He nodded. “Apparently, we shall see a tree with at least seven branches.”
She thought a moment. “Trees change a lot in one hundred and fifty years.”
His eyes widened. “Yes, I hadn’t thought of that. However, if it is a big tree, then perhaps it will be easy to figure out. The branch will simply be longer and thicker.”
“But as the tree has grown, the branch will have moved upward, will it not?”
Grayson made a sound of exasperation, but he only shrugged.
“It will make no matter. Our coordinates will still be the same. We may simply have to look up higher than expected. It says we’re looking for a death’s head. How many of those can there be in a tree?”
She shivered again. “Hopefully not too many!”
He stood, reached for her hand, and drew her to stand beside him.
“I shall keep you safe.”
They were standing too close, and the library door was agape.
“When shall we go?” she asked, staring up at him, ready for anything, as long as they were together in this adventure. “Is it far?”
He didn’t answer. He was staring at her mouth.
“Grayson? Is it far?”
His gaze rose to hers.
“Is what far?”
“Don’t tease me,” she scolded.
“All right.” He winked at her, and something inside her did a strange twitch. “We have to go by foot as there is no road or even cart path wide enough. I hate to say it, but since my mother’s excursion took up the day and the light is waning, we ought to find a spyglass and the rest of the supplies today and start early tomorrow. Maybe we could pack a picnic to eat at the bishop’s hostel.”
“That’s a grand idea. And so we are prepared, how do you propose we shoot something from the skull’s left eye?”
He considered. “We could let gravity do its work and simply drop something straight down to mark the spot.”
“Very well. Then we need some twine or….” She paused and clapped her hands again. “Yarn. Lady Angsley knits and does needlework. She must have tons of spun wool.”
“No need to bother her,” he said. “I’ll get a rope or string. In fact, if you can arrange a picnic, I’ll get everything else.”
“How shall we transport it all?”
“Don’t you worry, Miss Eleanor. I shall amaze you with what I can scare up. By tomorrow, you shall be on the devil’s seat, searching for a death’s head.”
She had to contain a squeal of sheer delight.
It was a Gothic novel come to life, and even better with Grayson as her companion in mystery.
*
Their plans fellapart entirely just before dinner. When the Angsleys, along with Grayson and Eleanor, were gathered in the drawing room, a messenger came from Turvey House.
Lord Angsley read it, then looked up with a smile. “Good news. John is entirely recovered, and Lady Margaret is….”
When he hesitated, Gray felt Eleanor tense with worry even though she was seated across the drawing room from him.
“How is she?” Eleanor prompted.
