Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JULIET 2018

The morning after her Berwick visit, Juliet woke to Rachel's cleaning and gladly accepted a freshly baked scone with her coffee.

"I owe you," Rachel said. "My boys are deliriously happy at seeing Uncle Noah so often, even if it is just hello and goodbye."

"Oh, I'm not trying to—I told him he doesn't need to come over so often. Any questions I have I can ask by phone or email. Really, he's been very helpful."

When Rachel murmured amused agreement, Juliet threw caution to the wind. "Is he … does he … he must have had girlfriends. Or boyfriends," she added hastily.

"He had a partner, Allie, for three years, but she emigrated to Australia eighteen months ago. Noah doesn't even want to move to London, so that was the end of that. I imagine he's not lived the life of a monk in Newcastle, but he hasn't talked about anyone like he's talked about you all these weeks."

"That's nice," Juliet managed.

Rachel had an eye roll that spoke volumes. "You are lame, the pair of you. Do you know what he's been asking me? ‘Do you think I'm moving too fast, Rachel? Do you think Juliet's over her divorce?'" With the stern tone of a mother, she added, "Get on with it and don't make me lock the two of you up in this house together."

Juliet flushed and laughed. Her breath swooped in a way she hadn't felt since her earliest days with Duncan—anticipation and desire and hope mixed into a concoction that could make one feel drunk.

Focus , she told herself. Work .

She had just about reached the end of the war in the school nurse's records from 1918 and picked up her reading there. The weekend before November 11th, a third-year student had apparently broken his leg while outside the school during the night. The nurse didn't offer a lot of commentary in her entries, but to this one she'd added: Must proceed gently with Jasper re. ghost boy. And find a way to barricade the outer doors.

Barricade the outer doors? Juliet wondered if that was about keeping outsiders from coming in—or keeping the boys from getting out. Considering that this boy Jasper had been outside in the middle of the night, probably the latter. And it seemed to be connected to the Havencross ghost.

She told Noah about that entry when he called that night, then answered his questions about her visit with Daniel. He made all the appropriate noises of satisfaction and interest she could wish for. "What's your next step?" he asked.

"I thought I'd explore the chapel ruins. The solicitor who hired me brought up some boxes of Somersby family history, including the original site plans from when Gideon Somersby had the property surveyed before building the main house. I think there might be tunnels marked on this old survey, so I thought I'd take a look."

"What a pity you don't know a trained surveyor who could read your old map and help you decipher it."

She thought of Rachel's advice and Duncan's years of cutting comments and her own fragile but growing confidence. "Noah, would you like to read my map and come exploring with me?"

"I'd love to," he said. "Tomorrow's a slow day. I'll take it off. I can drive to the farmhouse tonight and come over first thing in the morning. Deal?"

When had she last felt so happy? "Deal."

The night passed with only a handful of minor incidents: the sighing sound before speech, the distant thunder of horses in her dreams, the impression of light coming from the corridor outside her bedroom. It had become so familiar that she wondered if she'd be more disturbed if she didn't experience anything.

She dressed warmly in the morning and had the nineteenth-century plans spread out on a 1950s army desk in the old school dining hall when Noah arrived.

The first thing he said was "Rachel told me to bring you back for tea today, and I'm pretty sure she's going to beg you to spend Christmas with us, so be ready with strong excuses if you don't want to. She's worried about you being all alone without family."

It had been years since Juliet had spent Christmas with anyone but Duncan—and last year he'd left at noon and hadn't returned for hours. Mentally, Juliet started making a gift list for all the Bennetts.

Noah had brought a clean copy of his Havencross surveyor's map and used it to mark symbols from the Victorian map as he explained to Juliet what they meant.

"Property boundary lines, the current house, the river and bridge, road." He pointed out each one as he spoke as Juliet nodded. "Those are all marked with lines. The abbey ruins are the ones indicated by the dashed lines."

She touched the outline of a small circle that lay on the far side of the medieval chapel. "What's that?"

"The original well. It's been covered over for at least a hundred and fifty years. When they ran water lines to the house, they found that the sides of the well had collapsed in and made it unusable."

"I don't suppose there are any topographical symbols for concealed tunnel openings?"

"They wouldn't stay concealed if they were marked on a map," he pointed out reasonably.

"All right, let's get to work. What exactly are we going to do?"

He grinned. "We're going to behave like Rachel's boys—turn over everything of possible interest that catches our eyes. And get good and dirty in the process."

He wasn't joking. By the time they'd covered the tumbled foundation walls for two of the abbey buildings—the cloister and chapter house he called them—Juliet was sweaty and sore.

"Who knew crawling around on your hands and knees, poking into every possible crevice, could be so exhausting?" Juliet leaned back on her heels and used one gloved hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Oh wait—I totally knew that. It's why I'm a historian and not a landscaper or builder."

Noah's laugh reached in and scooped out her breath. It was a laugh she could listen to forever, because there was nothing cynical or ironic or cruel behind it.

"Short of digging up the ground, I'd say we've exhausted the possibilities here. Like you, I think the chapel is our best bet. It's a sacred space that was supposed to give invaders pause. Didn't work that way in practice, but it still seems the easiest place from which to smuggle objects or hide people underground."

"Shall we have lunch first, then tackle the chapel?"

"Perfect—because Rachel sent food."

It was Juliet's turn to laugh. "I love your sister."

It slipped out naturally and before Juliet could feel awkward, Noah said, "I think she feels the same about you. Even though we grew up here and she loves raising the boys on the farm, she gets lonely during the week without Antonia."

"Pity I'm only here for the winter."

Did she imagine that Noah's eyes lingered as he helped her stand? "A great pity."

After a fortifying, warming meal at Clarissa's Formica table in the small kitchen, they tramped out back to the chapel. The roof was long gone, but it retained its walls up to ten or twelve feet in places, and there were flat slate grave slabs along both long sides of the nave.

"So, if you were a secret tunnel entrance where would you be?" Juliet murmured.

They quartered the space systematically, guided by Noah's expertise. He started at the doorway end, and Juliet at the altar end. When she took a break to get a drink from her water bottle, he stretched in an unfairly alluring way and joined her.

"You hum when you work," he noted. "Did you know that?"

Juliet bit her lip for a second. "I know. I forget that I'm doing it. It must be so loud if you could hear me! I know it's annoying."

Noah caught her by the arm. "Who told you that?"

"What?"

"Who told you that your humming was annoying? Because a) they're wrong, and b) why are you hanging out with anyone who would say such a thing?"

"I'm not … I mean, I'm not hanging out with anyone these days. Except ghosts."

"I'm serious, Juliet."

Did she dare? Juliet swallowed, keeping her gaze locked on Noah's kind hazel eyes. "My ex-husband was a fan of silence. Except when he was talking. I used to sing to myself when I was alone, ever since I was little. Most of the time, I honestly don't realize I'm humming. I'm sure it can be irritating."

He dropped his hand but remained standing near enough for Juliet to see the rise and fall of his breath even beneath his coat. His eyes were so unfairly lovely, but it was his expression that stopped her. Had anyone ever looked at her with such a mix of affection and concern? It caught at her throat, and she almost turned away.

"Juliet …"

Her phone rang, breaking the moment. Juliet fumbled to get it out of her coat pocket and stared at the unknown caller alert. At least answering would give her something to do. Noah had already turned his attention away to a grave by the north wall, dropping to hands and knees to feel along the base.

Juliet answered. "Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Juliet Whittier?"

"Stratford," she corrected. "Who is this?"

"Right, sorry. This is Kelsey Thorn? Ummm, from the university?"

Duncan's Kelsey, the one with the new baby—no wonder she sounded tentative, as though she expected Juliet to scream and throw things at her even from across the Atlantic.

"What do you want, Kelsey? If it's congratulations on your—" She choked on the word son .

"No! No, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I know the last thing you must want is to hear from me, but there's something I thought you should know."

"What?"

In a rush of words and breath, Kelsey said, "Duncan's looking for you. He's angry. Really angry. Mostly he's angry at me at the moment—I wasn't thinking when I posted the photos, the university saw them and figured out he'd been … that we'd been … while I was still his student. Anyway, he thinks it was you who told them. He's been suspended, pending an investigation into our relationship. When he found out, he was gone for two nights. Then he came home furious and drunk, and I threw him out. He was ranting about you, about how this would never have happened if only you'd understood him, you should never have left him—"

"I'm well aware that Duncan blames me for everything." Juliet paused, an unwilling concern prompting her to ask "Are you safe? You and the … he hasn't hurt you?"

"Pushed me against the wall. But I'm okay. I've gone home to my parents. He can't get to us here. But I think he's determined to get to you."

"I wish him luck," Juliet said drily, thinking of the ocean between them. "I suppose I should thank you for thinking of me. Finally."

She could hear the flush of shame in the girl's voice. "I really am very sorry. I didn't mean to … He can be very persuasive."

Juliet closed her eyes, remembering Duncan's gift of focusing on you so intently that you believed there was no one else in the world he'd ever looked at in the same way. His teasing, caressing hands, his voice smoky with desire … She suddenly snapped into anger. "You should keep away from him, Kelsey, for good. I'm not saying that as a jealous ex-wife either. I'm saying it as a woman. Keep clear of Duncan Whittier."

She cut off the call even as the girl fumbled out a thank-you.

"Juliet?"

Noah's voice wasn't smoky in the least. It was bright and clear, like sunlight dancing on a stream.

She prepared to make excuses for the interruption, but despite the heated conversation he'd heard half of, Noah wasn't even looking her way. He squatted next to a grave slab, his hands resting on the top edge. No, not resting—lifting. She came closer as he lifted and shoved the slab away from him to reveal a hole. But not a hole filled with a coffin or bones.

"I think we found it."