Chasing Shadows (50 page)

Sarah nodded once. “Good.”

“
But
,” he said, seeming to sense her loaded questions, “you and Will have to make your own decisions. I know my old friend well enough to see that he would follow you to the ends of the earth and back, if you required it.”

“I’d never ask him to do that,” she whispered with a grimace. Seth didn’t know his words had hit the nail right on the head.

He gave her a soft smile. “You wouldn’t have to.”

She sighed. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

Grinning, she added, “And I’m glad you finally realized how amazing Karen is.” She didn’t need to add how relieved she was that Seth was no longer interested in her.

Flexing his arms in a gesture that reminded Sarah of the preening peacocks at the zoo, Seth said in a macho voice, “It never would have worked out between us anyway, darling. You’re too high maintenance with all the constant saving and requirement of bravery, and whatnot.” He flicked his hands in the air in a dismissive gesture.

Sarah gaped at him and then let out a hoarse laugh. “I seem to get myself into a few scrapes now and then, but it’s nothing a good friend with great advice can’t fix.”

He chuckled along with her. Lowering his voice, he said, “You can return the favor of my sage wisdom by convincing Karen she’s in love with me.” Though the words were spoken in jest, Sarah heard the underlying uncertainty in his voice.

She hid her grin in the folds of fabric, tucking away the secret she held. How could he not see that her job was already done for her?

~Chapter 43~

Breakfast was an interesting affair. It consisted of one hovering mother, two watchful-eyed redheads who barricaded Sarah on either side, and three Jones men who repeatedly reprimanded the lady of the house whenever she inquired after Sarah’s health or volunteered to cut her breakfast into manageable bites, which was quite often.

Sarah could no longer hide her grin. Each time Mr. Jones kindly reminded his wife that her patient was doing just fine and was perfectly capable of slicing sausage with her own hands, she shot a look at Seth, and he had to clear his throat when he looked on the verge of laughter. Ruth Jones swatted her husband’s arm once when he suggested that Sarah could feed herself just fine, and Samuel raised his hands, surrendering with a good-humored grin. 

Sometimes when Sarah looked up, she caught Seth shooting a secret gaze at Karen more than once, though that girl appeared completely oblivious to his poorly disguised attention. Josh and Sarah shared a grin and then went back to their meals.

“Next time you must come back under better circumstances,” Mrs. Jones said as they bade her farewell, wrapping Sarah in a tight, motherly embrace. Smiling, Sarah hugged her back. She pushed away all questioning thoughts about whether this would be the last time she saw these friendly faces, these people who had welcomed her into their family without question.

“I won’t be going anywhere near the water for a while, trust me,” Sarah said emphatically, laughing a little.

There were hugs all around from the women, and Leah beamed up at her, though they were nearly at eye-level now. She would look even more like a woman the next time Sarah saw her. If she came back, that is.

“Now are you sure you won’t be needing another cloak?” Ruth Jones ambled onto the porch after her, worrying the front of her skirt with her hands.

Chuckling, Mr. Jones pulled her against his side and bent down to whisper in her ear. She swatted at his midsection, but she was masking a grin of her own.

The two brothers were leading the horses out of the barn after hitching them to the wagon. Karen had volunteered to drive Sarah back into town, and Seth had insisted on coming along.

Warmed by the love she felt surrounding her on the porch, Sarah forced back tears and jogged down the steps after Karen, waving back to them. Concealed chunks of frost that floated in the light mist clung to her skin and hair, melting into her clothes. She shivered, grateful that Mrs. Jones had insisted on her borrowing the heaviest cloak they owned.  

Josh smiled at her as she approached. “You always seem to cause quite the stir when you drop by.”

Sarah laughed at that, surprised to feel so winded after her brief jog; she hoped it wouldn’t take very long to regain her strength. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t be. Nothing interesting ever happens around this town.” Sarah ducked her head to hide her expression as he helped her into the wagon: He couldn’t be farther off base.

Seth kept the two girls engaged as they drove into town, and Sarah was disappointed when the rutted path turned to smooth cobblestones, the castle gates looming before them. She motioned Seth ahead, and the wagon rolled along the side of the wall. He pulled the horses to a halt at the servants’ entrance, frowning.

“You sure you want to go in here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I know my way around this end of the castle.
And
I don’t want to deal with the guards.” She didn’t add why, and neither he nor Karen asked.

Hopping down from the seat, Sarah wished she could speak with her friend privately, but there would be time for that later. Smiling up at her companions, she said, “Thanks, guys.” For all they had done, she wanted to add. But their answering smiles let her know they sensed her unspoken words.

“Always.” Karen waved to her as they drove off. Watching the back of their heads shrink into small dots down the street, Sarah felt an unwelcome pang in her middle. It seemed so easy for some.

She thought of Karen’s concern over her barrenness and immediately reprimanded her self-pitying train of thought.  Moving slowly up the stairs on quivering legs, she reminded herself that many inward struggles went unseen by others. The greatest demons one could fight were their own, and Sarah told herself that she wasn’t alone in that struggle.

When she reached the top of the stairs, her heart was beating rapidly. “Almost dying really does a number,” she muttered. A maid scrubbing the base of the banister glanced up in question, and Sarah smiled apologetically.

Suddenly needing company, she ran to her room and changed into a vibrant red velvet gown that looked soft and warm. Damien had mentioned once that he liked red.

Sarah shook her head at the random thought and hastily laced up the front of the dress and the boots she still wore, which Mrs. Jones had thought to dry by the fire last night. And then she quickly crossed the hall and knocked on Damien’s door. She hoped his arm hadn’t gotten infected in her neglect, knowing she certainly wouldn’t be receiving any awards of merit in the nursing field. But she still had some poultice in her room somewhere. . . .

She knocked again, more firmly this time, expecting to hear him rustling around inside. The door creaked open at her insistence. She froze, imagining the last time Damien had left his door unlocked, when she’d found him half-conscious in the midst of his seizures.

Pulse thumping with worry, Sarah stepped inside, hoping she was overreacting, and was vaguely relieved to find the room empty. She closed the door behind her, deciding to wait until he returned from his errand.

She wandered the room for a minute to keep her mind occupied but felt like she was snooping. Planting herself at his desk, she drummed her fingers on the tabletop, eyes roving disinterestedly over the lists and half-written notes scattered over the surface. Minutes passed, but there was no sign of him. Sarah scratched idly at a few stray drops of candlewax on the surface of the wood as her eyes roved the lists and business letters he had carefully penned in his elegant script. Had he gone out searching for her?

“Five more minutes,” she assured herself aloud. After that, she would inquire after his whereabouts and see if she could find him.
But what if Will comes looking for you
? she asked herself. He had disappeared without notice, and she had no idea what he’d gone out to do.

Sarah snatched one of the seals from the desk, moving it anxiously between her palms and then rolling it between the fingers of one hand. The back of her mind caught on something, and her hand stilled.

Bringing the heavy object closer to her eyes, she admired the intricacies of the design. Her gaze narrowed in thought, and she returned the seal to its place and picked up the one beside it. The designs were identical. She couldn’t put her finger on why she was so interested in them; it was just that the slopes and curves pressed into the metal looked so familiar. . . .

Mind working furiously, she tried to recall the exact details of the design on Robert’s letter, but so many of the seals were similar—her own had nearly been a match—and she couldn’t be sure without comparing the two side-by-side.

What was she thinking? It wouldn’t matter even if they
were
an exact match. Damien hadn’t written that letter, she was sure of it.

The door opened suddenly, and her heart lurched painfully in her chest. Sarah spun around, instinctively hiding the seal behind her back. She gave Damien a smile that said she was glad to see him, but it wobbled nervously at the corners.

Damien’s eyes widened in surprise for half a second before they softened. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

She nearly choked on her anxiety over being snuck up on. “I t-thought we should work on your arm.” She stumbled over the words, letting them out in a breathless rush.

Frowning, he moved over to her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. Her eyes were too wide, and she made an effort to look at ease. “Just cold.”

He rubbed his hands over her stiff arms, smiling. “Better?”

Some of Sarah’s anxiety faded at the warmth in his eyes. She must be crazy to think that he had any part in the schemes going on around the castle. His presence subdued her suspicion, and she felt herself relaxing. Now she was holding the seal behind her skirt in embarrassment. “Much better. Thanks.” She walked over to the door, moving her hand so the stolen object was out of his sight. “I’ll get everything and be right back.”

He smiled. “Then here I will be.”

Hurrying across the hall, she closed her bedroom door and stared at the seal in her hands. It was stupid to take it with her, but she had been afraid to admit that, though fleeting, she’d suspected a folly on his part.

Unable to fight her curiosity any longer, she sifted through her things. She would disprove her unfounded doubts once and for all.

She found the missive at the bottom of the desk drawer but couldn’t bring herself to reach for it. She knew why she hesitated—what if they matched?—though the idea that Damien was involved was ridiculous.

Quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, Sarah snatched up the letter and flipped it over with clumsy fingers. Her breath caught.
It can’t be,
she thought, shaking her head in skepticism. She wouldn’t have believed her eyes if she hadn’t held the seal next to the depression in the red wax. But there was no doubt that it was the same design as Damien’s seal. She recalled the drops of candlewax on the table in his room.

Red candlewax.

But that proved nothing. Ten or twenty other guests could have sealed this missive with red wax. To prove correct her intuition about Damien, her eyes scanned the depressions in the wax, searching for some inconsistency that would alleviate her growing anxiety.

At the bottom right corner, there was a shallow notch where the eagle’s tail feather should have been, as if that portion of the seal had not been properly cut out. Sarah’s eyes flew to the corresponding corner of the seal, searching for the spot where—

“
No
.” The word was just a breath from her lips, all at once disbelieving and comprehending.

On that section of the eagle’s tail, where the feather should have been sunken like the rest, sat one that was slightly raised by the glob of red wax lodged in the crevice.

“It’s a mistake,” she whispered, eyes wide. But she was holding the proof in her hands.

Unwilling to believe, Sarah wrenched the letter open, eyes scanning the instructions with a sinking feeling. It was written in a matching looping scroll with the same hitch on the a’s as the partially written letters on Damien’s desk.

Sarah’s heart thumped wrathfully in her chest even as she shook her head in denial, trying to be reasonable; she was being paranoid. She knew after all the trouble with Will that she couldn’t jump to conclusions at the slightest test of her confidence. Surely Damien had a good reason for writing the letter asking Robert to pose as the Shadow.

But, of course, that would mean he’d had a hand in Edith’s murder.

Her quiet intake of breath echoed in the silent room. Suddenly, it felt as if the air had been stolen from the space, and an unseen force had a fist around her ribcage, suffocating her. She dropped the seal onto the table as if it had burned her.

The seal on Jade’s secret missive. She recalled it in her mind now and knew it was an exact match to this letter. Dread filled her. Sarah couldn’t breathe as the horrific realization crashed in on her, and she gripped the edge of the desk for support.

Damien said he had business at the livery that day, but neither Will nor Robert had seen him. Damien had written letters to both Jade and Robert, and one—perhaps both—led to Edith dying.

Sensing she was missing an important link from that night, Sarah racked her brain to remember every blurry detail. She recalled seeing the Shadow, running after him, his hesitation to shoot at her and then surprise when he did. Almost as if he hadn’t meant to, almost like he didn’t
want
to hurt her.

But Damien had come from his room, she countered. It couldn’t have been him.

Sarah closed her eyes to envision that moment when he’d run to her, and her lids snapped open in a panic. He hadn’t come half-dressed from his own room, where she had assumed he’d been sleeping in late; he had run from the opposite end of the castle.

But that didn’t make sense . . . unless, of course, he had simply waited in the shadows for her and Terrance to leave before he followed them. He would’ve had plenty of time to discard his disguise in a passageway and wait them out. If he timed his appearance right, they would be none the wiser—they
had
been fooled by his game, Sarah corrected. 

The pieces fell into place then, fueling the anxiety building within her chest as the accusations and memories flashed through her mind: the matching seals, the secrecy, Damien’s insistence that she drop her investigation, lying about where he was going, disappearing for hours on end. It all made sense.

Sarah had wondered if his aversion to Cadius at dinner was because he was trying to protect her and keep her from stirring the water. But she saw now that it had been subservience and fear that had cowed him at the table. Damien was probably working for Cadius! Even as she wanted to deny it, she couldn’t ignore the clarity of this fact.