“An old family tradition!” Portia cut in. Cordelia resisted the urge to groan.
“Tradition?” Mr. Wright echoed as he came to complete their small circle.
“Yes,” Portia continued. “A very old… ancient one. Something the Rothesay women do every spring, when there’s a full moon about.”
“Sounds awfully witch-like,” Peverill replied, his eyes boring holes into Portia’s. “Does it involve stripping naked and worshipping the moon?”
“Ibegyour pardon!” Cordelia said, guffawing.
“As much as a rake like you would have appreciated something that vulgar, this is quite different,” Portia said. “And it is to be done with absolutelynomen about. So if you two would please excuse us…” She began walking ahead, waving her hand for Cordelia to follow, but Peverill stood in her way.
“Why the mallet then, my dear?” he asked.
Portia bristled at the endearment. Cordelia looked over to Mr. Wright, who had folded his arms and bore a rather skeptical look.
“It’s… it’s rather complicated, you see,” Portia began.
“I am now absolutely intrigued, Lady Portia,” Peverill said. “Isn’t that right, Wright?”
“Indeed,” he said. “No reason for you ladies to be out and about at this hour. Unless, of course, it is something rather important.”
“Oh, it is,” Portia said. “Isn’t thatright, Cordelia?”
Cordelia nodded dumbly, bringing the mallet forward. “Quite,” she managed to choke out.
“Once per year,” Portia said. ‘We are required to destroy a statue in the garden. Something that represents what we would like to improve upon…. Erm… moving forward.”
“Really?” Peverill challenged, not bothering to disguise the laughter in his voice. “That sounds absolutely absurd.”
“Cordelia,” Portia said, turning to face her sister, her smile tight. “Perhaps you would like to explain?”
Botheration. “Yes,” Cordelia said, returning the smile. “And this year, it seems that our dear Venus will need to go.”
“Why is that?” Mr. Wright asked, rather suddenly. His blue eyes seemed almost black in the dark, and they narrowed as they examined Cordelia from head to toe.
“Venus is the symbol of lust, temptation, and licentiousness,” Portia replied, clasping her hands behind her back. “Based on present company, you can understand why we would be eager to ensure protection from those forces this year. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”
Before they could move on ahead, Peverill reached for the mallet. “Thank you, love,” he said, taking it easily out of Cordelia’s hands.
“Wait!” she shouted, but it was too late. Peverill took one full swing and knocked Venus to the ground. She cracked in half, her head rolling to a stop near Cordelia’s feet.
There were not many times in their life that Portia had been stunned to silence. She turned to face her sister, cheeks ruddy, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“There appears to be nothing here,” Peverill said, examining the statue like a carcass. Mr. Wright went to stand beside him, picking up one of the marble pieces and turning it about in his large hands.
“What made you ladies think to try this statue? Out of all the others?” Mr. Wright asked.
Portia hiked her nose in the air. “I have no idea of which you are referring to, Your Grace,” she hedged.
Peverill sighed heavily, “Come on now, girls. We know you’ve been searching for the treasure. Now that your efforts are very much in vain, perhaps we can put all of our heads together. The sooner we find it, the better.”
Cordelia knew that he was making sense. She knew that it would be better to have this wild treasure hunt resolved so they could all move on with their lives. She’d known it deep down since Portia convinced her of the wild scheme. But as she watched her younger sister roll her shoulders back and hold her head high, she also steeled herself.
“I assure you, gentlemen, we were simply doing our duty as the last living women of the Rothesay dynasty. Now that Mr. Peverill has taken it upon himself to steal that from us, I dearly hope you are adept at reversing curses,” Portia said.
Cordelia, trying to hide a snigger, took her sister’s arm in hers.
Peverill snorted.
