My eyes implored him to be serious. 'It's important.'
'Well, then,' he said, 'I guess I'd better find it, hadn't I?'
He took an energetic stab at the soil by his knee, setting loose a shower of tiny wildflowers that scattered to the wind, and we both heard the sharper, ringing sound as the ice pick's blade struck stone.
For a full minute neither of us spoke, and then I was on my knees beside him, both of us tearing into the earth with pick and hands and trowel, ripping away the turf to expose the smooth white stone beneath. When Geoff reached past me to brush the clinging dirt from the worn inscription, his fingers were not altogether steady.
'Louise de Mornay,' he read the words out loud. He brushed more dirt from the surface, and sat back on his heels, turning his head to meet my eyes. 'My God,' he said.
'I know. Join the club.' I brushed the hair from my eyes. 'You ought to try it from my angle.'
He squinted up at the sun for a moment, then rubbed his dirt-stained hands against his jeans and rose slowly to his feet. 'How be we take a bit of a breather?' His voice was deliberately light. 'Have some lunch. It'll give me time to absorb all this.'
'All right.'
Back in the west passage, I headed automatically toward the kitchen, and Geoff caught me by the elbow.
'Not here,' he said. 'I'd rather get out of here for an hour or so, if you don't mind. Let's go to the Lion.'
It was a short walk, and a silent one. I was so lost in thought that I nearly walked straight past my own brother seated on one of the bar stools, and probably would have done if Vivien hadn't said something to me.
'Look who's here!' was what she said. 'He couldn't get an answer up at the house, so he came down here to keep us company.'
'I figured you'd turn up sooner or later,' Tom said. His kiss smelled of Scotch, and as we drew apart I turned to cast a faintly accusatory glance at Iain, sitting in his usual place at the bar, one stool over.
'Have you been getting my brother drunk?' I asked him.
'Have a heart,' he told me, with a slow wink. 'I'm trying to keep up with him.'
'Hmmm. Another day off?' I asked Tom, and he smiled.
'Yes. Aren't curates wonderful.' His gaze slid past me. 'It's Geoff, isn't it?' he said, holding out his hand in greeting. 'Nice to see you again. Can I buy you a drink?'
How like my brother, I thought warmly, to dip into his own shallow pockets to treat a millionaire to a pint of beer. Geoff accepted the offer graciously, and within minutes we were all four settled in a row along the bar, with Vivien leaning on her elbows facing us. Iain lifted his drink, nudging Tom's arm.
'What's that you were saying about Morrisey?' he asked my brother.
'He'll never stand up to Conner.'
Geoff looked inquiringly at Vivien, and she rolled her eyes back at us. 'Chess match,' she explained, 'if you can believe it. We've run the gamut of conversation topics this past hour.'
Tom wasn't listening. 'Ned,' he called along the bar, 'what does it say in there about Morrisey's chances?'
Ned flipped a page of his newspaper and answered without lifting his head. 'Doesn't have a snowball's chance,' was his summation, and Tom looked vindicated.
'See?'
'You're way off beam.' Iain shook his head. 'Morrisey is a Scotsman, after all.'
'Precisely.' My brother smiled into his beer, and a sly look entered Iain's gray eyes.
'Would you care to make a wee wager on it, then?'
Geoff intervened, raising a warning hand. 'Be careful, Tom,' he advised my brother. 'I've lost more money to this man than I'd care to mention.'
Tom wavered, but only for a moment. He had never been able to resist a 'wee wager.' 'Five pounds,' he offered.
'Done.'
Iain sealed the bet with a handshake, let his eyes twinkle briefly at Geoff, and lit a cigarette. 'You look bloody awful,' he told his friend bluntly. 'What the devil have you been up to?'
'It's Julia's fault, really,' Geoff replied, passing on the blame. 'I haven't slept since I got back from London.'
I cringed mentally at his choice of words. Three pairs of eyes swung speculatively in our direction. Even Ned glanced over at us before turning to the next page of his paper. Geoff caught his mistake and grinned broadly.
'Get your minds out of the gutter, you lot. As a matter of fact, we've been sitting up going over some of the old history of the Hall.'
Not exactly a lie, I thought, congratulating him silently on his truth-twisting abilities. Beside me, Tom lifted a dark eyebrow in an unspoken question, and I nodded imperceptibly. The message flashed clearly between us: Yes, I've told him, and Tom shifted his gaze from me to Geoff with new and sudden interest.
'We found something interesting, actually,' Geoff was saying, toying casually with his glass of beer. He looked at Iain. 'Remember how you always said that my courtyard felt like a tomb?'
'Aye.'
'Well, it is. We found a headstone buried in the weeds. William de Mornay's wife.'
'First or second?' Vivien asked, and Geoff frowned.
'What, wife?'
'No, William. First or second?'
'Oh.' Geoff’s face cleared. 'Second. The Cavalier chap who got sent to the Tower.'
Vivien raised her eyebrows. 'Why would they have buried her in the courtyard? Wasn't the church the usual place?'