Grateful, Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “It is helpful. Thank you, Briggs.”
He walked along the drive toward the house. The left path his mother had taken led through the woods to the east boundary, and about five miles beyond it lay the Stanton estate. Would his mother have ridden that far to see her friend, Mrs. Stanton, with a storm threatening? Could something have happened to her there, which had been subsequently covered up? Although his gut tightened with impatience, it was too late for a social call. He would visit the Ridgeways tomorrow and ask to see the bones.
That evening, Jack sat by the fire nursing a brandy. He knew he wouldn’t sleep. After supper, he left the house with his father’s old spaniel, Honey, at his side, still eager for a hunt. They ventured out under the full moon, the air cold and still. While Honey searched for a creature disturbing the bushes, Jack strolled on, deep in thought. Should tomorrow bring closure to the nagging mystery of his mother’s disappearance, it would also bring some level of peace for Jack, which sadly, had been denied his father.
The next day, Jack rode out after luncheon, having decided it was best to call at a reasonable hour. He needed Mr. Ridgeway in anamenable mood to receive him to grant his odd request.
Jack followed the route his mother would have taken to the boundary of their property. He rode through the break in the hedge and out onto the road that led to the village. Over on the opposite side of the road, the paddocks were enclosed with hedgerows. Would she have shortened her journey with the storm brewing by jumping her horse over the hedges? He had been told that his mother had been an accomplished horsewoman.
Several miles on, Jack entered the gates of Ridgeways’ estate. The property had been well kept and was in the process of renovation. Beyond the trees of the park, Jack spied the half-built summer house near an ornamental lake. This must have been where they’d found the remains. His heart began to thump. Could this possibly be his mother? Or was he clutching at straws? And yet somehow he knew as he rode up to the house, which had been built around the time of George I.
Jack dismounted as a groom stood ready to take the reins from him.
Having no doubt, heard him ride in, Mr. Ridgeway greeted him from the doorway. “Good day, Lord Hereford. Your note stated you wish to know more about the remains found by the lake.”
“I would like to see them, sir. If you’ll permit? Are they still here?”
Ridgeway stepped down off the porch. “The magistrate has viewed them, but further inquiries must be made as to who it might be before they can be moved. May I ask why you express some interest in them, my lord?”
“After I have seen them, I will explain what brought me here with what must strike you as a strange request.”
Ridgeway nodded. He gestured to the path leading through the formal gardens. “Come this way. It’s more direct.”
“Has the parish constable’s investigation turned up anything, Mr. Ridgeway?”
“No. Difficult with them being so old, my lord. A lot happenedduring the eighteenth century.” He gestured. “It’s here at the northern end of the lake.”
Jack followed him. At the fear of what lay ahead, his chest grew so tight, he had to fight for breath.
He approached the excavation and stared down into the hole. Something sparkled half-hidden beneath the soil. He bent down and use his riding crop to sweep the soil aside. If the wisps of hair the color of his own were not enough, the ring he exposed, lying near her hand certainly was. Jack fell to his knees. With a moan, he squatted down and picked up the small, gold band studded with diamonds, which he recognized as part of the Hereford family jewels.
He straightened holding it in his palm. “This is my mother’s wedding ring,” he said, aware of a strange roaring in his ears. “It is part of the Hereford family jewels.”
Ridgeway gasped. “Your mother lies there? How extraordinary. Then you must take it.” He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, my lord. Are you all right?”
With several deep breaths, Jack brushed the dirt from his knees and tucked the ring into his waistcoat coat pocket. “Yes, thank you. I believe I shall be now.”
“Will you come to the house for some brandy? You have a story to tell I should very much like to hear.”
Jack nodded. “I could do with one, thank you.”
As they sat in Ridgeway’s parlor and nursed glasses of brandy, Jack struggled with the knowledge that Stanton had killed his mother. But why? It led him back to Roland Stanton and the reason for his actions. “Would you know if there’s a physician in the village who would be a fair age now?”
Ridgeway nodded. “That would be Doctor Grace. He lives at Abbot Grove.” He raised his eyebrows. “I look forward to hearing what you learn from him. I hope it makes sense of all this.”
Jack mounted his horse and rode to Abbot Grove. The physicianlived in a small cottage with a picket fence. Jack dismounted, looped the reins over a post, and entered through the gate. A gray-haired gentleman knelt over a garden bed with a trowel in his hand.
“Good to see you, my lord,” he said when Jack had introduced himself. “You were a babe when I saw you last.” He removed his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “Brings back sad memories, I’m afraid. Would you care for tea? Martha has made one of her delicious seed cakes.”
“I would, sir, thank you.”
Over tea and cake, Jack explained what he had found.
“Dear lord.” The doctor gripped the arms of his chair. “What evil is this? I am so sorry, my lord.”
Jack nodded his thanks. He couldn’t find the words to express his grief, so he changed the subject. “What was Mr. Stanton like?”
“I had very few dealings with him. A hard man. He wanted a son, but his wife had not conceived in many years, and I deemed it hopeless. After that, I lost touch with them, although there was gossip in the village. Something about her dying in childbirth and the child surviving. After my thorough examination, I considered it impossible and told Stanton so.” He shrugged. “I was not called upon again.”
