Hearing the grandfather clock chime two in the morning, she pulled the covers off and stepped onto the threadbare carpet. If she was not going to sleep now, then it was never going to happen. Gathering her wrapper off of the floor, she stuck her arms through the garment and double tied it around her waist.
Deciding she had enough armor to protect her from the rest of the world, Cordelia went in search of a glass of warm milk.
Creaking open the door to her bedroom, she started down the long hall to the kitchens, a candleholder balanced in her left hand, the other holding up the hem of her dressing gown.
Taking a steadying breath, Cordelia eyed the door to the library, determined to pass it. But there was something calling to her. Sighing heavily, she pressed on the hefty double doors, surprised when they did not creak as loudly as she anticipated.
She did not bother to close them; she knew that this would not take much time.
Every day for the past two weeks, when she could find the time, Cordelia had taken theComplete Works of Shakespeareand flipped through its copious contents, searching for the next clues. But it was not any use. So much of her time had been taken up helping the duke with Hollyhead that she only had moments to steal. Twice she’d been caught flipping through the volume, once by Portia and the second time by Mrs. Norris. Both times she told them she was trying to remember which play contained Hermione’s name. That excuse would not hold water the next time they found her, however.
Look here, the tome beckoned and Cordelia pulled it off the shelf.
Setting the candle down on a side table, she opened the book, holding it near the light. Flipping through the pages, which smelled of mold, she reminded herself of the riddle.Find me among friends, it had told them.Only in the night. There was nothing there. Just as there had been nothing there for the previous mornings. She groaned to herself.
Cordelia was the more patient of her sisters, but even she was growing weary of the task. She doubted anyone had gotten closer to solving it, however. Portia was clever but tended to take one idea and run with it, with Henry Peverill likely keeping watch. Hermione was hiding in the greenhouse most days and Bea was forever exploring the estate. Justin had been far too busy working on improvements to the Hollyhead grounds to concern himself with riddles.
Justin. Taking in a sharp breath, she had a sudden memory of his lips on hers. Shuddering, she closed the tome.
“My lady?”
Spinning around, Cordelia dropped the heavy book to the floor, pages face down.
“Mrs. Norris!” Cordelia said.Look herestared up at her as she kicked it under the settee. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Oh, bless you, child, no. I was having trouble sleeping tonight. Actually, I have been having trouble sleeping for a while now,” the older woman said, offering her a congenial smile.
“We share that problem,” Cordelia replied.
“Shall I get you a cup of warm milk?” Mrs. Norris asked.
In that moment Cordelia could have wept from the comfort being offered by a familiar face. She settled herself down on the settee, grabbing a cushion to hold in her arms.
“Everything all right, love?” Mrs. Norris asked, coming to stand near her. She leaned on the back of a chair.
“Oh goodness, Mrs. Norris, are any of us all right?” Cordelia said, but then she smiled. “You know how the Nichols women are. Stiff upper lip.”
The chatelaine smiled. “I’ll be right back, love. Don’t you move.”
Cordelia smiled and stretched out on the settee, feeling her back crack. Turning her head, she saw the empty place where she’d taken the book from on the shelf. She thought she’d better put it back, just in case. Yawning and reaching under the sofa, she pulled the tome up, dusting it off.
“Nothing, eh?” she said, as though speaking to it would coax the book to reveal its secrets.
Though she couldn’t make out the words in the darkness, Cordelia flipped through it again. And then nearly dropped it a second time. There were… large lines, and they were painted with the same glowing stuff that someone had used to write the letters on the book’s spine.
Cordelia did not have much time, and though she knew her father would roll in his grave, began ripping out pages where the paint had been marked, dropping them next to her. She lickedher index finger as she leafed through the book, finding ten pages in total with glowing paint.
Her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest, she thought it could have been Mrs. Norris’s footsteps. It would surely take her time to light the stove and warm the milk, but Cordelia would be cutting it close. Unable to resist, she laid the sheets out in front of her and saw… well she wasn’t sure. They were all a series of lines, some curving and others straight as an arrow, all painted on top of Shakespeare’s works.
Come to think of it, this was not much different than a puzzle. Cordelia matched up three of the straight lines, which led into a curve and gasped. It was not a deranged art project. It was a map.
Chapter Seventeen
Cordelia was stillbuzzing after what she’d uncovered the previous evening. She had not slept the entire night, already sitting at her dressing table when she heard someone knock at the door.
“Come in!” she said, applying rosewater to her cheeks.
Portia entered the bedroom and cocked her head. “Well, don’t we look cheery this morning?”
