Free Anne Barbour by Lord Glenravens Return Page B

several volumes, and next to them, a candlestick containing a burned-down stub. She frowned. Surely, when she had been here yesterday, all the books had been shelved.
    She brushed her fingers through the recently disturbed dust on the table. Two books had been set aside, and she glanced absently at their tides. Cobbett’s Rural Rides— she was familiar with that one, having read Mr. Cobbett’s curmudgeonly comments on the state of the nation some years ago—and another volume with which she was unfamiliar— Observations on a Rural Scene.
    Uneasily, she reshelved the books, dusting them as she did so. Perhaps Aunt Gussie had come down to the library for something to read before retiring for the night. She herself had removed several books to her room for this purpose. However, Claudia thought it highly unlikely that her aunt would do so, since Aunt Gussie was not a reader, and relied on a tisane if she needed something to make her drowsy. After a moment’s thought, she moved lightly from the room, pausing only when she reached the butler’s quarters.
    Feeling inexplicably guilty, she pushed the door open and slipped inside. There, on a small table lay a leather-bound volume. So, it had indeed been he who had been helping himself to her books.
    Not that she minded, of course. She had told all the servants they were welcome to select volumes of their choice at any time. Not that any of them had ever taken her up on her offer. Still, it made her uneasy to think of the man prowling about the house in the dead of night. Idly, she picked up the book and glanced at the title. A History of the Standish Family! She let the book drop from her trembling fingers and rushed headlong from the room.
    Back in the hall, she mechanically applied beeswax to the balustrade of the great staircase. How was she to go about discovering what January was up to? Emanuel had employed an attorney of sorts, but she was unwilling to confide in him. She had not trusted Cornelius Welker when Emanuel was alive, and she trusted him even less now. She recalled the ill-concealed eagerness he had displayed at her husband’s obsequies.
    “If you’ll just put everything in my hands, my dear young lady,” he had pronounced in tones so oily that she could almost see the words sliding down his chin, “I shall be happy to assume the duties of running the estate, a burden that no person of your youth and inexperience should have to shoulder.”
    My dear young lady, indeed! She had sent the man off with a flea in his ear, and had gone to his office a few days later to retrieve all Emanuel’s important documents from his unwilling hands. She had not heard from him since, and she could scarcely go to him now and ask for his help in ridding her of a possible threat to her ownership of Ravencroft.
    She supposed she could go to Thomas. She almost smiled as she pictured Thomas’s reaction to the merest hint that her possession was in jeopardy. Unfortunately, his method of dealing with the problem would most likely only make things worse, Thomas being in favor of the confrontational approach to matters.
    No, she was all alone in this. She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of going against the unknown Standish by herself. He was not precisely sinister, yet she had received the definite impression that crossing swords with him would be dangerous and would irrevocably alter the course of her life.
    She turned to her polishing, when a faint noise from outside made her lift her head. In a moment, the sound became identifiable as hoofbeats and the harness jingle of a carriage. Curious, she moved to the great front door, pausing to peer through one of the mullioned windows that overlooked the drive. Gasping, she dropped rag and polish and ran toward the kitchens, calling “Aunt! Aunt Gussie!”
     

Chapter Six
     
    Responding to the frantic note in her niece’s voice, Augusta Melksham burst into the great hall before Claudia had taken very many steps. She, too,