The next morning, Adam massaged the left side of his neck while leading Beelzebub from the inn back toward the ruins. The bed had been comfortable, if a bit narrow, but Mr. Barlow had proven a restless sleeper. His sporadic flailing had driven Adam to seek refuge on the floor in the dead of night. A stiff neck was the inevitable result. However, the attentions to his neck allowed him a moment to consider Jane without interruption. She seemed different this morning. The combative edge he had grown to expect seemed dulled, replaced by what he could identify only as warmth. Her altered demeanor puzzled him. The ever-present clouds had cleared to reveal a clear autumn sky, and the chill air wilted in the face of the formerly bashful sun. Perhaps that was the cause of her change.
As if sensing his turmoil, Jane slowed to allow him to draw alongside her. She smiled at him, immediately raising his suspicions. “Mr. Ashford. I take it the floor was not to your liking?”
“How did you know I slept on the floor?”
“An assumption. I cannot imagine two lanky bachelors sharing such a narrow bed. As you are rubbing your neck while Mr. Barlow seems perfectly refreshed, I assumed you were the one banished to the floor.”
“A good guess.” He massaged his neck a moment longer before dropping his hand. “I see that you, on the other hand, slept rather well.”
“How could you know?”
“An assumption. You have not said a cross word to me yet this morning.”
“Cross, you say?” Her lips formed the beginning of a pout. Then she laughed softly. “I suppose I deserve that. Point taken, sir.”
There it was again—Jane disregarding a perfect opportunity to engage him in verbal combat. He found it unnerving. His eyes widened as he thought of an explanation. Perhaps she had determined a way to turn everything to her advantage. What if the subtle change was part of a nefarious plan to ensure a favorable outcome for the Hancock family? He peeked at Jane to find her peering at him with question. He looked away quickly before her captivating expression could overcome his better judgment. After drawing a deep breath to clear his head, he arrived at a conclusion. He hoped the change was genuine but would watch his step, nonetheless.
As the ruins came into view, so did a small figure. Margaret met them on the crossroad intersecting the thoroughfare running alongside the ruins.
“You came back!” she said excitedly. “Do you have more questions?”
Adam tipped his hat to the girl. “Miss Margaret. Well met. And yes, we may have another question.” He turned to address Jane. “Shall we?”
“Of course.”
They retrieved their respective letters and unfolded them. Jane waited until Hester and Barlow joined the circle before reading. “Strike toward the land where the day comes undone.”
“A rise, a circumference, an army of stone.” He folded his letter and returned it to his coat pocket. “A land where the day comes undone. Another reference to Shakespeare, perhaps? Or Richard the Third? His day certainly came undone at Bosworth Field after he lost his horse.”
“Possibly so,” said Jane. She swiveled her head. “Which way does the old battlefield lie from here?”
Barlow pointed through the ruins. “More or less that way. It is a fair distance, though. Two hundred miles, I’d wager.”
Hester shook her head in contemplation. “Surely the writer of the letter did not bring us so carefully from Carlisle to Penrith only to launch us such a distance southward. I cannot believe Bosworth Field is our destination. The riddle must indicate something other than that.”
“Sound logic,” said Adam. “I imagine the next destination lies nearer at hand.”
He glanced aside to find young Margaret still waiting patiently for a question and the promise of a coin. She gazed intently at him, squinting from the rising sun. He inhaled a sharp breath as intuition seized him. He faced the sun and extended his left hand toward it. Then he lifted his right hand to point in the opposite direction. The sightline beyond his outstretched fingers revealed the crossroad that led away from the ruins.
“Jane.”
“Yes, Adam?”
“In your estimation, in which cardinal direction am I pointing with my right hand?”
Her eyes swept toward the direction indicated by his arm. “Given the position of the sun, I would say…” She stopped abruptly. Her eyes lit. “West! West! Where the sun sets in the evening! Where the day comes undone!”
Hester clapped with delight. “Of course! That makes much more sense. It aligns with the letter writer’s other clues. Subtle, but nearby.”
Adam let his arms fall. “My thoughts exactly.” He looked down again at the waiting girl. “Miss Margaret.”
“Sir?” Her eyes shone with anticipation.
He lifted his finger to point to the west. “What lies down that road?”
She pivoted to peer in the direction he indicated. Then she faced him, her sharp mind clearly at work. “How should I know? I am only seven. Perhaps my mother…”
With an anticipatory grin, Adam produced a coin. She giggled with delight.
