Rickers were quite influential in their day,” Lucas said.
“I read that Lady Ricker stopped coming here after the war. She settled into their town house in London and became somewhat of a recluse.”
Lucas placed his laptop on the coffee table between them, the screen open. “How many children did she have by then?”
“Two—Anthony and Louise. Louise was born a few months after Lord Ricker died.”
“Perhaps she decided to focus on raising her children?”
“Perhaps . . .” But Lady Ricker didn’t seem like the type of woman who would prize motherhood. “Mrs. Douglas showed me a picture of Anthony Ricker when I visited her. When he was younger, he looked exactly like Eddie Terrell.”
“You think they were having an affair?”
“I’m fairly certain of it.”
Lucas sighed. “I wonder if Anthony Ricker ever found out.”
“That’s not a conversation I’d like to have with his children.”
“Was Lord Ricker the father of Louise?”