Where Love Has Gone Page 3

  Then Elaine lifted her gaze to his and Desmond caught his breath. Beneath perfectly arched brown eyebrows her eyes were a clear silver-grey, fringed with dark lashes. They were intelligent eyes, and they seemed to pierce the walls he kept about himself until she had found and touched the emptiness lurking in his deepest soul. Desmond was stunned. For a moment he could not speak, but only stare at her, while she withdrew her gaze from him to look at Cadwallon.

  “Sirs, I am glad, and most grateful to see you here.” Elaine’s low-pitched voice matched her eyes in clearness and intelligence.

  “Elaine, you miserable creature!” Lord Bertrand exclaimed, turning on her. “How dare you send a message to Royce without consulting me first?”

  “If I had consulted you,” Elaine said in her quiet voice, “you would have told me not to bother Royce, for you would soon find Aglise. But you haven’t found her, not in the weeks before I wrote to Royce, nor in all the time it has taken for my letter to reach him and for him to send these men here to look into her disappearance. I think I was justified in writing to him.”

  “Your writing suggested that I haven’t done all I might have done to learn where Aglise has gone,” Lord Bertrand insisted. “I never expected such disloyalty from a girl whom I took into my household, whom I have treated as my own daughter.”

  “He does have a point, Elaine,” Lady Benedicta said. “Your letter to Lord Royce was a slur upon Lord Bertrand’s honor. Surely, you know by now how important his honor is to him.”

  Desmond imagined a certain scornful twist to those last words, but Lady Benedicta’s face wore a bland expression, while Lord Bertrand was still glaring at Elaine in undisguised annoyance.

  Interesting, Desmond thought. I do believe the lady is not overly fond of her husband.

  “What I know,” Elaine declared in response to Lady Benedicta’s words, “is that my sister is still missing, after more than nine weeks of searching and worrying. I wrote to Royce because I thought she might have gone to him. I prayed he would write back to tell me Aglise was safe with him, or with our mother. But she isn’t, is she?” she asked of Desmond.

  “Royce has neither seen her nor heard from her,” Desmond confirmed. “Nor has Lady Irmina.”

  “Ah, but you have been on your journey for some time,” Lady Benedicta pointed out. “Perhaps you and Aglise passed each other along the way, neither knowing the other. She may even now be with Royce, or with her mother.”

  “No!” Elaine declared with remarkable vehemence for one who on the surface appeared to be meek and submissive. “You are wrong, my lady. And so are you, my lord Bertrand. Why can’t either of you see how serious this is? Something dreadful has happened to my sister. I know it. I can feel it. The knot in the pit of my stomach tells me Aglise is not safe and well. Something terrible has happened to her. With the help of these two men whom our godfather Royce has sent, I will discover what that something is. And if anyone has deliberately hurt Aglise, Royce and I, together, will see that person punished.”

  She was magnificent, an avenging angel willing to face down the devil himself for her sister’s sake. Desmond wondered how it would feel to have someone care so deeply about him. He shook his head, knowing it was impossible, telling himself he didn’t care, for he loved the business of spying, of ferretting out the very details that so many people tried to keep secret, details the king needed to know.

  A spy’s career was brief, almost always ending in a very painful death: hanged, drawn, and quartered. Desmond had known as much from the beginning, and had long ago made his peace with the work he did. And yet...how wonderful to be so loved, to have hope of a home and family and a happy future…

  “You are speaking foolishness,” Lord Bertrand chided her. “Silly, girlish foolishness. Aglise has left Jersey. It is the only reasonable explanation.”

  “You are quite possibly correct,” Cadwallon said to him. “That being the case, you won’t mind if Desmond and I retrace the paths you and your men took while you were seeking the girl. We are sworn to obey Royce’s command to search the entire island and to ask questions until we discover where Aglise is.”

  “It will be a waste of your time,” Lord Bertrand declared, frowning.

  “That is entirely likely, my lord,” Cadwallon agreed. “However, as I said, we are acting under Royce’s orders, so we have little choice in the matter.”

  “Then, do as you like,” Lord Bertrand said. “Just don’t interfere with my people as they carry out their routine duties.”

  “We wouldn’t dream of interfering in any way,” Cadwallon promised with a bright smile. “Now, my lord, I must confess, I am hungry beyond bearing and thoroughly tantalized by those delightful smells.”

  “Indeed,” said Lady Benedicta, “we are poor hosts to keep you standing here.” She laid a hand on Cadwallon’s arm and allowed him to escort her to the table.

  Desmond bowed to Elaine and offered his arm to her. He was eager to question her, to learn whatever she knew, or suspected, about her sister’s disappearance, and he wondered if she would confirm his newfound suspicions. He understood that she wasn’t likely to reveal anything important while Lord Bertrand and Lady Benedicta were near, since both of them had made clear their disapproval of the way Elaine had used her own initiative to call upon the best help available in locating her sister. He was going to have to find a way to question Elaine in private. He was pleased, and not at all surprised when Elaine herself provided the means he sought.

  Elaine picked at her food. Knowing what the dovecot was like, she didn’t care much for hot, roasted squab. In any case, she hadn’t been able to eat more than a mouthful or two of food at any one time since the day when Aglise disappeared. Now that Royce had sent his men to conduct their own search for her sister, she dared to hope they would find her. Alive, please God.

  From what she had seen of Royce’s emissaries, she approved of them. She didn’t believe for a minute that the huge, broad shouldered Cadwallon was as lazy and slow-witted as he appeared to be at first glance. Royce would never employ a stupid agent; therefore, Cadwallon’s slowness was a ruse.

  As for Desmond, Elaine did not delude herself that his slightly smaller size was a sign of weakness. The shoulders beneath his plain blue wool tunic were those of a well-trained swordsman and she had noticed the intent way he watched Lord Bertrand and Lady Benedicta. She was sure Desmond was clever and shrewd. She did find the emptiness behind his cool gaze to be both peculiar and disturbing.

  Elaine guessed that when dealing with such a man, she was going to have to be very careful. She doubted if Desmond would be hindered by gentle consideration of other people’s feelings. Always cool and calculating as spies must be, he would seek the truth almost as eagerly as she did. But until she knew him better she was not prepared to provide the entire truth as she knew it.

  “Let me begin my investigation at once,” said Desmond, as soon as he took the seat at her left side. “Do you know of anyone here at Warden’s Manor, or on the entire island, who dislikes your sister, or who might wish her harm?”

  “No one dislikes Aglise,” Elaine responded, perhaps too quickly, for she saw the way his gaze sharpened. But she couldn’t tell him everything – at least, not yet. Not until she could be absolutely certain he wouldn’t ruin Aglise’s good name. It was possible he could find Aglise without ever learning…

  “Did she have any particular friends?” Desmond persisted, breaking into her troubled thoughts.

  “She had me,” Elaine said. “I am my sister’s very best friend.”

  “Then, you will no doubt be of great help to us.” The look he gave her was too intense for Elaine’s comfort.

  “If you plan to begin by riding over the island in search of her, I know Jersey fairly well,” she said, “and I will gladly show you all the places Aglise liked to visit. If, of course, Lady Benedicta will grant me leave to accompany you.”

  “I believe I can convince her.” A faint smile curved Desmond’s mouth, as i
f for some private reason of his own he was pleased by her suggestion.

  For the next hour Elaine listened with growing respect to the scrupulously polite way in which Desmond dealt with Lord Bertrand and Lady Benedicta. He offered subtle hints that the sooner he and Cadwallon set about their investigation, the sooner they would both be gone from Jersey, leaving Warden’s Manor and its lord and lady in peace. Not by a single word or glance did he suggest that he thought either of them was withholding knowledge about Aglise.

  So effective was Desmond that when the meal was over and Elaine followed her foster mother up the stairs to the solar, Lady Benedicta did not stipulate any course of action to Elaine, only noting that she ought to be circumspect in what she revealed to the two men.

  Elaine fought the impulse to state bluntly that she would never say anything to Aglise’s detriment, for she understood some things were better left unspoken. As was her habit, she bit back the words she knew would be unwise, and meekly bowed her head, and thanked Lady Benedicta for her permission to ride out with the men the next morning.

  Elaine slept well for the first night since Aglise had vanished. Royce’s men, merely by their presence, had removed some of the burden she had been carrying for more than two months.

  Chapter 3

  Early though Elaine was in reaching the hall the next morning, Desmond and Cadwallon were there before her. Desmond was pacing around the hall with an air of impatience while Cadwallon, looking completely relaxed, was sprawled on a bench chewing on a hunk of bread and occasionally drinking from the cup of ale he held in one hand. He glanced with approval at Elaine’s cloak, ankle-length skirt, and sturdy boots.

  “Have you broken your fast?” Desmond asked her, frowning.

  “I am ready to leave,” she responded crisply. Indicating the linen-wrapped bundles she carried, she added, “I stopped in the kitchen. I’ve brought bread and cheese, raisins and dried apples, and a flask of wine, so we won’t have to return at midday. We can stay out until dusk if you want.”

  “Good thinking, my lady,” said Cadwallon, grinning at her. He set down his cup and rose to take the bundles from her hands. “Riding always makes me hungry. I’ll just slip these packages into our saddlebags and then we can be on our way.”

  The squires had saddled the horses and stood waiting in the bailey. Elaine rode astride, her hiked-up skirt revealing the heavy woolen hose she wore to keep her legs from chaffing.

  “Clever girl,” said Cadwallon with a smile of approval for her sensible garb. After helping Elaine into the saddle, he seized the reins of his own horse from Ewan, then mounted and turned toward the gate.

  Desmond was conversing with his squire. While Elaine waited for him, she was able to overhear part of what they said, beginning with the squire’s insistence that he ought to accompany his master.

  “You are to stay here, Richard,” Desmond ordered. “I want you and Ewan to continue asking questions of the servants and the other squires.”

  Elaine’s horse began to prance just then, out of eagerness to be moving, and she was hard put to control the beast, so she heard no more of Desmond’s instructions to Richard.

  They rode through the gate and onto the path that dipped toward the bottom of the ridge on which the manor house sat. When the path split in two, with one fork continuing down the slope into Gorey village, they took the other fork, the rough track that climbed north and west. Around them spread the rugged, sometimes precipitous landscape, with the sea far below them on their right. Any streams ran southward, to the lower land and into the sea, gradually cutting ravines as they went.

  The three riders eventually reached a point on the track where they were able to look directly across to the manor. Elaine thought she could appreciate how the view appeared to the two men, for she and Aglise had occasionally stopped during their rides together to reflect on the surprisingly formidable structure. The manor was built of solid stone and the high wall around it contained few openings, though on such an island, there was little need for protection from invaders. Anyone approaching Jersey could be seen for miles.

  Suddenly, as if to defy the weight of all the stone, a pigeon flew up from the courtyard and headed eastward over the sea, toward Normandy. Elaine smiled to see it and wondered if the bird felt a sense of freedom.

  Below the manor, Gorey village clung to a strip of land between the sea and the lowest slope of the hill. A few boats were drawn up on the beach and, beyond them, the sea lay impossibly blue and glittering in the April sunshine. Elaine noticed a few fishing boats in the distance, riding on the gentle swells.

  “I hadn’t appreciated how high the land is,” Desmond said from where he sat his horse close beside her.

  “Most of this northern side of the island is upland that ends in cliffs,” Elaine explained. “There are some beaches at the bottom of the cliffs, but they are difficult to reach and the tides are so treacherous that almost no one ventures there. Lord Bertrand sent men-at-arms to search for Aglise down on the beaches in case she had fallen off the cliff, but they found no sign of her and one search party was almost swept away when the tide came in. They barely escaped with their lives. After that, Lord Bertrand refused to risk his men again. I think he was right to search elsewhere. If you want safer beaches, hidden coves, places where a small boat might land, you will have to look on the southern shore.”

  As they rode along Elaine noticed Cadwallon casting a knowledgeable eye on the plowed fields, where large swaths of the interior of the island were cleared for farming. The open areas were dotted with small, but well-kept houses. The pale green of newly sprouted wheat and barley, the pink buds on the apple trees, and the yellow-green or reddish tinges of unfurling leaves in the forested areas all added delicate springtime color to the scene. The sky was clear blue, misty along the distant horizon, and the breeze from the sea was soft, for the hour was still early.

  Elaine was used to the landscape. She was much more intrigued by Desmond, though she struggled against the attraction she felt toward him. Desmond would very likely think she was a dreadful person to be taking pleasure in a man’s presence when she ought to have nothing on her mind except finding her sister.

  He could not possibly be as aware of her as she was of him. Having grown up with a beautiful mother and an equally lovely sister, she was accustomed to being ignored by men. She was, therefore, surprised and pleased when Desmond drew nearer and looked at her intently. She trembled a little under his close examination of her very ordinary face. His gaze lingered on her mouth for a moment, before he looked directly into her eyes.

  “Tell me about your sister,” he ordered. “If we are to find Aglise, we’ll need to know as much as possible about her.”

  “She’s very beautiful,” Elaine began, telling herself she should have known he wasn’t interested in her. He was only doing the job he had been sent to Jersey to do. “Aglise has golden hair—”

  “So everyone says,” Desmond interrupted her attempt at further description. “I want to know about her character. What is she like?”

  “Aglise is a good girl,” Elaine stated firmly. “She is kind-hearted and loving and she would never hurt anyone. She is the very best of sisters.” She fell silent, searching her memory for information that Desmond would think was useful.

  “What we are trying to do,” said Cadwallon, prompting her to reveal more, “is determine whether anyone could have a reason to wish harm to her.”

  “Aglise has no enemies. Everyone loves her.” It wasn’t exactly true, but Elaine wasn’t ready to provide a pair of strangers with any details that would reflect badly on her sister.

  “A beautiful young woman, however well-behaved and innocent she may be, can become the object of excessive, perhaps even dangerous, affection.” Desmond spoke slowly, as if he was choosing his words with great care. “If two men should happen to desire the same woman, it’s not unheard of for them to become jealous.”

  “Do you think because I am plain to look upon and of a qu
iet disposition, I don’t know how men and boys react to feminine beauty?” Elaine demanded, stung by the way he had looked so closely at her and then, apparently, rejected her in favor of asking questions about her sister that she found much too intimate. “I do have eyes, Sir Desmond; I am aware of what happens around me.”

  “I believe what Desmond is suggesting,” said Cadwallon, speaking in his mild and lazy way, “is that, without Aglise herself inviting the attention, someone could become so passionately devoted to her that he might take her away somewhere and perhaps keep her confined, in order to have her to himself, or to force a marriage with her. Passion can be an odd thing.”

  “So I have observed,” Elaine said, glaring at Desmond. “I repeat; no one wishes harm to my sister.”

  “Very well, then,” Desmond said. “You claim Aglise is sweet-natured, kind-hearted, and a friend to all. Tell us about her friends.”

  “I am Aglise’s best friend.”

  “So you have said, and I do believe you. But a girl possessing so fine a character must have other friends beside her sister. What about Lady Benedicta? Does she like Aglise well enough to be called a friend?”

  “I – suppose so.” Elaine hoped he hadn’t noticed her slight hesitation. In case he had noticed, she added, “It’s difficult to know what Lady Benedicta thinks or feels.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Desmond agreed. “What about Lord Bertrand?”

  “He has been like a father to us since our own father died,” Elaine said. “They were great friends when they were boys. I remember Lord Bertrand’s visits to Dereham and how glad Father always was to see him.” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away.