Having been thus dismissed, Lord St. John bowed curtly and strode through the crowd. Winsome got the idea that he did not have a party to go to. He’d planned to join their own party. She was not sorry to see him go. In any case, she had more important things to consider. Was Lord Manderbey in actual danger? Had he got himself into such a corner that he might consider the final choice?
It sent a terror through her. She had to save him. Somehow, she had to pull him back from the brink.
They made their way out of the back of the house. Lord Manderbey was handed a slate and graphite. Sir Jonathan’s garden was lit up along paths through shrubbery. At various points, such as a fountain or a bench, there were the clues they were meant to unravel.
As people took various paths to begin, the first clue they came upon read: The beginning of an Idea.
“Why is the word ‘idea’ capitalized like that?” Winsome asked.
“You are right, I had not noticed. It must mean something,” Lord Manderbey said.
“The word we’re looking for must begin with I,” the dowager said. “And that’s the last sense you’ll get out of me—this Canary is strong!”
Winsome noted Lord Manderbey’s sigh as he wrote down I. “Could it be inkling?” she asked.
Lord Manderbey nodded. Then something seemed to come upon him. “Wait a minute,” he said, “if the capitalized letter indicates the first letter of the answer to the clue, do we even need the answer? Do not we simply need to have a look at all the clues, write down the capitalized letter, and then see what we have?”
The duke snorted. “Sir Jonathan did not fully think it through.”
They hurried down the paths, not bothering to solve the clues butsimply writing down the capitalized letters they found. They ended where they started and stared down at the slate.
IWEGSN
“This is what we have to work with,” Lord Manderbey said.
Winsome did not know if their strategy was the right one, but even if it were, how were they to divine what the word was?
Lord Manderbey was writing down various combinations, none of which made sense.
Then she had a sudden idea. “Lord Manderbey, have you by chance readThe Laird of Castle Carrigan?”
Lord Manderbey’s brows raised and Winsome remembered that he’d likely only readGloaming at Glenford Crossbecause she’d mentioned she preferred gothic novels. It was unlikely that he would have made a habit of it.
“What say you, Duke?” the dowager said. “Shall we find our aging bones a bench and leave this to the younger set?”
The duke nodded and they toddled off to look for a seat.
“What are you thinking in regards to the book you mentioned?” Lord Manderbey asked.
“It is probably silly, but in that story, a mysterious note is left in Annabelle’s room. She’s just arrived as the laird’s ward and she cannot make heads or tails of the word on the paper. Then one day, as she has it laid on her dressing table, she sees its reflection in the looking glass. Goodness, I cannot precisely remember what word or phrase she saw, but Idoremember that something about the reflection helped her escape terrible danger.”
Lord Manderbey looked critically at his slate, squinting his eyes as if to see it in a mirror image.
“We passed a ladies’ retiring room on our way out,” Winsome said. “I imagine you’ve never been inside one—”
“I have not,” Lord Manderbey said laughing.
“I can assure you, they are full of looking glasses. Let me take the slate in and have a look. It’s worth a try and I’ll be back in a tick.”
“It’s worth a try I suppose,” Lord Manderbey said, handing over the slate.
Winsome took it and hurried into the house. She must be quick in case anybody else had the same idea. She ran down the corridor to where she’d seen Lady Melby exit the room when they’d passed by.
Flinging open the door, she found it blessedly empty. She was a bit surprised that there was no attendant, but perhaps a single gentleman did not employ such people. She held the slate to the looking glass.
It was the same nonsensical string of letters as was on the slate. She sighed, supposing she would not make a very good heroine of one of the books she liked so much. Or perhaps the trick of unscrambling in a looking glass did not actually work. She did not know, but in this case it did not.
Suddenly, she heard the distinct sound of a sliding bolt. She looked around but she was still very much alone. Where had it come from?
