that Josiah learned of at least one of the ways in which his sister and her seducer had cultivated their illicit relationship. On a chilly October morning when Josiah was walking in the jardin anglais behind Crosswicks, tormented by thoughts of where he might search next for Annabel, for all his attempts to find her had come to naught, he was approached, hesitantly, by the head gardener—an older man who’d been in the employ of the Slades for decades, and had known each of the Slade grandchildren from infancy. The gardener confessed to Josiah, in a voice of chagrin and regret, that he hoped he had not failed to prevent the tragedy of Josiah’s sister’s disappearance by remaining silent when he might have spoken out to Mr. Slade, or Annabel’s parents, or Josiah himself. For, it seemed, he had “many times” observed Miss Annabel leaving sealed letters in the rotted hollow of an enormous, ancient wych elm in the lower garden, through much of April and all of May; and though he kept watch a dozen times, in secrecy, he’d never so much as glimpsed the person who came for Annabel’s letter, and left another in its place addressed, in a firm hand miss annabel slade.
