To The Rescue. Jean Barrett
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have no connection with this man. You happened to be passing when you saw his car in the ditch, wasn’t that it? Well, he was fortunate you were on the road and found him.”
Jennifer didn’t correct him, allowing him to believe it was all just by chance.
“Since he owes his life to you, he shouldn’t remain a stranger. Brother Timothy was able to learn his identity from both his driver’s license in his wallet and the passport he carries. His name is Leo McKenzie. An American like you, I believe.”
Leo McKenzie. No, she didn’t recognize the name. It meant nothing to her. “I wonder. Did Brother Timothy happen to find anything else on him?”
She had gone too far in her desire to know whether Leo McKenzie was connected somehow with the London police. Jennifer realized that immediately when Father Stephen gazed at her thoughtfully. Was there a hint of suspicion now in those intelligent blue eyes?
“Did you have something particular in mind?” he asked her slowly.
Hoping to cover her mistake, she turned to the dish of stewed apricots. “Only,” she replied nonchalantly, “that he probably has family or friends somewhere who could be worried about him, and if we knew who they were—”
“They should be contacted. I see what you mean. No, Brother Timothy said nothing about any evidence on him of family or friends. We’ll have to wait until Leo McKenzie is awake to learn that. In any case, nothing can be done in that direction until we can communicate again with the outside world.”
Jennifer began on the apricots. They had a sour flavor, but she didn’t feel she could leave them uneaten, as she had the cheese. It would look as if she didn’t appreciate the meal.
“In the meantime,” the abbot said, getting to his feet, “you and our patient are safe here. I can only give thanks that providence led you out of the storm to our door.”
Jennifer could have left it at that, but she knew that Father Stephen would have to be told at least a part of the truth at some point. It might as well be now.
“I’m afraid it wasn’t anything like that, Father.”
“Then you weren’t lost out on the road when you found us?”
“No. Warley Castle was my destination all along.”
“I see.” Puzzled, the abbot lowered himself again on the stool. “But, of course, I don’t see at all.”
Jennifer tried to explain without telling him what she couldn’t afford to reveal. “I came to see one of the brothers. It’s something that…well, I need his help. I’m not at all certain he can provide it, but I’m hoping he can.”
“One of our order, you say.” He was understandably surprised. “And this would be?”
“Brother Anthony. He is here, isn’t he?”
“He is, yes,” the abbot admitted, sounding suddenly reluctant now. He had to be wondering just why she needed to speak to Brother Anthony. Maybe his position even entitled him to know, but he remained polite. “However, I’m sorry to tell you that you won’t be able to see him.”
“May I ask why, Father?”
“Brother Anthony is cloistered in his cell under a self-imposed vow of silence.”
“I don’t understand.”
The abbot hesitated, looking at her solemnly. Her disappointment must have been all too evident, because in the end he relented.
“I don’t suppose there’s any reason you shouldn’t know. Brother Anthony recently came back from London where he met with an old friend.”
On behalf of the monastery. The abbot probably wouldn’t tell her that, but then he didn’t have to. Jennifer knew all about it.
“This morning,” Father Stephen continued, “Brother Anthony learned of the death of that friend.”
Guy’s murder, Jennifer thought.
“I think you can appreciate just how shocked and upset our Brother Anthony was. His friend was very dear to him.”
“But to restrict himself to his cell…”
“You think it extreme. It isn’t, you know. Not when you understand, as we do, that there are times when one of our order needs absolute solitude for prayer and meditation.”
“I can respect that, Father, but I was just wondering…”
“What?”
“Whether Brother Anthony was troubled even before he heard of his friend’s death.”
Jennifer knew that the monk had, in fact, been worried when he visited Guy in London. Guy had confided as much to her. And this, among other reasons, was what had brought her to Warley Castle. But she couldn’t tell the abbot this without disclosing her connection to Guy. That would be a dangerous admission that could destroy her chance of getting answers.
Or maybe she had already lost her opportunity. She could see by the guarded expression on the abbot’s face that her probing had again been a mistake. He was definitely uncertain about her motives now.
“That isn’t something I can tell you.”
Because he didn’t know, she wondered. Or because he was being protective of Brother Anthony? It was understandable. His role must require him to safeguard all the members of his community.
Jennifer heard the slow tolling of a bell somewhere off in the distance.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” the abbot said, coming to his feet again. “I need to be in the refectory for vespers and our evening meal.”
Jennifer didn’t think it was her imagination that his tone was on the severe side when, crossing the room to the door, he turned to address her again.
“We’ll let you know when Brother Anthony is able to speak to you. I can’t say just when that will be. Until then, you’re welcome to move around the castle. With one exception. I must ask that you not try to visit the wing occupied by the monastery itself.”
A warning because he didn’t trust her not to try to see Brother Anthony in his cell? Or because the brothers’ domain was off limits to any secular outsiders, especially women?
“I’ll remember that.”
“Don’t concern yourself about the tray. It can be collected in the morning. Good night, Miss Rowan.”
He slipped out of the room. She gazed at the door that closed silently behind him. Whatever his wariness with her in the end, she decided that she liked Father Stephen, even though his formal manner and mode of speech struck her as oddly old-fashioned. But then, from the moment of her arrival at Warley, Jennifer had felt as though she’d gone back in time to another age. One in which the innocent battled dark forces. And didn’t always win.
IT HAD BEEN a long and daunting day. Jennifer’s exhaustion should have guaranteed her a solid, uninterrupted sleep when she climbed into bed. It didn’t work that way.
She found herself awake and restless, listening to the mournful wind outside. At some point she heard the soft tolling of the bell again that measured the canonical hours of devotion.
Another hour must have passed before Jennifer realized how cold the room was. The fire had dwindled to smoldering embers. Turning on the bedside lamp, she pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She shivered when she came to her feet. Her robe was draped over the chair. She reached for it, hugging its thick folds around her as she padded on bare feet to the fireplace where she fed the grate with fresh peat chunks from the basket beside the hearth.
Safe, she thought as she crouched there, feeling the heat from the glow that slowly developed. That’s what Father Stephen had told her. That she was safe now in the sanctuary of the monastery.
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