“There’s a mystery afoot here at Hadleigh Hall.” He clutched two envelopes, yellowed with age, in his hand and shook them. “And I mean to solve it.”
“What the devil are you on about?” The relaxed posture Andrew had exhibited from earlier dissolved. He crossed his arms at his chest and leveled a speculative glare on William. “There are no mysteries here.”
“Remove your head from your arse, Drew. There is, and I’ve found proof,” her brother growled. He didn’t back down under Andrew’s simmering displeasure. “Look. I found these letters in the small secretary in my room. I’d dropped a book, and when I crawled beneath to retrieve it, I whacked my head on the underside of the desk. It sounded odd, so I investigated.” He looked around the room at large with a grin of victory. “There was a false bottom in the desk. These envelopes were hidden inside.” Quickly, he crossed the room and handed one to Andrew. “I didn’t break the seals, for one of them has your name on it. If it’s important, the honor should go to you.”
Andrew frowned as he stared at the envelope. “Dear God, this is Father’s handwriting.” He broke the seal and then slipped out a piece of paper from the envelope. “This is dated a few years before he died.” When he met William’s gaze, the silence in the room was palpable. “Is it possible he had a suspicion he would expire early?”
Excitement rippled over Isobel’s skin. She sprang up from her place on the sofa and approached the men with the intention of reading over one of their shoulders.
Finn shrugged. He stroked his gorgeous blue-grey cat who’d curled up on his lap. “It stands to reason since his father died suddenly and young by an attack of the heart. Perhaps our father thought it might happen and wished to give us a last word?”
“Yet I had a letter from him, given to me shortly after I married…” Andrew’s words trailed off. His frown deepened. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Isobel desperately wanted to know what those letters contained. “Read it then, Cousin Andrew. We’re in suspense.”
Finally, something exciting to delve into!
“Yes, Andrew, please read the letter aloud,” his countess encouraged. Expectation lined her face and twinkled in her eyes behind the spectacles’ lenses. “I do so love a good mystery.”
“All right.” He perused the letter for a few seconds and then began to read. “‘To my sons Andrew, Phineas, and Francis, I hope this missive finds you well. When a man comes to a certain point in his life, he realizes he’s made mistakes… and some of those can’t be readily fixed by merely apologizing.’” Andrew paused. Remarkably, a bit of moisture welled in his eyes. Then he took a deep breath and continued. “‘To that end, I don’t want the three of you to follow in my footsteps, nor do I wish you to cling to old feuds or animosity. So, I’ve devised a game of sorts that will help you in this endeavor. You children always adored those, and it’s my fondest hope you’ll have your cousins around to assist.’”
Finn gasped. “Do you think he wanted the rift between the Stormes to end?”
William shrugged. “It’s entirely possible that once the bone of contention, as it were, cooled, both our fathers wished for reconciliation but were too proud to make the first overture toward peace.” He tapped his envelope against his opposite hand. “Please, go on.”
“Right.” Andrew cleared his throat. “‘Somewhere in Hadleigh Hall I’ve hidden a trunk full of treasure. Only you will know of its value once you find it, but be warned. I’ve hidden it well and in a way that not merely one of you will find it. You must work together and depend on each other. That is the point of this exercise. The first clue to the treasure’s whereabouts is tucked away inside a letter belonging to your cousin William. Both letters should have been found together. My hope is this treasure hunt has found you during the Christmastide season, for what better time is there for bringing a family together?’” A slight tremor had entered Andrew’s voice, but he cleared his throat and soldiered on. “‘In any event, I expect new bonds to form during this bit of entertainment, and in the doing, perhaps the Storme family will find healing. Yours always, Father.’”
“How is that possible?” Finn was the first to break the stunned silence. “If he placed that letter and then referenced the other William holds now, something must have happened to put the two of them in the same room long enough for a temporary truce. God knows they never spoke to each other past our childhoods.”
“I have no idea.” Andrew’s expression reflected his utter bafflement, but his hand shook, and the paper trembled.
“Barring that, how exciting is it that there’s a quest in the offing with treasure to boot?” Daring much, Isobel snatched the paper from Andrew’s lax fingers. She scanned the bold handwriting. “Andrew wasn’t dissembling. Every word in this missive was read aloud.”
“Why would I have a reason to lie?” His chest puffed out, straining the buttons of his waistcoat and jacket. “How dare you accuse me—”
“Andrew, relax.” The reminder from his wife had him deflating like a blacksmith’s bellows. “Your cousin merely made an observation.”
“Yes.” Isobel nodded as excitement bubbled through her chest. “Now there’s something to do instead of watching the snow fall and listen to you boys bicker.”
And during the course of the hunt, she could befriend Doctor Marsden… and perhaps steal a kiss. If not tonight, then definitely tomorrow when holiday greenery was gathered. It had been ages since she’d done that sort of thing with anyone.
William snorted. “I know that look, Isobel, and I caution you to behave.” He glanced at Andrew. “What now?
“I’m not sure.” He took back the letter and then crossed the room to where his mother sat on a sofa a bit removed from the group at large. “Mother? Did you know about this?” He handed her the paper.
“This is indeed written by your father.” Her eyes misted over as she scanned the contents. “It’s been so long since I’ve glimpsed his handwriting.” She brought the letter to her nose. “The years have stolen his scent, I’m afraid.”
Oh, how incredibly sad. Isobel’s heart went out to her aunt. How could anyone survive the loss of a beloved spouse? She vaguely remembered what her uncle had been like, but the one thing she did remember was his booming laugh and how he’d pick each of them up, toss them into the air, and catch them again into his arms with a giant hug. He’d made them fly in those moments, and there was always laughter.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Aunt Lavinia. We all are, and we should have reached out when it happened.”
Immediately, everyone in the room sobered.
Andrew perched on the cushion beside his mother. “Did you know what Father had planned?” he asked softly, and then passed her his handkerchief. The tender gesture tugged at Isobel’s chest. Perhaps he had indeed grown and matured over the years. It infused her with hope that her family could finally find peace.
“Yes, I did.” The smile her aunt flashed was this side of mysterious. “I was instructed years and years ago not to tell you boys anything about this. It had been your father’s fondest hope that you would discover the letters during Christmastide when everyone was once more in Hadleigh Hall—you know how he adored the holiday—for he didn’t believe the division between him and his brother would extend to you children. But then, no one had utilized Hadleigh Hall in years until you took up residence last summer.” She sniffed and dabbed at the moisture on her face with the handkerchief. “I’m so glad the letters have finally been located.” When she gazed about the room, meeting the eyes of everyone present, she nodded. “I hope all of you enjoy the game he made. My husband passed many an hour chuckling over the clues and what your reactions would be.”
“And this?” William waved his envelope about. “Mother, did you have something to do with the treasure hunt as well?”