“Not at all. The sooner I convince you there is no evidence, the better.”
* * *
It was an understatement to say that doors opened for Brentworth. They swung wide as he approached. Davina looked for peepholes or windows that might be used to identify visitors before they arrived so appropriate deference could be shown to a duke.
No one questioned why he brought a companion. She assumed they didn’t dare. Even the most supercilious functionary would be intimidated by the arrogance that Brentworth wore even more comfortably than his coats, and his garments fit him very well indeed.
They made their way to a gentleman prepared to assist them. Brentworth explained that they wanted to examine the records regarding inheritances. “Scottish peers,” he added.
“We have a copy of the records from the Lord Lyon. I will bring them.”
Ten minutes later, Davina stood by his side while he paged through a large book of bound sheets of parchment on which were written the history of various titles down through time.
Some had next to the last name listedTitle in abeyanceorTitle attaintedorTitle extinct.
“Here it is,” Brentworth said.
Davina read the row of names. She’d had no idea the title was four hundred years old, or that the first baron had come from the Highlands. Around two hundred years ago, a MacCallum had purchased the estate, and hence the barony, as could be done in Scotland. The ancestors of the last baron ran down the page. Below his name, someone had writtenpredeceased by James, his son and heir, who died in 1745, recorded and buried St. Thomas Church.
“That is the parish church near Teyhill,” Brentworth said.
“That must refer to my grandfather.”
“It says his death was recorded by the church.”
She battled the disappointment dragging down her heart. “I don’t think that means much. It was put out that he died. It may have been recorded that way, so the story made sense.”
“It says there is a grave.”
His tone, almost gentle, caused her to look from the page to his face. Their joint examination of the tome meant they stood very close to each other, and now she noticed how he warmed her side. His expression arrested her attention. Not so hard now. Not triumphant. He almost appeared disappointed too.
She gazed again at the page in order to break the peculiar connection she felt with him. What an odd moment for that little bridge to appear, in this dusty chamber of all places, while searching out evidence to disprove each other. Yet she could not deny that for a few moments she had experienced his presence like that of a friend. And also something else. The short span of air between them trembled with a rare vitality.
“It is odd he was buried at the church. There is a family graveyard on the property,” she said.
“You know that, do you? Have you been there?”
It had been an unfortunate slip. “Once. With my father. We were nearby and ventured to see what it was.”
“When was this?” No longer so friendly. Not gentle at all. Yet, oddly, that tremor did not cease so quickly. If anything, it grew stronger.
“I was perhaps seventeen. Maybe a year or so younger.”
“You trespassed, no matter when it was.”
“Because it should have been ours, trespass is the wrong word. We disturbed nothing and did not dally. We did not enter the house.” Memories of that day came more clearly. “My father wanted to, but he realized the house was inhabited. Visitors, he said, or members of your family.”
Silence fell beside her, an utter void of sound, as if he had disappeared. She looked over and realized he had, in a spiritual way. All his sight turned inward. The firmness in his face had slackened. No tremors between them now. Utter stillness instead, as if the air froze in place.
He appeared . . . lost.
“Anyway,” she continued, pretending she had not noticed, “we left quickly and never entered the graveyard. Yet, if the son and heir died, that is where he should be, I think. Not at the church.”
“I will go to see.” His voice sounded normal. She looked over and saw he was himself again.
“He will not be in either place, because he did not die.”
“More likely he will be. It is time to find out. I will set out at week’s end. Let us depart this dusty place. You have seen all there is to see.”
