Barnabas looked at his son. “What do you know about her?”
Myles puffed his cheeks out. “I don’t really know much about her at all. We only met the once before today. She is rather beautiful, I will admit, but I am not thinking with my pants, father. I am just saying that she was running away from whoever was in those woods. I can only assume that she disturbed them. With the cloaks on they look sinister. Maybe she was so scared, or lost in fear that she didn’t notice her feet as she ran away from them. She certainly left the trees so fast she couldn’t stop until it was too late. A curricle can’t creep up on anybody, foggy weather or not, but she didn’t hear me. She couldn’t have done or she wouldn’t have run out in front of me like that.”
Barnabas had to concede that Myles had a point. He had little doubt that if Myles believed Estelle to be innocent of any wrongdoing then she was innocent of any wrongdoing. Myles was nothing if not a good judge of character.
“So she was in the Whistling Woods,” Barnabas replied thoughtfully. “The Whistling Woods which are reputedly haunted.”
“Yes, but she isn’t dead. Nor were those people who were carrying the lights, who appeared to be chasing her.”
“I wonder if they are relying on folklore to keep people out of the woods,” Barnabas murmured.
“I don’t know but it has to stop,” Myles warned darkly. “I damned well nearly killed her tonight. The next person who gets chased by them might not be so lucky.”
Myles explained what had happened on their journey to the house, and the way the figures had followed him.
“Well, let them stray any closer and we will put them firmly in their places,” Barnabas muttered grimly.
Barnabas stalked toward the window and stared out into the gloom for several moments, in the direction of the main gates. Myles moved to stand beside him. Shoulder-to-shoulder father and son stared out into the fog. Now that he was inside, Myles felt a deep sense of frustration at not being able to take several men back out to round the hooded figures up. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do with them even if they could locate them. Bodmin was at least an hour away by cart, probably two hours in this fog, and that was assuming it was possible to find a safe route through the moors. The alternative was to confine them in the cellars in the house which was too close to the family for comfort.
“Whoever they are they chased her and put her life in danger. Estelle is local, and she saw them. It isn’t safe for her to go home,” Myles explained.
Barnabas nodded. “It has always had a bad reputation; that place. Why, nobody who ever goes near it has a good thing to say about it. I should have felled it many years ago, and be done with the whole damned place. If it wasn’t there anymore maybe the rumours would stop. As it is-” He shook his head when his temper began to stir.
“Others who have been near the place, even in the daytime, have run away from it and have claimed they were chased. I cannot help but feel those people in the hoods, whoever they are, are the reason why.”
Barnabas looked at him. “Why were they wearing hoods?”
“I want to say that they were hiding their identity, but they looked like monks hoods. They were white cloaks, with pointed hoods pulled high over their faces so nobody could see their facial features. To anybody looking at them they appeared monk-like, but were distinctly sinister shrouded in fog like they were,” Myles explained.
Barnabas nodded in complete understanding. “So she ran.”
“You can’t blame her for wanting to get away from them.”
Barnabas turned to look at his son. “You are right. She has to stay, Myles, for as long as possible,” he said firmly. “Whoever her relatives are, they need to be informed that she is alright, but she has to remain with us for the time being. At least until we can find out who those cloaked figures are, and put a stop to whatever it is they are doing.”
“What is it?” Myles looked at his father when he heard the grimness in his father’s voice. Barnabas was busy staring at the fog again.
“Because you were followed here, my boy. Look.” Barnabas didn’t point toward it but turned to stare avidly in the direction of the main gates.
The fog swirled outside of the window. For a few minutes, Myles could see nothing more than that. Then, just as he was about to turn away, the fog cleared for a few precious moments and allowed a brief glimpse of a light still flickering at the end of the driveway.
“Are they still on the property?” Myles murmured, surprised that whoever it was hadn’t gone home by now. Why he was talking quietly he had no idea but he didn’t remove his gaze until the fog swirled again and obliterated the unnerving vision of the light at the end of the garden.
“It seems that they are willing to trespass, yes,” Barnabas replied, his voice cold and dispassionate.
Once they were sure they couldn’t be seen, they both turned away from the window and closed the shutters and curtains. Safely hidden from prying eyes, they returned to the fireplace.
“Do you have any suspicions about who they might be?” Myles asked eventually.
Barnabas stared down at his fine French brandy while he thought about that.
“There have been rumours off and on over the years, but nothing can be proven, if you know what I mean?”
“I can remember hearing stories about that place from Grandfather,” Myles sighed.
Barnabas nodded. “There are also reports that someone mentioned an old hag living in the woods. I took Chalmers and several of the men to take a look a few years back. We searched every inch of those woods but found nothing, so I can only assume it was someone who mistook a villager or something. I don’t know. There are also rumours of an old priory having been located in there at some point in the distant past but I have checked the history books, and there is no mention of any priory in the area. I have gone back as far as 1115AD when the original Icklehampton Hall was built. I have asked the parish clergy, and even written to the Church, nothing.”
“So the priory doesn’t exist. What would that have to do with those cloaked figures though?” Myles asked, feeling more and more uncomfortable about the entire situation the more they spoke.