Page 45 of The Right to Remain Single

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The ghost’s warning ate at James. What if Max was right, even if his method of remedying the problems was wrong? Judging by the way Sam Furbelow prowled, by the furtive looks he cast, he was far more interested in Thomasina than in his uncle.

And yet…surely he must know that he would get nowhere with Thomasina, even if the old man was dead and gone—particularly now that James was here to protect her.

For a second, James considered whether Furbelow planned on killing him—and dismissed that notion immediately. Furbelow hadn’t expected to see James here, and Thomasina was not without other protectors. If her father died, she could take refuge with the vicar, or have Mick and Joey escort her to Colin’s estate.

Then who…?

The answer came to him in one horrific rush. If Thomasina died, Sam would be the old man’s next of kin. Heir to his entire fortune, unless the old man altered his will—but it would be easy to prevent that. If the old man didn’t die of grief, he might have one of his attacks in bed at night and be found dead the next morning. Would anyone be surprised?

Terror for his Thomasina shivered over James. He glanced about the Great Hall. She no longer stood at the trestle table, doling out lamb’s wool.

“Where is Miss Thomasina?” he asked Martha.

“I dunno, sir.” The maid blushed. “She said she’d not be long.”

The privy, perhaps. He made his way through the crowd, seeking her, seeking Furbelow. Neither was anywhere to be seen. Where was Max?

He returned to Martha. “Which direction did she go?”

Martha pondered. “I dunno, sir. I were looking this way, and Miss Tommie went that.”

Behind her, which could mean up the stairs, down either wing, or to the kitchen. He headed for the stairs, as she would most likely use her own chamber pot. He took the stairs two at a time, ran down the corridor, and opened her bedchamber door, heedless of propriety.

She wasn’t there.

Max appeared before him, his ghostly form rippling, his eyes black holes of fear. “To the well, come now!”

The well? Nobody could fall down the well. It was securely covered, as safe as a well could be. But if a strong man pried up the cover, he might tip a helpless woman over the edge. His heart in his throat, heedless of everyone, James thudded down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door, then headed toward the well, slipping and sliding on the frozen crust of snow.

“Not that way,” Max said.

He kept going. “The well is right over there!” But he didn’t see Thomasina anywhere.

The other well,” Max said. “The old one.”

* * *

The old well—so ancient no one knew how old—was in the midst of a tangle of bushes thirty yards or so across the front garden. Long before Thomasina was born, the Warren of the day had dug a new one in a more convenient spot. After the low, stone walls of the old well were removed for other purposes, the hole in the ground was covered with planks, with box and hollies planted around it until it was inaccessible.

But not to determined children. Thomasina’s male cousins had pried up the old boards with a crowbar and peered down the horrid, dark hole in the ground. She’d tiptoed close enough for a look and then run away again, promising to tell on them if they didn’t close it up straightaway. They’d laughed at her but closed it all the same.

She crept around the bushes, which seemed completely intact, so perhaps she’d guessed wrong… Surely Joey would have noticed if there’d been footprints in the snow, headed this way… On the other hand, judging by his prowess at cricket, Sam had a powerful throwing arm. She raised her lantern, peering closely. Several holly twigs had been broken on the side away from the house, making a bit of a gap. Thankful for the heavy greatcoat, she ducked her head into its heavy collar and pushed her way through. She raised the lantern and muffled a shriek.

The boards were rotten through! She teetered at the edge of a gaping hole, almost dropped the lantern, and grabbed a stout branch of holly.

“My, my, what have we here? My lovely Thomasina—how convenient.”

Sam was coming through the bushes behind her! She edged around the well, her heart thundering.

“How clever of you to guess,” he said.

She got hold of herself. “The rope is down there.”

He laughed.

“You coiled it and threw it over the shrubbery. That’s why there were no footprints.”