Free Never to Part by Joan Vincent Page B

one will be that malicious or foolish,” Gunby said. “They know they would answer to you if they do. Go to Biddleage, do,” he urged. “The King’s Head has decent chambers and serves delicious fare along with fine local ale. You can visit the mausoleum. See if there are any dryads about.” Gunby winked. “A mausoleum is like a cave.”
    Mindful of this part of the legend about dryads, Richard scoffed, “Shall I find one making love with Hermes?” He shook his head. “’Tis foolish to even consider going.” He stared at the floor and wrinkled his brow in puzzlement. Were those bits and pieces of laurel leaves moving? Narrowing his eyes he bent to look more closely.
    “Do something,” the invisible Lady Laurel demanded of her husband as she moved behind the present baron. “He must go to Biddleage.”
    With a nod, Lord Ricman vanished.
    The countess closed her eyes and concentrated with all her might. “Go to Biddleage. Go to Biddleage,” she chanted.
    “You know they can’t hear you,” chided her husband, now back at her side.
    “But they do ‘take’ the idea from time to time,” she informed him haughtily. “As you well know. Where did you go?”
    Richard glanced up sharply at Gunby. “What did you say?”
    “I? Nothing,” Christopher protested.
    “There you are my dear.”
    At these words Richard glanced at the library doorway and saw his mother.
    Lady Laurissa smiled and strolled towards them.
    Both gentlemen stood. As they turned to Lady Dremore, Gunby discretely put the parchment sheet behind his back.
    Behind the present baron, unseen by all, the first baroness kissed her husband’s cheek. “Well done, love.”
    “I have decided to stay in this evening as you suggested,” she said.
    Richard gave Gunby a speaking look and tilted his head toward the door. He hoped Christopher took his meaning and escorted his mother to his vacated chair. It would never do to let her catch sight of the parchment. “My plans have changed, Mother. I must go out of town.” With relief Richard saw Gunby turn so his back was to the door, the verse safely out of sight. I shall hold you to our agreement that you will not go out without my escort. I shall return in a day. Two at most.”
    After a silent oath at the foolishness of his decision to follow the clue, Richard added, “I shall return in time for the Avonley soiree so you can attend as you planned.”
    Lady Dremore nodded. “I shall be content with that.”
    A loud thud near a book case turned all three toward it. They saw a book arc as if thrown by an invisible hand and thud loudly to the floor beside the one already there.
    Then Richard saw his cousin Blanchard a few feet from Gunby. He nearly swore.
     

Chapter Seven
     
Biddleage
September 19th
     
    The prosperous village of Biddleage lay northwest of London. Richard arrived at the King’s Head late that night. Their best chamber taken, he settled in the second best and ordered a cot for his valet.
    The fare proved good despite the late hour. Richard noted with a smile that the local ale lived up to Gunby’s testimonial. Relaxed and refreshed the baron returned to his chamber intent on a good night’s sleep. Seeing that his valet had turned the covers on his bed down, Richard was puzzled by the pair of laurel leaves atop the pillow. He frowned, then brushed them off and promptly forgot them.
    After breaking his fast the next morn Richard went for a stroll. Outside the inn he saw the square tower of the church of St. George visible above the rooftops. Wending his way through the narrow side streets he went to the Norman church.
    Relieved to find the cemetery, as was usual, beside the church, he slowly circled the small rectangular stone mausoleum set amidst aged tombstones. Back at its door, he put a hand to the iron ring on the door.
    “’Tis locked, sir,” a deep voice boomed from the right. “James Tailor, vicar of St. George’s,” the slim, pale man said as he approached. He offered