Adam numbly agreed with her assessment. “It would seem so. We have been duped twice over and ruined as a result.”
Mrs. Byrd’s whispering drew his attention. She stared fixedly at the ceiling, her lips mouthing the lines from the letters. Then she erupted to her feet.
“No! Not a lie! Not a ruse!” Her voice quivered with epiphany.
Miss Hancock grabbed her hand. “Auntie. What do you mean?”
“Don’t you see, Jane? The letters are not fabrications. They are two parts of the same letter! In Latin,initiummeans start andsequiturmeans follow.”
Adam’s curiosity drove him toward Jane’s aunt. “Please explain, Mrs. Byrd.”
Hester began reciting breathlessly, interleaving lines. “Liverpool, Leeds, a fortress unseen. Edinburgh, Glasgow, the castle between. A cross to denote the point to set sail. An arrow revealing the start of the trail.”
Adam’s stomach flipped as chaotic thoughts rampaged through his mind. The lines rhymed. Two parts of the same letter. Four cities, not two. Dared he hope? Miss Hancock seemed just as taken with the notion as she whispered the lines. Then her hand flew to her mouth in astonishment. She knew something. He gripped her wrist most indecorously.
“What are you thinking, Miss Hancock?”
She peered up at him with wide eyes. “A map. We need a map of Britain.”
Barlow pointed to the wall. “Just there.”
Without a word, she stripped away the pair of ribbons holding her hair in place. Long locks unwound to drape across her back and shoulders, full and soft, the color something akin to intractable mud. No, he amended. More like freshly turned earth left in the wake of the plow before spring planting. He shook his head vigorously to remind himself that she was still a Hancock, and therefore, quite beneath his attention. Meanwhile, she hurried to the map.
“Mr. Barlow, if you please.” She offered the solicitor a ribbon. “Stretch this between Edinburgh and Liverpool.”
Barlow accepted the ribbon and did as she instructed. Adam stepped nearer, his curiosity raging. Miss Hancock wove her arms between Barlow’s and stretched the other ribbon between Glasgow and Leeds. Then she cocked her head toward Adam triumphantly.
“Where do the ribbons cross?”
He stepped toward the map, incredulous. “Carlisle.” He glanced at her and then the map again. “A cross to denote the point to set sail!”
“Of course,” breathed Barlow. “Carlisle! That makes sense.”
Jane peered up at him expectantly. “How so?”
He removed the ribbon from the map and pressed a finger to Carlisle. “The rebellion of ’45. The one that sent your forefathers fleeing from Scotland. Do you know where it was that the rebels crossed the border?”
Adam shrugged. “Carlisle?”
“Yes! Carlisle. Not only that, it is home to Carlisle Castle.”
“The castle between?”
“Yes. And if one were fleeing an advancing force with, say, sixty-four hundred guineas as cargo, where might one start a map?”
“Carlisle Castle!” cried Miss Hancock. She faced Adam with unbridled excitement. Her eyes locked with his before she apparently remembered the adversarial nature of their relationship. Her joyous smile faded to grim determination. “If one were to find the hidden gold, Carlisle would most certainly be the place to begin.”
Adam placed a forefinger to his lip in contemplation and gave birth to an idea that might save his land. And save Miss Hancock, not that he cared.
“See here. What if we offer Rutley a compromise?”
She cocked her head, clearly intrigued. “What do you suggest?”
“What if we ask for the winter to find the gold? When we do, we split it equally between us and make partial payments toward our debts as a show of good faith. We set aside enough to ensure survival until the next harvest. Rutley might be persuaded to refrain from calling in our debts until then.”
Miss Hancock nodded, her face painted with skeptical hope. “Mr. Barlow, do you think Mr. Rutley would accept such an offer?”
Barlow frowned in consideration. “Perhaps. Perhaps. Rutley is a hard man. However, I believe you should offer the compromise.”
