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Memphis turned the car south, pointed out a few landmarks, then grew quiet. After a few moments, he said, “I’m sorry. I should never have taken you to the bridge. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking.”
She didn’t know what she was thinking, either. Or what she’d been thinking when she succumbed to his charms. She rubbed her forehead, feeling the small scar on her temple. Her headache was worsening. She slipped another Percocet into her hand, and a Fioricet. There was a bottle of Highland Spring in her bag. She downed the pills and grabbed her notebook.
Memphis, I’m getting tired. Why don’t we just head back?
He smiled in relief, as if he’d needed her permission to abort their journey.
“Of course. Let’s go home.”
They were down near Fort Augustus. It took over an hour to make it back to Dulsie Castle.
They passed the time on a much safer topic. The case Memphis was working on, the enigmatic Urq, and the three missing girls. Crime was the one place Memphis and Taylor truly had common ground.
When he pulled through the gate that led to the castle grounds, it was three o’clock. The snow had held off, and pink streaks of sunset were burgeoning through the clouds to the west.
“Let me make it up to you,” Memphis said suddenly.
Taylor just wanted to go lie down and let the aching stop. She wasn’t all that sure she wanted to indulge him anymore, but good ma
All right. What do you have in mind?
“Follow me.” He jumped out of the car, rushed around to her side and got the door open. “Button up your coat, it’s getting cold now.”
Cold was an understatement. It was downright frigid, and damp to boot. She felt it through the coat, carefully put her hands in the pockets, gun-shy after the morning’s adventure. In answer, her finger gave a dull throb.
“We’re heading up here,” he said, then strolled across the gravel forecourt onto a small path. Fifteen feet in, there was a large arched wooden gate, over eight feet tall. Memphis unlocked it and beckoned for her to step inside so he could lock it behind them. The path widened and started up a slight incline. Taylor could see a statue ahead, probably a football field length away. She looked back at the house, realized that there was a straight shot from the front door up this rise.
What’s that?
“You’ll see,” Memphis replied.
She was a little tired of surprises, but followed dutifully anyhow. There was a seven-foot-high stone wall to her left. She couldn’t figure out what was inside. A graveyard, maybe? That uneasy feeling she had from the afternoon returned with a vengeance.
A few minutes later they were at the top of the hill. The statue was of a woman, holding a bow and arrow in one hand. A small owl perched on her right shoulder. It only took Taylor a moment to place her; the plaque at the woman’s feet gave it away.
Athena?
“Yes. She is my father’s favorite. And mine, of course. The sixth earl had this statue commissioned from a minor sculptor, Rama Nardi, in Florence back in the 1500s. He apprenticed with Niccolò di Piero Lamberti, but never lived up to his initial promise. He had a problem with scale that he couldn’t overcome. Look at her feet. They’re much too large for her body. Nardi died before his twenty-fifth birthday, sadly. This is only one of ten pieces of his known to exist in the world. There are four more inside the wall.”
The statue was old, weathered. Small cracks at the base had been repaired.
Doesn’t that make it valuable?
“Certainly. But Nardi wasn’t terribly famous, or good, for that matter. And we’re in a private area of the estate. It would be hard to walk off with her. She weighs quite a bit.”
What is all this?
“Come see,” Memphis said, and steered her around the statue, back to the stone wall.
She was able to see over the edge now. Extensive, beautiful gardens, bordering a small lake in the center.
A secret garden.
It’s lovely.
She could tell he was pleased to surprise her with something good this time.
“Isn’t it? There are several sections, tiers, really. The public is allowed to enter at the bottom but can only come up halfway. There is a small house on the grounds, back over here, where the gardeners live. They’re a couple. Suited to it. It’s been in his family for a couple of centuries. He’s a Dulsie legacy— Oh, see the swans?”
She could, three of them. Two white and one gray, all three big.
“Mute swans. That’s William and Harry. Harry’s short for Harriet, of course. And the gray one, that’s their cygnet, Charles. He’s not quite full-grown, he’s just starting to turn. They’ve been here for years. I like to visit them while I’m home, though Harry tried to bite me once when I went in the water.”
He was trying to distract her. She smiled at him, nodded. She understood. She wasn’t comfortable, either.
The sun was setting now, nearly gone, and the first flakes of snow started to fall. He turned her around and pointed out the view from the other side of Athena, a glorious spill into the valley below. Taylor took a deep breath, and felt the flakes hit her tongue.
I love it.
Memphis pressed something into her hand. It was an iron skeleton key, big and old-fashioned. “Then you must come here anytime you’d like. As you’ve no doubt realized, your rooms face the mountains, not the gardens, which is why you hadn’t seen them yet. But it’s yours to explore. Taylor, I think it’s best… I’m afraid I need to head back to London tomorrow. I have work to do. Will you be all right here on your own?”
Her emotions split in two. She didn’t want him to go, yet she didn’t want him to stay. It would be easier without him around, she was sure of it. She shoved the key in her back pocket and wrote quickly, heedless of her degenerating scrawl. Got it on paper before she changed her mind.
Of course. That’s why I came, isn’t it? To work with Maddee and heal. This is perfect. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done, Memphis. I’m sorry today was so…difficult.
He shook his head. “That was my fault. I don’t know what possessed me to take you to the bridge.” He brushed a piece of snow from her hair. “It wasn’t all bad. No sense in pretending it didn’t happen. Are you sorry?”
She looked at the ground. Am I?
We stopped. Nothing to be sorry for.
Was that true? Would Baldwin feel that way if he knew? The thought of him, his disappointment in her—another person disappointed in her—stabbed her heart. He will never know, Taylor. You will not hurt him like that. This is between you and Memphis.
They were at the bottom of the path now, and the snow was picking up. Memphis borrowed the key from Taylor, let them out and locked the gate behind them. The castle lights were dimmed, only a few private quarters lit up. Saving electricity, Taylor supposed. They both stopped and looked at it, so forlorn, so alone, so stoic. Just like the family contained inside.
Memphis broke the spell. “You’re just not the kind of woman people get over easily,” he said, shrugging. “So, let’s see what Cook has prepared for di
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dear Sam,
I am a fool.
I know what you’re thinking. I can hear you in my head right now, giving me what for. And I’ve always been able to count on you for sound advice.
Memphis kissed me today, on Dulsie Bridge. It’s part of his family lands. Beautiful place. I can’t say that it took me by surprise. We’ve been dancing around the attraction for a while now.