Page 7 of A Rare Find

“Never mind what I said.” Elfreda pushed off Holywell Rock. “There is a feud. It starts today.” She tried to make her eyes into daggers as she stared at Georgina. “You are my enemy.”

Georgina’s eyebrows shot up.

Elfreda addressed herself to Anne. “Goodbye. I hope you enjoy your holiday.”

She gave herself a shake and considered too late—as droplets flew—her resemblance to a wet dog.

She started on her way, embarrassment pinching her shoulder blades together.

Georgina’s voice carried on the breeze, a low murmur, not meant for her ears.

“She’s an eccentric, but she comes by it honestly. That grandfather of hers thought he was a druid.”

“You are ignorant.” Elfreda whirled. “Knowledge looks like eccentricity to fools.” She stepped toward Georgina. “Do you really want to know what I dropped in the pond?”

Georgina was studying her with an expression that mingled mirth and surprise.

“An amulet,” Elfreda said, and that strange thing happened again to her heart. She pushed her fringe from her forehead and scratched at the dirt, at the sign on her skin. She was an archaeologist. “An amulet that verified the presence of the Great Heathen Army on the bluff above the river.”

“Oh my.” Anne gazed eagerly in the direction of the bluff. “And everyone has been talking all these years about the threat from France.”

Elfreda gritted her teeth. “The presence of the Great Heathen Army in the ninth century.”

Anne deflated. “That’s much less exciting.”

“It’s incredibly exciting!” Elfreda threw her arms in the air. “It’s incredibly significant. I’ve dreamed about such a discovery for years.”

Georgina’s eyes had narrowed. She seemed about to speak.

Elfreda heard a rumble, more a faint vibration of earth than a sound. It took her a moment to understand.

When she did, her stomach made a sickly plunge.

“That’s a carriage.” She spoke her fear aloud. “That’s a carriage on the lane. He’s leaving. Mr. Clutterbuck is leaving. I’m too late.”

She hadn’t covered ten yards when her left foot slid from her ruined boot. She wobbled and fell to her knees. From her knees, she watched Georgina sprint past, long legs devouring the ground.

Three more heartbeats, and she’d vaulted the low stone wall and vanished into the hedges.

3

Chasing a carriage down a country lane was fine sport, for a highwayman. But a highwayman would do it on a black stallion, not like this, stumbling along on two less-than-Thoroughbred legs.

Georgie ran for longer than was sensible, and in the end, as was obvious from the beginning, the carriage’s lead proved too great.

A pity.

It would have been satisfying to see something besides accusation in Elf’s bottomless black eyes.

The walk back up the lane dragged on. The landscape was the same as ever, a rolling green patchwork, green fields stitched together with darker green hedgerows. Georgie had an unobstructed view of Marsden Hall. Fortresslike, it jutted from the highest hill, heavy wings of gray stone pierced with lancet windows, crenelated tower etched against the cloudless sky.

Redmayne Manor lay less than a mile south. A redbrick mansion in the Georgian style, airy and symmetrical, with large sash windows and a bright white portico.

The houses themselves would feud if they were able.

You are my enemy.

Elf had been pale with fury when she said it.