Silent on the Moor by Deanna Raybourn

and thought you were near. On and on I walked, following the scent of you, and you were never there. When I saw you in the hall tonight, I thought I had finally gone mad.”
    He opened his eyes, and I saw a world of heartbreak there I had never expected. My own eyes filled with tears, and his image shimmered before me.
    “You should leave,” he said finally, his voice thick. “It would be so much the better for you if you did.” His hand tightened over mine.
    “But do you want me to go? Will you send me away?”
    “No.”
    I sagged against him in relief, and his arm came around to catch me close to him. I could feel the beat of his heart under my ear and it was the pulse of all the world to me.
    Suddenly, he drew back and slid a finger under the chainat my neck. He tugged gently, and a pendant slid out from under my gown, a coin struck with the head of Medusa and incised with a code Brisbane had chosen at the end of our first investigation. Those few strokes of the engraver’s steel told me everything about Brisbane’s regard for me that the man himself could not. He turned the pendant over in his hand, then slid it back under the neckline of my gown, his finger warm against my flesh.
    “You will regret it,” he said finally. “You will be sorry you stayed, and you will come to blame me.”
    I stepped back and shook my head. “You said the last time we met I was more your equal than any woman you had ever known. Whatever is amiss here, I am equal to it as well. Good night, Brisbane.”
    He did not bid me good-night, but as he turned to the fire, I heard him murmur, “Forgive me.”
    And I wondered to which of us he was speaking.

THE FOURTH CHAPTER
    She speaks, yet she says nothing.
    —William Shakespeare
Romeo and Juliet
     
     
    “I am afraid there is no other suitable chamber,” Miss Allenby apologised when she showed us up. “I have given you my sister Hilda’s room. She can share with me, and there is a little closet where Mr. Valerius can be accommodated.”
    She meant closet in the medieval sense of the word, a small, panelled room with a narrow bed fitted into the wall and a tiny tiled stove for warmth. Valerius gave me an evil look and slammed the door behind him. He had already shown little grace in carrying up the bags, and I decided to leave him be. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would smooth his ruffled temper.
    Portia and I demurred politely at Miss Allenby giving up her sister’s room to us, but she shook her head. “Oh, but you must have Hilda’s room. It has a pretty view over the moor,and the bed is bigger than mine. We have so little, but we must make you as comfortable as possible.” There was a gentle dignity about her, even as she admitted that the family had fallen on hard times. She showed us to the room, and I was relieved to see it was passable—more heavy, dark oak panelling with furniture to match, what little of it there was. The room appeared to have been stripped of its furnishings save the bed, an enormous monstrosity far too large to fit through either the door or casement. Some long-ago estate carpenter had doubtless assembled it in situ, never dreaming anyone would wish to remove it. There was a small chest beneath the window, and a handful of books stood propped upon the sill, leaning haphazardly against one another. I brushed a fingertip over the first, a heavy volume of green kid.
    It was a compendium of Egyptian hieroglyphics, and rather an advanced one from the look of it. Miss Allenby smiled. “My sister is a devotee of Egyptian history,” she explained. “It is not a very ladylike pastime, but so long as she does not read her books in front of Mama, no one troubles her.”
    “Indeed,” Portia remarked kindly, “Julia’s literary tastes are far more shocking, I assure you.”
    I pulled a face at her, but Miss Allenby said nothing. She was already moving to the fireplace where a fire had been laid in the cold hearth. A warming pan was procured, and Morag