He thought grimly that he would tell his man to dispose of these clothes after this. He couldn’t imagine wearing them again.
He started the climb up the rock wall, his toes finding crevices as a foundation to hold him against the rock as his arms pulled one hand over the other on the rope, his shoulders burning. Dead weight was dead weight.
“Let us help,” Mr. Liddle called down. “As your feet find purchase, Norton, Henry, and I will help pull you up. Wrap your hands around the rope,” he suggested.
Lakehurst tried what Liddle suggested and found that easier. He walked up the wall to each tug on the rope. Near the top, Mr. Liddle grabbed on to Carlyle’s body, easing some of the weight off his shoulder so he could pull himself up the rest of the way. He collapsed at the top of the cliff, Carlyle’s body still tied to him.
Mr. Liddle swiftly cut the rope loose and he and Norton carried Carlyle to the wagon and heaved him into it.
Lakehurst laid there a moment, his muscles quivering. “Thank you,” he said when they returned.
With Cassie on one side and Mr. Liddle on the other, they got him to his feet.
“I never want to do that again,” he said, huffing, bending forward, his hands pressed against his knees.
Next to him, Cassie and Mr. Liddle laughed tightly. There were tears in Cassie’s eyes. “And I pray you won’t either,” she said.
“What’s going on?” demanded Mr. Stillworth as he rode up to them on MacKenzie, Lakehurst’s horse.
Lakehurst frowned and straightened. Sweat glistened on his horse’s body. He looked blown. He had been ridden hard. Lakehurst ground his teeth in silent vexation.
Stillworth looked in the farm cart. “Is that Carlyle? Is he dead?” He dismounted and tossed the reins to Henry.
“Yes,” Cassie said, tears coming to the fore again. She pulled Lakehurst’s jacket more snuggly about her.
Lakehurst stepped away from Liddle’s and Cassie’s support and stomped over to his horse. Without a word to anyone, he took the reins from Henry and walked MacKenzie to the barn, his jaw rigid.
“I say, what’s going on?” Stillworth asked, staring after Lakehurst. He turned to Cassie and Mr. Liddle. “And who are you?” he demanded, looking Mr. Liddle up and down.
“Harry Liddle,” Mr. Liddle said, offering no other information.
“Where have you been all day?” Cassie asked Stillworth.
“Riding around the estate, checking on the tenants, the mines, that sort of thing. I say, did you know the Graymore mine is no longer worked?”
“No.”
His brow furrowed in thought. “Well, it isn’t. Surprised me, as Richard always spoke about the popularity of the stone from that site for its color.”
“Edmund,” Cassie said angrily. “I’m sure of it—Oh, no! The study door is unlocked, and we left all that money on the desk!” She ran toward the castle.
“My lady!” Norton called after her. “Where do we take Carlyle?”
Cassie stopped and turned, thinking for a moment. She pushed wind-tossed hair strands away from her face. “To the old castle chapel!” she yelled back at them, then turned and continued running down the path to the castle.
* * *
Cassie returnedto the study in time to find Edmund hurriedly stuffing the last of the coins back in the leather pouch.
“Put that pouch down!” she ordered, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing fire at him.
“This is not yours,” he said sternly.
“Correct. It is the estate money which means it is not yours to take.”
“I am executor of the estate and in that role I shall take charge of the funds,” he declared, pushing past her.
He was stopped at the door by the presence of Mr. Liddle who had followed after Cassie.
