They stared at each other, neither wishing to consider the loss of the magnificent woman who was the beating heart of Cerensthorpe Abbey. Tabitha stared at Gulliver and decided, for now, to put Tamar’s suggestion of poisoning aside. If the opportunity arose to speak to the doctor, she would take it, but there was no proof and she did not want to cause more damage by making such an accusation.
‘In that case,’ said Tabitha, ‘we should try to solve the clue from the clock. The outcome might be the boost Edith needs to make a speedy recovery from whatever ails her.’
‘Do you have any thoughts?’ asked Gulliver.
‘I wonder if it’s linked to Wilbur’s first diary entry, when he wrote aboutThe Boke of St Albans – The Social Rank & Appropriate Bird for Rank,by Dame Juliana Berners, which was printed in 1486. The entry is unusual because all the others are about his secret double life.’
‘Auntie Edith told me about his affair,’ said Gulliver. ‘I was shocked, especially the last entry you gave us about his girlfriend dying and the baby being adopted by her mother’s family.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him, but she faltered; unable to tell Gulliver that if her theory was correct, he and his wife might be distant cousins.
‘What’s the clue?’ asked Gulliver and Tabitha pulled her phone from her pocket, searching for the words.
‘“Aerie, mantling, cadger and mews.
The bound home of the words for clues
Behind we wait, in the unknown space
Full of power and guile and grace”.’
Tabitha added, ‘these are all hawking terms. I wondered if the second line “The bound home of the words” could mean a book, theBoke of St Albans? It’s a long shot, but do you have a copy in the library?’
‘Not as far as I know, but there are a select few items in the scriptorium,’ said Gulliver. ‘After it was renovated, Edith put the older tomes in there. Do you think it could be another reference to the Yarrell?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘the Yarrell was linked to the magpies and the whistle. This says it is near an “unknown space”.’
‘The fabled hidden room?’ suggested Gulliver.
‘Exactly.’
‘We could check in the library,’ he said. ‘Edith’s idea of arranging the books logically is to sort them by who bought them. There are several shelves she always claimed were owned by Wilbur. We could see if any of his books fit with the final line: “Full of power and guile and grace”.’
He stood up and picked up the bottle and his glass.
‘Do you mean now?’ asked Tabitha.
‘Why not? We can drink in the library as easily as here,’ he said as her eyes widened in surprise.
‘But the books?’
‘It’ll be fine,’ he whispered, in a mock-conspiratorial tone, ‘I know the owner.’
Tabitha giggled.
‘Unless, of course, you’re planning to throw your wine up the walls,’ he continued, leading the way. ‘Then you’ll be restricted to a travel mug with a lid.’
‘Over there in the corner,’ said Gulliver, placing the wine and his glass on a large table in the centre of the room, ‘those are Wilbur’s shelves.’
Tabitha positioned her glass beside his, then followed him to the bookcases. The library was an odd shape, with angles in unexpected places, hidden alcoves and strange, secluded enclaves. Gulliver was already approaching one of the quirkier-shaped sections.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Tabitha. ‘It’s a very small collection. In his diary, he struck me as an intellectual.’
‘No, although his bluff worked,’ said Gulliver with a laugh. ‘Apparently, he liked to pretend he was a mild-mannered, bookish chap, but actually he was a proper hunting, shooting, fishing man. He also adored the bright lights of London. I think the most intellectual thing he ever did was keep that diary. His putting pen to paper was so out of character, it’s why Auntie Edie has always been convinced he did it for a reason – to lead us to the secret room.’
‘He does mention it,’ said Tabitha. ‘He states the expert from the British Museum insisted he should have a secure place to put the manuscript, so he built a space to house it safely.’
With great care, they examined the three bookcases. There were a number of classics: the complete works of Charles Dickens, William Thackeray, George Eliot, and to her surprise, Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters. However, none of these books looked as though they had ever been read. Next were sporting books, which were far more well-thumbed, but nothing pertaining to the clue.
