The Secret of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 4) (20 page)

Forty-Five

     
T
albot Sunderland groaned and rolled over in the wide bed at the Billington Hotel. Although the room was not bright, what little light filtered in around the heavy velvet drapes seemed to burn into his eyelids. He pushed aside the coverlet and sat up on the edge of the bed wearing no more than his white knickers, holding his pounding head in his hands. He was slender and well-built, his legs long for a man of average height and he was routinely well groomed.

      He sighed and looked around the room. He remembered checking into the room late the night before. He’d realized he had too much to drink and decided against driving back to the estate. The night had begun much earlier than usual and his aggravation with Louisa had only been an excuse to have a few more rounds than on most occasions.

      “Louisa,” he whispered under his breath. On the nightstand sat the expensive ring he had acquired for her.

      Talbot staggered from the bed to the bath and began his morning ritual.

      Louisa Elgerson was certainly attractive, with her long legs and boyish figure. She turned heads everywhere they went. He could take her to the finest establishment or private party and she immediately became popular with everyone. But her charm was far more than just her looks. Now Talbot understood something about her he had not completely grasped before. Louisa certainly behaved as though she were finely bred and highly educated and had come from the very best of families but at heart she was a country girl. She had been educated by the finest tutors and moved comfortably in aristocratic circles, but underneath it all she was the daughter of a well-to-do frontier family. Louisa’s past wasn’t graced by polished marble halls. Talbot was discovering that Louisa did not want anyone in the city to see she was a country girl. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, a part of her undeniably belonged in the North Country. Talbot grumbled. Now he understood why everyone found her so charming and quaint. “Quaint,” he thought. He had heard the word used many times to describe Louisa Elgerson, and he was certain she would hate hearing that.

      Now he faced a dilemma. How would he get her to accept his proposal and finish her research? Everything depended on it. Everything. At first he was sure she had fallen head over heels in love with him, but he been cautious and careful not to pressure her. A woman her age was waiting for the right man and he wanted more than anything to be that man. He could become the fellow she trusted entirely with everything about herself. Those times when it was hard to be patient with her, he had not pushed her, even those times when he felt he was close to having her in the bed beside him, stretched out without a stitch of clothing. The thought made him fidget and he tried to focus on combing his hair.

      After he arrived at Stavewood he felt more impatient than ever. He’d grown more insistent and attempted to get closer to her. Perhaps that was where he had gone wrong. Part of the problem was that big fellow, the one he had seen her with that first day.

      Talbot scrubbed his shaving brush violently into the soap, working up a thick lather as he thought about Luc Almquist. The man was as big as an oak tree. Why would a woman who had put so much energy into proving she was completely refined be interested in a man like that? It made no sense.

      “I am the one!” Talbot said to his reflection in the looking glass. “She’s in love with me and I simply must not be daunted by her rebuttal. I’m going back and this time I will not tread lightly. It’s time Louisa Elgerson realizes I am completely serious.”

      He brushed his suit carefully and knotted his tie in a neat bow. He collected his driving gloves and bowler. After a strong cup of coffee he would return to Stavewood a more determined man. He pulled the watch from his pocket and checked the time. It was far later in the day than he imagined.

      “No matter,” he said to himself. “I know what I have to do.”

Forty-Six

     
L
ouisa stood before a heavy, wooden door with a large window of frosted glass bearing the words
Minnesota Bureau of Land Management
. She turned the knob and stepped inside where she saw several long lines of people waiting to be helped by clerks behind a counter. The room was stuffy and cluttered, the walls covered with racks of pamphlets and printed forms. Above each clerk’s window was a large, lettered sign. She read them all:
Forestry Management
.
Water Conservation
.
National Park Information
. None of them said anything about cartographers or land preservation. Louisa chose the shortest line.

      “Hello,” said a short bespectacled man, with a smooth shiny pate in an oversized suit and navy blue bow tie. “How may I help you?”

      “I’m trying to get information on one of your land preservation agents. A cartographer who has been working on my family’s property.”

      The agent looked at her with a blank expression. “And where is your property?”

      “Right outside of Billington. He’s been surveying there.”

      “Do you know his name?” The agent picked up his pencil.

      “Luc Almquist.”

      “And what is it you need to know?”

      “I would like you to verify that he is working for the agency and any other information you can give me about him.”

      “Let me see what I can do.” He stood up and walked over to another clerk. Then another. Louisa thought she’d faint. Then he returned and sat in his chair.

      He pulled open a long filing drawer and began to sift through the folders inside. He took a file from the drawer, walked over to another desk and handed it to a secretary in the back of the room. Louisa watched as the woman went through the file, typing occasionally on a blank sheet of paper. Once she had finished she handed the sheet to the bespectacled little man.

      He returned, sat down and looked up at Louisa. “Currently we have twelve surveyors working in this county. This is a list of all of them and none of them are in the Billington area. What did you say this mapmaker’s name was?”

      “Luc Almquist,” she said, her voice wavering. The clerk held his spectacles against his nose as he scanned the names on his list.

      “There is no Luc Almquist working for the county in land management or the Department of Land Preservation.”

      “That’s impossible,” Louisa said. She was stunned.

      “I’m afraid it is, Miss. There is no Luc Almquist working for this office, period. Good day.” He turned his attention to the man in line behind her.

      Louisa stumbled out of the office and sat down on a hard wooden bench in the marbled hallway.

      Luc had lied to her. He had randomly appeared everywhere but he wasn’t mapping. What
was
he doing? Watching her? Watching her family? Watching Stavewood?

      Louisa tried to recall the men’s voices at the gazebo. She had only been able to see one of them from the knees down from the trap door beneath the floor. Was he the other man? Was he Clayton? She buried her head in her hands and tried to make sense of all of it.

      She had trusted him. She had fallen in love with him and now she realized she didn’t know him at all.

      She looked up and saw that the clock on the wall read four forty-eight. The day was slipping away and she had to get home and tell everyone the truth about Luc Almquist. There was a dragon at Stavewood but it was not benevolent. And it may have been sleeping, but Louisa had awakened it.

      “I’m sorry, Miss,” the ticket agent at the station insisted. “You cannot get a train into Billington until nine tomorrow morning. I’m very sorry.”

      Louisa was stranded in Blue Falls. The telegraph office was still open so she decided to send a message home, but what would she say? There was too much to try to explain and she didn’t want to panic anyone. She decided on a short note to keep the family from worrying about her. She scribbled the words quickly onto the paper:

     
Detained in Blue Falls. Will return tomorrow.

                                                  Louisa.

     She handed the form to the telegraph agent, paid the fee and left. There was nothing more she could do.

 
Forty-Seven

     
T
albot pulled the sports car into the lot behind Stavewood at the mills, took his satchel from the boot and closed it with a loud thump. The messenger from the telegraph office passed him coming up the path from the house and nodded to him. Talbot walked up the lane going over all the things he planned to tell Louisa to make her reconsider his proposal. He was certain he could resolve everything between them. He walked around to the front door of the estate, tapped the knocker several times and waited.

      Timothy pulled open the door and looked perplexed. “Talbot? You’re not with Loo?”

      “No, sir,” he responded, as Timothy stepped aside and let him into the house.

      “I thought you two were together. Do you know why she would be in Blue Falls?”

      “She’s not here?”

      “No.” Timothy led Talbot up the hall. “She sent a telegram saying that she was detained in Blue Falls. Is she researching her book there? It’s odd she didn’t tell anyone.”

      “Perhaps,” Talbot responded thoughtfully. “I must admit we had a tiff yesterday and I stayed out all night. I returned to apologize and try to sort things out.”

      “I see,” Timothy said. “I suppose she’s alright. Nothing she does surprises me any longer but you probably have felt that way yourself.”

      “I’m terribly fond of her, you know. But yesterday I may have overstepped my bounds.”

      Timothy eyed Talbot. “Your bounds? Maybe you better tell me what happened.”

      Talbot cleared his throat. “I proposed marriage. I suppose I’ve gotten impatient with Louisa and I fear I have chased her off. That is it, simply put.”

      Timothy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Then you are really serious about her.”

      “Quite!” Talbot responded.

      “I’ll tell you son, Loo was the most stubborn child of all of them. And the one thing I have learned about her over the years is to never put her in a position where she feels cornered. She always comes to her senses sooner or later, but it has to be on her terms.”

      “Ah,” Talbot considered his advice. “Then I suppose this situation requires more patience on my part.”

      “I’d say so,” Timothy said. “She’ll be home tomorrow, I guess. Let her be and she’ll figure it out.” He slapped Talbot on the back.

      Talbot sat at the family dinner table listening to everyone recount their day at the mills, pushing the large portion of meat and potatoes around on his plate. He would have to wait. Louisa likely left her notes in her room and he considered that he could go over whatever information she had compiled to busy himself until she returned home.

      After dinner the family set about playing a parlor game. Talbot excused himself and slipped away upstairs. The sewing room door was open and he picked up the box where she kept her manuscript. He sat down on the bed and began to read silently.

      Louisa had typed several new pages in her book that he hadn’t seen before. There was a new chapter detailing the relationship between Jude and Corissa with references to a secret passageway that he had used to enter the house without the family’s knowledge. She had written a rather racy love scene between them that took place in the very room he was sitting in now. It was clear she had answers to many of the questions she had been asking. After the love scene she described the train robberies and how Jude hid the stolen loot inside the house at Stavewood. She knew how he left the horses in plain sight at the stables. She mentioned cash and even diamonds.

     Talbot wondered how much was speculation and how much was fact. How did she discover all these things since he had seen her last? Had she actually found a secret passageway, or cash, or even diamonds? He looked for the notebook, thinking that it would contain more specifics, but it was nowhere to be found. He knew she would have it with her along with several personal items that were not in the room. The watch he had given her was not there, and of course she always carried that tiny gun.