She shoved the tip of the shovel into the dirt-packed crack between two planks in reply. A splintering sound filled the air, a creak as she levered it. A snap that made Libby wince. What would they do if it were just moisture-eaten clothing or a supply of nails that probably would have been much appreciated at the time but was worthless now? Perhaps, from an archaeological perspective, it would still be interesting.

But she had a feeling Lorne and Scofield weren’t overmuch interested in that sort of archaeology. And she couldn’t be sure the unknown American was either.

When Beth shot to her feet a minute later, though, it wasn’t moldy silk or iron in her hands. It was . . . a fork?

Beth frowned and laughed both when she handed one to each of them. “Silver.”

“Ware,” Sheridan added. “Brilliant. And it’s engraved.”

It was indeed. Which wasn’t unusual. All the silver at home had an ornate T upon each and every handle. But this wasn’t just the usual single letter, nor even a full monogram. A name was etched into the handle, elegant and flourished.

Elizabeth.

She looked up at Beth. Beth looked at her. And they both grinned.

Birds suddenly took wing on the opposite side of the castle, crying out as they flew up into the mist. Libby’s pulse quickened. “Someone’s here.” And she’d abandoned her post at the castle’s entrance. Was it Mabena catching them up? One could hope.

But she couldn’t quite believe it. “Stay down, behind that wall. I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”

She made no objection when Oliver and Bram came with her though. And was doubly glad of their presence when they rounded the second corner and came face to face with Lady Emily, her arm in the iron-looking grip of a man who had to be her brother. They shared the same shade of hair, of eye, of skin. But where Emily looked miserable and frightened, Nigel Scofield met them with a grin that looked absolutely wicked.

“Oh good,” he said. “The Tremaynes. And you’ve finally brought me my silver.”

Oliver kept a silent litany of prayers going upward with every step, and he could tell from the occasional movement of Libby’s lips that she was doing the same. He oughtn’t to have had attention enough to be glad over that, given the circumstances. But he was. Even if things went terribly in the next hour, at least he knew that she’d made peace with her Maker, with the Lover of her soul. The One who called her by name and had led her here, right here and now, to find Him more fully.

Scofield, at least, wasn’t brandishing a weapon at them. He seemed to think when he informed them that his associate had Mabena and Casek held nearby that they’d follow along without a peep.