A treasure map, hidden all this time beneath her stockings. Libby sank to a seat on the little desk chair while Beth flipped the parchment over and spread it on the top of the chest.
“If you’ve retrieved it, do bring it out here so the rest of us can see it, Beth,” Oliver called. The gentlemen, of course, hadn’t followed them into the bedroom. Which was good, because if they had, this whole situation would feel even more surreal, the place even less Libby’s, despite all her things still taking up residence.
Or some of them. Nearly half her belongings were in her room at the Moons’ now. And Darling had been curled up happily in Mrs. Moon’s lap when they left, seeming to have adjusted rather well to his new mobile life. The only possession still in this room that shouted her ownership was the microscope at her elbow.
This wasn’t really her room, wasn’t really her life. But being here had made the world of London and Telford Hall seem so far away, so unattractive.
She glanced out the door, catching a glimpse of her brother. He hadn’t said anything else about leaving—yet. Not while his best friend was set on finding a pirate treasure, not while Mamm-wynn was still largely unresponsive. But he would soon. He’d grant her a week, if she was lucky. It wasn’t enough though. If a month had been enough time to make her think this was where she truly belonged, one more week wasn’t enough to satisfy that yearning to curl into her place here. The rest of the summer wouldn’t be either. She wanted to see autumn paint its colors over the heather and gorse. She wanted to note the birds that left, the others to come. She wanted to watch for seals and whales and who knew what else as winter winds danced around the islands. She wanted to see fresh life spring up again months before it did on the mainland, covering the fields in flowers that the locals would harvest and send inland.
“Are you coming?” Mabena’s hand landed on her shoulder, her voice intruding softly.
Libby forced a smile but barely glanced away from the window she’d been staring out. “In a minute. Go on. I just need to memorize the view a bit more.” Who knew when next she’d see it? She meant to stay on Tresco until Mamm-wynn was well. After which Bram would try to make her go home. Try to make her marry Sheridan, who still hadn’t had the sense to object. And Mama would push for the same.
But what could she really do to argue? She had no means of her own with which to stay here—her inheritance was all tied to her dowry or held in trust by her brother. She was at the mercy of her family. Which had never been so bad before, but now . . .
She could hear her companions in the other room, their voices an odd collection she’d never expected to hear grouped together. Bram and Sheridan verbally jostled each other—probably as they physically jostled each other for the best view of the map.
“Easy, gentlemen.” Beth sounded half-amused and half-impatient with them. “We can’t even know for certain if it is a treasure map.”
“But it has an X!” Sheridan’s voice, other than being too deep, sounded exactly like a lad’s on Christmas morning.
“There are no landmarks though, no outlines to give us a hint as to which island it is.” Oliver, his tone contemplative. “How would we know where to begin or what it denotes? It could be leading anywhere. There isn’t even a compass rose to tell us how to orient it.”
“That was my concern too, hence why I’ve been using the copy I made of this original in a variety of locations. But up here in the corner—you’ll see what looks like ‘from the John.’ And that M made me think Mucknell. And look here.” A tapping, presumably as Beth pointed to something. “It says cave. Or maybe cavern—there’s a bit of water damage here. Which means, if it’s Scilly—”
“Piper’s Hole.” Mabena let loose a long breath. “On Tresco?”
“That was where I searched first, it being so near home. And I’ve looked several times since in the last month.”
Oliver’s huff might have been a laugh. Maybe. “Why do I have the feeling that if we noted when you’d been there, it would align with Enyon’s sleepless nights?”
Beth sounded sheepish as she said, “I’ve tried to be quiet.”
“Found nothing though, I assume?” Sheridan again, and the lad at Christmas had turned into one whose promise of his first fox hunt had been ruined by a downpour.
“No.”
“What about the Piper’s Hole here on St. Mary’s?” Oliver again, though not so much musing as enlightened. “That’s why you wanted to come here for the summer.”
“Well, I couldn’t just go poking around in the daytime. There are too many tourists about. I needed to be somewhere that I could easily do my exploring without anyone knowing. Though, again—nothing.”
“All right. What about where you found the map? Not that you’ve told us that bit.” Oliver seemed to be striving for patience in his tone, though she could hear its ragged edge. “Was there anything else in the same place that could be helpful?”
A beat of silence that spoke quite loudly. Louder than Beth’s voice when next she spoke. “Letters. From Mucknell to his wife. One of them mentioned that he would send her a songbird as a gift. I thought it was code, since that last ship was the Canary.”
“Secret codes. Perfect.” The lad at Christmas was back. “And that was the one with the silver, yes?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t find any other clues in the letters.”
“Well, get them out! I mean, that is—you could. We could help?”
Beth sighed. “I don’t have them here on St. Mary’s. They’re . . . back in the place where I found them. For safekeeping. But I’ll fetch them later.”
Libby really ought to go out and join them. And she did want to see the map—not that she’d have any better idea what it might be denoting than the locals did. And if it were water damaged, how could they even be sure they had all the necessary information? With a quiet sigh, she rested a finger on the mirror of the microscope and gave it a twirl. Light flashed over the walls, floor, ceiling. And into her mind.
Water damage—it would have washed away most of the ink. But not necessarily all of it. Just what was visible to the naked eye.
She surged to her feet, gripping the neck of her microscope. Maybe she did have something to offer. She hurried into the outer room and to the kitchen table around which the others all huddled. “I may be able to help!”
They turned to her, their varied expressions saying so much about them. Her brother—doubtful. Sheridan—surprised she was still there. Mabena—indulgent. Beth and Lady Emily—curious.
Oliver—perfectly confident in her.
She smiled and moved to the table, nudging Oliver out of the way so that she could capture the light from the window.
He didn’t seem to mind. “Excellent thought, Libby. We may be able to see under magnification what we can’t normally.”
Bram, predictably, snarled. “Libby? Her name is Lady Eliz—”
“Really, Bram. Give it a rest.” She sat in the chair Oliver held out for her and nudged the mirror until it caught the sunlight and angled it up through her eyepiece. The brilliance brought Orfeo springing up, but she’d only managed to hum the first four notes before Bram’s snort of laughter silenced her. Clearing her throat, she looked up at Beth. “May I?”