Page 35 of The Virtuoso
“Swim,” Day said. “But we’d best check the pond for monsters first.”
Val and Darius found nothing to indicate the damage went beyond the four loose slates, but before descending, Val sat on the peak of the roof and frowned at Little Weldon visible on the horizon.
“The only logical conclusion is somebody was here over the weekend and thought it might be fun to loosen a few roof tiles,” Val said. “That is a level of mischief bordering on criminal.”
“Not bordering.” Darius’s voice held banked violence. “That’s trespassing, at least; malicious mischief, destruction of property, certainly; attempted murder, possibly. If this is what the local boys consider fun, then you might not want to move in. And I am almost certain you had trespassers here while you were at Belmont’s.”
“How can you know that?”
Darius explained about his gelding’s water bucket, and Val’s expression became thoughtful. “What would a bunch of boys want with a water bucket? And how would they have the expertise to loosen slate tiles?”
“You have a half-dozen masons working on your roof. All it would take is a son or cousin or nephew of one of those men, and the boy would undoubtedly know enough to loosen tiles.”
“But why? Somebody—you, Day, Phil—could have been killed, and I would have been responsible, and it’s not as if most of the local families aren’t benefiting from our work here.”
“You’re right. Who would want to sabotage this project?”
“I don’t know.” Val scanned the bucolic view. “But the scaffold to hold the old chimney stones was built on Friday, and the slates were tight then. Anybody with any powers of observation could see the next step in the task was to pile the fieldstone up on the scaffolding. They loosened the slates, knowing the load on them would increase dramatically as soon as work on the chimney began.”
“Causing the slates to fall and the piled rock to come down with them.” Darius blew out a breath. “Nasty, nasty business.”
“Dangerous.” Val straightened to stand on the peak of the roof. “I’m wondering if we should send Day and Phil back to the professor.”
“They won’t want to go,” Darius said, pursing his lips. “Why don’t you send a note along to Belmont, and he can make the decision. It’s possible Hancock was mistaken and the slates were looser than he thought. It’s also possible this was an isolated incident of mischief by children who could not foresee the dire consequences.”
“I might be overreacting,” Val allowed. “You don’t think so; neither do I.”
“So what now?”
“We take precautions.” Val gave Darius a hand up. “Not the least of which should be a guard here on weekends when the place is deserted.”
“I can stay here. Or we can take turns, or you can hire somebody.”
“I appreciate your willingness to remain, but whoever stays here alone will be at risk and I can’t ask that of you. The locals will be less inclined to hurt one of their own.”
“We can argue about this all week.” Darius began a careful progress toward the ladder. “Right now it appears your neighbor is coming to see what’s amiss.” He nodded in the direction of the wood, and Val saw Ellen emerging from the trees into the yard below.
“God almighty.” Val followed Dare toward the ladder. “And what if she’d been coming to call fifteen minutes ago? Let’s go down. I’d rather she hear it from us, and I’d rather she see for herself we’re unharmed.”
Val presented the situation to Ellen as a mishap with no real harm resulting, but his words were for the benefit of their audience. When he had her to himself, he’d explain the matter more completely and hopefully talk her into staying with the Belmonts until the manor house was restored. Not that he wanted her several miles distant… But he would be visiting on weekends at Candlewick.
Religiously, if she bided there.
***
Ellen was unwilling to impede the afternoon’s work further with her fretting, but she was determined to grill Val thoroughly about the “slight mishap” when they were next private. She’d taken the lane rather than the bridle path to her property, and thus she approached her cottage from the front. As a consequence, she spied for the first time the little pot of pennyroyal on her front steps.
As she yanked the plant from its pot and tossed it on her compost heap, outrage warred with panic. The plant’s presence suggested to her just who might have caused the slates to fall from Valentine Windham’s roof.
Surely she was jumping to an unwarranted conclusion. Not even Freddy would be so stupid as to create havoc like that and leave his damned pennyroyal on her front step like a calling card.
Or would he?
***
“I notice Mrs. FitzEngle does a brisk business.” Val peered at his mug of summer ale as if it held the answers to imponderable mysteries. “Is she really so dependent on her sales? The property seems prosperous, at least her little corner of it.”
“If you want to know about your tenants’ finances,” Rafe, the bartender and coproprietor of The Tired Rooster said, “you’d best be looking in on Mr. Cheatham. He was the late baron’s solicitor, up in Great Weldon. He’d likely know who’s up to date on the rents, since he handles the banking for most around this part of the shire.”
