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“You’re smiling, sir. Is that a good thing?”
“Possibly. I do believe a few more pieces of the puzzle may just have fallen into place inside my thick brain. Tell me, Piffkin, if you were to host some satanic rite, where would you do it? Indoors or out? Remember—not to influence your answer—the weather is fairly warm, and it would seem a full moon is mandatory.”
“And perhaps a convenient church ruin somewhere close by, in order to take full advantage of that moon?”
“Perhaps. Convenient or specially constructed, just as many of our more romantical citizens have ordered ruins built on their estates. Coincidently, there’s a large oil painting of the ruins of a stone circle holding place of honor in Mailer’s dining room, so such things may intrigue him.”
“It sounds as if this particular painting intrigues you, as well.”
“Possibly, possibly. A ruined stone circle mimicking Stonehenge or Avebury or any of the others would hardly be remarked on, and even if truly ancient, stories about bloodthirsty Druids and such would be enough to keep the local population from seeking it out during a full moon. However, it wouldn’t appear out of the ordinary for a guest new to Fernwood to stop to admire the thing in the daytime, walk about a bit, kick a few of the stones. If there is one, that is.”
“Try not to scuff your boots.” Piffkin rescued the discarded bouquet and snatched up a vase as he headed for the water pitcher. “There may even be posies, and benches for the ladies to sit and paint watercolors.”
“Before you paint too rosy a picture, remember, we’re only being wishful here right now.”
“And where would this sorry world be, without wishes.” The gold tooth shone for a moment in the sunlight streaming into the bedchamber. “Enjoy your ride, Master Valentine.”
Valentine considered a dismissive hrummph at the man’s hopeful words, but only said, “Thank you, Piffkin.” After all, he hadn’t been raised by wolves.
* * *
DAISYSATCURLEDup in the window embrasure in her small attic room, alternately looking out through the dusty window and turning pages in her diary, reading snippets here and there.
The children were with their nurse, partaking of their luncheon and, after pleading the headache thanks to the bright sun this morning, Daisy had escaped the schoolroom. She would not be needed again until Lady Caroline summoned her for what had become a regular late-afternoon chat. The meetings were outwardly so that Daisy could report on the children’s “progress” under her tutelage, but the children were rarely mentioned. At times Daisy wondered if the woman even remembered their ages.
No, Lady Caroline would talk about her childhood home, her deceased parents, her older sister, who now resided in Canada with her soldier husband.
Sometimes, she simply asked Daisy to kneel with her and pray.
She dreaded meeting with the woman today, could not imagine how she could even look at her without hugging her, telling her how sorry she was...and then grilling her about a small, blonde woman with a beauty mark just at the top outside corner of her mouth.
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