Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress (13 page)

They pulled up before the Abbey at two, in the midst of an argument over Frederick's handling of the ribbons. Joanna insisted that he went too fast and had nearly overturned them at the gate. Her brother was as certain that it had been no such thing. He believed himself to be a top sawyer.

They were still disputing the fact when Jonathan Erland came out of the front door to greet them, and the man smiled as he put up a hand to help Joanna down. Seeing this, the girl snapped, “I daresay it seems funny to you, but we were nearly tumbled out at the turn. We might have been hurt or killed all because of Frederick's care-for-nobody driving.”

“Pooh,” said Frederick.

Joanna tossed back her somewhat disheveled curls and walked into the house haughtily.

Erland suppressed another smile as Frederick jumped down. A groom came around the corner of the house and took charge of the gig, and they followed Joanna into the house.

“Come into the library,” said Erland when they joined her. “I want to show you something.”

They found the library in some disarray. Books had been taken down and replaced carelessly, or not at all. The desk was nearly covered with piles of dusty old volumes. “Sit over here,” suggested the host, directing them to chairs near the window and the afternoon sunshine.

When they were seated, he pulled out his uncle's letter once more. “I have been thinking about this,” he said, addressing himself chiefly to Joanna. “At first, I thought it must be some sort of joke, but the more I considered my uncle and the kind of man he was, the more I became convinced that it could be true. It is just the sort of mad scheme that would have amused him.”

Thinking of old Mr. Erland, Joanna nodded.

“Well, and so I began to wonder what to do. I thought of showing this to the lawyers and perhaps hiring some workmen to search, but that does not seem right. There may be nothing to find after all, and I would look quite a fool in that case.” He smiled.

“We don't want a lot of strangers pushing in anyway,” said Frederick. “Ten-to-one, if the treasure were found, one of them would make off with it.”

“There is also that possibility,” agreed Erland, though his smile broadened. “Then I remembered the wording of the letter. My uncle said that if I remembered the traditions of the family, I would find his fortune. That brought me to this.” He gestured toward the piles of books. “I have gone through the library. These are the books having to do with the family and their history. Unfortunately, I am not familiar with them. It was never thought necessary. I was to make my way in Canada, and Maurice was to inherit.”

“There are so many,” exclaimed Joanna, somewhat daunted by the heavy musty tomes.

“There are indeed,” said Erland wryly. “And most of them as dry as they look, I fear. That is why I have asked for your help.”

She raised startled eyes to his face.

“I thought you and Frederick might help me go through them. I don't want word of this to spread, but since you know already, I thought you might be willing to help me.” His gray eyes held Joanna's dark ones.

“You may be sure we will,” cried Frederick. He jumped up and went to the desk, picking up a huge old leather-bound volume and taking it to a chair. “Let us waste no time.” He opened the book energetically and a cloud of dust puffed out; he began to cough as it settled over his face and coat.

Joanna and Erland laughed. “Will you help me?” said the man, looking at Joanna once more.

“Yes,” she replied, getting up in her turn. “I should like it above all things.”

Two hours later, all three of them were very dusty and discouraged. Each sat in a straight chair, surrounded by a small pile of books. Erland had paused to wipe his brow with a kerchief, grimacing when it came away black. Joanna was looking frowningly over a small volume full of cramped handwriting. Frederick dropped another disgustedly. “Another book of recipes,” he exclaimed. “That makes six! Did these old Erlands think. of nothing but food? And some of them are beastly.” He picked up the book again. “Here, boiled garlic; would you eat that? I promise you I shouldn't.”

“Well, I have another account book,” said Joanna. “One of your ancestors kept careful records when he made the grand tour,” she told Erland. “It is interesting, really. Here is the list of monies spent in Paris. What can this mean I wonder? ‘Spent fifty guineas at Mrs. Lavalle's House on Monday and Friday.' It can't be a boarding house; that's much too expensive.”

Erland raised his eyebrows and held out a hand. “Let me see.”

“Oh, who cares for that,” said Frederick, uninterested. “It can't be the clue.” He surveyed the piles of books dejectedly. “We shall never find it among all these.”

Erland closed the small volume and laid it aside behind him. “Don't be discouraged. We have eliminated those after all.” He gestured toward a large pile in the corner. “But it is clear that we won't do it all in one day. I suggest we abandon the task for now and call for some tea, or perhaps some lemonade. It's hot.”

Joanna agreed.

“You aren't giving up?” cried Frederick.

“Only temporarily.”

“It is too bad. All this work and nothing to show.” Frederick got up and went over to the desk. “I have never seen a duller collection of books.” He gave the tallest pile a disgusted shove, and it slowly began to tumble over.

“Frederick!” cried Joanna.

“I didn't mean to knock them off,” retorted her brother, as the ancient volumes hit heavily one by one. The last, a thick tome, fell end on, and the cracked leather back gave way entirely, splitting the book down the spine.

“Oh dear,” said Joanna, running to pick it up.

“You've ruined it.” She tried to fit the halves together again, without success, but as she lifted one of the sides, three thick parchments fell out and floated to the floor. “Oh,” she continued, “the pages are coming loose.”

“It doesn't matter,” said Erland, retrieving one and bringing it to her. As he held it out, however, he paused. “This paper doesn't look the same,” he said. He compared them more closely. “No, these aren't pages of that book.” He opened the parchment. “It's a chart of some kind.”

“Let me see,” cried Frederick. He pushed under Erland's elbow to look at the paper. “It looks like a plan of the house.”

“I think it is.” Erland went to pick up the other two sheets. “And this one is the grounds. The third is odd, it looks older.” He raised his eyes. “We may have found something here.”

“Hooray!” said Frederick. “I found the clue.”

Erland smiled. “You do seem to have a definite talent for treasure hunting,” he agreed.

“Let's see it.”

But the man folded the papers again and turned away. “Later we will examine them in detail. Now, I think we need a wash and a rest. Let us see if we can persuade Mrs. Smith to make lemonade. Come, lend your argumentative powers to mine.”

After much protest, Frederick agreed. And Joanna was very glad after she caught a glimpse of herself in the dark mirror in the corner. “Oh my,” she said. There was a smudge of dust on her nose, and several down her primrose muslin gown. Her curls were still tumbled from the drive over, and her hands were filthy.

“Yes, I think we could all do with a wash. I shall send Mrs. Smith to show you the way. Come along, Frederick.”

Grumbling, the boy followed him down the corridor.

Later, in somewhat better frame, the three of them pored over the charts. But Joanna could make nothing of the crisscrossing lines and many crabbed notations along them. Frederick's frown made it clear that he saw little more.

“I think these may require long study,” said Erland finally, “before they yield any important facts.”

“Dull stuff,” replied Frederick. “Let us search the house instead.”

The man smiled. “We may do so in time. But I should like to look over these first. It might be a great help.”

Frederick made a face.

“As I see it,” continued Erland with a laugh, “the treasure, if there is indeed such a thing, must be either in the house or in the ruins. There is no place else connected with family traditions.” He gestured. “Unless my family had a lamentable habit of burying things in the lawns.”

Joanna laughed. “Surely not.”

“As you say. So, I wish to go over these plans looking for possible hiding places.”

“That will take forever,” complained Frederick.

“It will take some time at any rate. I'm sorry.”

Frederick subsided into morose silence, while Joanna and Erland smiled at one another over his head. “You will find it,” she said.

“Your confidence encourages me.” His eyes were warm.

As they drove home, later that afternoon, Joanna was thoughtful. Her brother chattered on and on about the treasure, what a fine chap Erland was for letting them help look for it, and what he meant to do with the share that Erland would surely give him. Joanna listened with half an ear. She was thinking about Erland also, but not in the same terms. She was considering how likeable he was in spite of his lack of polish and the airs and graces she had always thought indispensable in a man. She contrasted him in her mind with Sir Rollin Denby, whom she had seen this same day. It was really much easier to talk to Mr. Erland, and more fun, too. He did not make her feel terribly young and blundering, nor did he laugh at her.

Instead, they had laughed together several times this afternoon, over some of the absurdities in the old books. Joanna was beginning to wonder if there had not been more in what Constance had said than she had realized at the time. Not that Mr. Erland would ever outshine Sir Rollin, she added to herself. The latter would always be the more exciting and dazzling companion. But their new neighbor might turn out to be an easier friend, more like a brother perhaps. Joanna wrinkled her nose. Yet another brother!

When they got home at five, the family was having tea in the drawing room and Frederick and Joanna joined them. Their mother looked surprised when she heard where they had been, and she frowned at their disheveled appearance, but she made no objection. Mr. Rowntree was engrossed in telling his wife of the morning's digging. Gerald was preparing to ride back to Oxford, and Joanna was amazed when he stopped to sit beside her before he went out.

“I wanted to speak with you, Joanna,” he said.

She looked at him; here was a new start.

Gerald looked at his hands. “It is rather awkward—I don't know quite how to begin.”

Joanna frowned, still more amazed. Then, a thought came to her. Did Gerald want to talk of Constance?

But he blurted, “It is that man Denby.”

“Sir Rollin?”

Gerald nodded, looking down again. “The thing is, Joanna, one of the fellows with us this morning lives in London and knows of Denby. It appears, that is, it is pretty well known that he is, a, well, an ugly customer.”

Joanna's surprise and amusement at seeing her self-absorbed brother grope for words gave way to a spark of resentment. “And so?” she replied.

“Dash it, Joanna, you must see what I'm driving at. I'm trying to drop a word in your ear, a warning, you know. Denby's just not, well, the sort of man you should go about with.”

“Do you mean he is a rake?” said Joanna baldly, hoping to shock him into silence. What right had Gerald, who had practically ignored her for years, to dictate whom she should see?

But Gerald looked relieved. “That's it. Carstairs says it's well known. Mothers keep their girls away from him. He's been involved in all sorts of havey-cavey turn-ups. Seems to care for nothing and nobody, including himself.”

With a small smile, Joanna permitted herself to wonder if this were still true. “You're telling me to stay away from him?” she asked belligerently.

“Oh, I haven't any right to do that,” said her brother hastily. He seemed quite embarrassed by his unaccustomed venture into her affairs. “But Papa won't notice, you know, and Mother may not have heard about him, so I thought I'd just speak to you. You're a sensible little puss when you want to be, Joanna. You'll know what to do.”

Though she was still angry with him for his interference, such praise from Gerald silenced Joanna. “Th-thank you,” she murmured at last.

“Right.” He stood. “I've got to go.” He took his leave of the family and strode out, already forgetting Sir Rollin and Joanna.

The girl sat still for several minutes. She had no intention of paying any heed to Gerald's strictures, but she was amazed that he had bothered to make them. And Gerald,
Gerald
had called her a sensible little puss! Where would it end?

When Joanna came down to breakfast the following day, she found her father very upset.

“Boys!” he was saying, in outraged accents, to her mother. “That is what Erland thinks, and I suppose he is right. It is intolerable, Emma. How can one approach a problem scientifically if one is subject to such interference. Boys indeed! Would that I knew who it was; I should show them interference.”

“Most vexatious,” murmured Mrs. Rowntree.

“What is it?” asked Joanna. “Has something happened?”

“Something?” sputtered her father. “I should say it has. Someone got into the ruins of the Abbey last night, after we had gone. Just at the church, where we were to work today. A whole wall damaged, nearly falling down! Erland heard the crash from the house last night, and he frightened the rascals off when he came out to see what was toward. But this is intolerable. I cannot work with such intrusions.”

“Well, well, George,” put in Mrs. Rowntree, “you have ensured that it will not happen again.”

A look of satisfaction crossed Mr. Rowntree's face, and he laughed shortly. “I have that. Young Carstairs' mastiff will see that there are no more trespassers, boys or not.”

During this conversation, a suspicion had been growing in Joanna's mind, and when at this moment the door opened and her brother Frederick came in, she turned to glare at him angrily. Frederick returned her look with bland surprise in his round blue eyes.

They sat down to baked eggs without further conversation. And though her father occasionally grumbled under his breath during the meal, no more was said about the Abbey. As soon as she was finished, Joanna got up and went out. But instead of going upstairs, she waited in the corridor until Frederick appeared, then pounced on him.

“Frederick, you went to the Abbey ruins last night, didn't you? And after your promise to Mama. You should be ashamed!”

Her brother frowned. “I don't know what you're talking about. Are you touched in your upper works, Joanna?”

The girl repeated what her father had said. “It must have been you, Frederick. You are always exploring those ruins. And who else could it be?”

His frown deeper, Frederick replied, “I do not know, but you may be sure I mean to find out. If Johnny Townsend is sneaking about trying to get the treasure without me, I shall thrash him soundly.”

The conviction in his voice gave Joanna pause. “It really wasn't you?” she asked, still suspicious.

“I have said it wasn't, have I not? Why should I skulk about in the dark when Erland is letting me help him search? A pretty fool you must think me.”

His sister let this sink in. “But who could it have been then?” she said again, in a different tone.

Frederick grimaced. “We shall see.” The light in his eyes boded ill for any neighborhood boy who had the temerity to intrude on his ground.

Joanna had no more time to puzzle over this mystery, for her father was ready to set out for the Abbey, and today, she was to accompany him. As she hurried up to her bedroom to gather her drawing materials, she felt a quiver of excitement. The prospect of sketching their finds was exciting, and the idea that she might really aid her father in his work made her glow. She had never been able to do that before.

Jonathan Erland, Templeton, and Carstairs were all on the scene when they arrived. They were standing near a toppled wall in the ruins and surveying it carefully. Carstairs held the collar of a large, fierce-looking dog.

“Good morning,” cried Mr. Rowntree when they came up to them. “Is this the place the fools spoiled? We ought to call in a constable. It is disgraceful that anyone would interfere with scientific work in this way.” He came over to look. “Why, someone has been digging here!”

Erland nodded. “That is what made the wall topple, I think. They began to dig too close and undermined it.”

“Yes, yes, I see.” Mr. Rowntree walked around the hole. “It just shows what fools they were. A ridiculous place to excavate—not at all safe. We shall start here when we unearth the crypt.” He indicated a space further from the fallen wall.

“Brilliant!” cried Templeton. “You always know just what must be done, sir.”

Though her father paid no attention to this, Joanna looked at the youth curiously. She had not really noticed Templeton and Carstairs before this, but now that she would be working with them every day, she began to wonder what sort of gentlemen they were. Templeton was slender, very dark and intense, and he watched her father's every move with the light of hero worship in his eyes. He had never spoken to Joanna, and she wondered now if he ever would. He did not seem to see that she had come along today.

Turning to look at Carstairs, Joanna found that that young man was already gazing at her. When their eyes met, he flushed slightly and mumbled a greeting. Carstairs was a bit plump, with brown hair and ingenuous blue eyes. He looked cheerful and comfort-loving and not at all the sort Joanna would have expected to be interested in her father's project. Smiling in response, Joanna walked toward him. But Frederick was before her. “Say, that's a lovely mastiff,” he told Carstairs. “Yours?”

“Yes.” Carstairs glanced down, then looked up again to return Joanna's smile. “His name's Valiant. I've had him only a few months.”

Frederick knelt beside the animal, eliciting a warning growl.

“Be careful,” said Carstairs. “He's not more than half trained, and he can't seem to get used to strangers. Makes no end of trouble at the college.”

“Are you allowed to keep a dog?” asked Joanna, surprised.

The young man grinned. “Well, strictly speaking, no. That's why I have to train him as soon as possible. And that's why I'm glad to leave him here to guard the Abbey for a while. Someone told the bagwig about Valiant, and he's on the lookout.”

“I'll wager he's a splendid watchdog,” said Frederick from his knees. “Aren't you, boy?” He ruffled the dog's ears affectionately, a caress which the animal suffered with only a baring of teeth.

At this moment, Gerald came striding across the lawn. He was a bit later than usual, so he was hurrying, and he had already picked up one of shovels from the shed and was carrying it jauntily over one shoulder. Valiant took instant exception to this unaccustomed sight. Barking fiercely, he lunged toward Gerald, and such was Carstairs' surprise that he let go of the dog's collar, setting him free to charge.

“Look out,” called Joanna. All of the others turned to see what was the matter.

Startled, Gerald watched the mastiff approach. He seemed uncertain about what to do. But finally, at the last minute, Valiant's bared teeth and deep growls convinced Gerald that he was in earnest, and he held up the shovel before him in defense.

“Valiant!” cried Carstairs. “Down, sir, down!” He started to run after the dog.

Confused by this command, but still deeply suspicious of the shovel, Valiant turned slightly aside. His great jaws snapped at the shovel, but he did not offer to renew the attack, and in a moment, Carstairs had his collar once more and was apologizing volubly to Gerald. For a short while, all was confusion, but finally Gerald had been told the story of the night's incursion and Valiant, his presence explained, had been taken off to the stables to rest for his evening labors.

“A very satisfactory animal,” said Mr. Rowntree as he was led away. “No one will get past him to interfere with our work.” He rubbed his hands together. “And now, let us get to it. We have wasted enough time already this morning.”

It soon became obvious to Joanna that Jonathan Erland and Gerald did most of the real work on this project. Frederick, quickly bored by mere digging, disappeared on his own explorations after a very few minutes. Templeton made no move to lend a hand, but stood talking and listening to Mr. Rowntree. Carstairs occasionally tried to help, but he so clearly did not enjoy it that one of the others soon returned. And Joanna's father, though more than willing to take a shovel, seemed to hamper more than he helped when he did. Joanna herself found a reasonably comfortable flat rock and sat down to watch until she should be called upon to sketch something or perform some other service.

Erland and Gerald dug; Mr. Rowntree peered at their excavation and gave directions; the sun rose higher in the sky, and the day grew hot. With a muttered excuse, Carstairs went off to “see about Valiant.” And Joanna began to be bored. She had thought that they would find exciting ancient objects quite often and that she would be asked to draw them. But after two hours, nothing of the sort had happened. They were finishing the unearthing of a long wall, started several days ago, before moving on to the chapel foundations, and there seemed to be nothing of interest to be found in this hole. Joanna's head began to droop. The heat was making her drowsy. Thus, she did not hear the footsteps approaching from behind her and started violently when Sir Rollin Denby said, “Good morning.”

As she jerked around to face him, he added, “Did I frighten you? I'm sorry.”

Joanna blinked up at the tall immaculate figure. In his fashionable morning dress, Sir Rollin looked incongruous surrounded by ruins. But he did not seem to notice; he was blandly poised, as ever. Joanna stood up. “G-good morning,” she said.

“I am late, I fear. You are all such early risers.” He looked toward Erland and Gerald, now hip deep in the excavation. “And such diligence—I am impressed.”

He didn't sound impressed. Joanna murmured something indistinct.

“They have not moved their work?” asked Denby. “I understood that they were to begin on the church today, but perhaps I am mistaken?”

“Papa wanted to finish here first,” answered Joanna. “Then they will move.”

“Ah. Your father is laudably methodical. He completes what he starts no matter how, ah, tedious.” The man looked from under lowered eyelids at the widening trench.

Joanna swallowed. Sir Rollin looked bored. She searched for something to say. “Someone broke into the ruins last night,” she blurted finally.

Denby raised his eyebrows. “Broke in?” he repeated, looking around.

“Well, not precisely that. They are quite open, of course. But someone disturbed them.” And Joanna went on to tell him the whole story. “So Mr. Carstairs' mastiff will be on guard from now on,” she finished.

Sir Rollin was frowning over her head, but when she stopped speaking, he looked down. “Indeed. Erland feels that his rocks must be guarded then? Perhaps he hopes his treasure is here?”

Joanna looked around apprehensively, but no one was listening to them. “Oh, it was my father's idea, I think,” she replied. “But Mr. Erland thinks the money must be either in the house or in the ruins. Those are the only two possible places.”

“Does he indeed?” The man looked over to Erland, who straightened at that moment and paused to wipe his brow. As he lowered his kerchief, he turned his gaze in their direction, but after a brief glance, he resumed digging.

“Yes,” continued Joanna, pleased to have some interesting information to impart. “We found some charts of the house and grounds; he is studying those.”

“Charts?” asked Denby sharply.

Joanna nodded, a little surprised by his vehemence.

Meeting her wide brown eyes, Sir Rollin smiled. “Fascinating. But Miss Rowntree, I particularly wanted to speak to you today. I enjoyed our ride so much, and I wanted to tell you so.”

Joanna's color rose. “Thank you.” She dropped her eyes.

“In fact, I dared hope we might repeat it soon. I thought of getting up a party to ride into Oxford next week. We might ask Miss Williston, and perhaps Mr. Townsend, to join us. I had a sudden desire to see my old college after ten years.”

“It…it sounds delightful,” replied Joanna.

“Splendid. I shall see what I can arrange for, say, Tuesday next. We will set out early, in this heat. Do you think nine would be too soon?”

“Oh, no.”

“Nine it is then.” He smiled down at her. “Of course, you have seen Oxford countless times, but I hope our party may be pleasant enough that you won't be bored.”

“I'm sure I won't be.”

He smiled again. “It is settled then. And now, perhaps we should make some move to look at the digging.

“Though I should much prefer talking with you, it is perhaps rude not to speak to your father.” He offered his arm, and Joanna took it with a little thrill. No other gentleman of her acquaintance would have done such a thing for a walk of a few yards.

They worked on until eleven, exposing more and more of the old wall. Finally, Mr. Rowntree judged that enough was visible, and he asked Joanna to make a careful sketch of the whole. She sat down before it and got out her pencils and pad, determined to do a perfect job on this first commission. Erland and Gerald went for water, and Sir Rollin took his leave soon after, looking very bored by the proceedings. A few minutes later, Frederick returned from wherever he had been, his clothes very wrinkled and dusty, and came to crouch down beside Joanna. “I've been all over the ruins,” he told her, “and I could not find any signs of who it might have been last night. No footprints or anything.”

Concentrating on her sketch, Joanna murmured, “Well, the ground is very hard.”

“I know. It is too bad there hasn't been a good rain lately.” Frederick flopped to lie at her side in the grass. “And you know what else, Joanna—I was looking for places where someone else might have dug, and there weren't any.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if old man Erland buried his money out here, there would have to be some sign. He couldn't have done it more than a year or two ago, could he? I mean, he'd want his money above ground while he was alive. So I should be able to find the place, if he dug. But I can't. So I think the treasure's in the house. It has to be.”

“Why does it have to be?” asked someone behind them, and Jonathan Erland came to sit beside Frederick.