Chapter Twenty-two
“No, Ian, we cannot go in there. Father and Jenkins told us we must leave Miss Browning alone today.”
Isabella glanced up from the book she had been staring at for the past half hour and saw Catherine and Ian hovering in the library doorway. Catherine had been speaking to Ian in a loud, childish whisper, but Isabella clearly heard her remarks.
“Children,” Isabella said, smiling warmly at them, “please come in.”
Isabella placed her book on a nearby table and waited expectantly as Catherine and Ian cautiously entered the room, hand in hand.
This is exactly what I need, Isabella decided.
Shutting herself away all morning had caused her to dwell overlong on her problems, and no matter how hard she tried, her brain would not be stilled from the difficult decisions she faced.
“We aren’t supposed to disturb you,” Catherine said. “It will make Father cross.”
Ian nodded his head in vigorous agreement.
“You are not disturbing me,” Isabella insisted, welcoming the children as both company and distraction. Patting the love seat next to her, Isabella gestured for the children to be seated. “Tell me what you have been doing all morning.”
“We went for a ride with Father, and then Jenkins took us up to see Maggie and the new baby. The baby was sleeping, but Maggie let me rub her back. Ian did too. She felt very soft.”
Isabella focused her complete attention on Catherine as the child continued describing the morning activities, successfully pushing the tumultuous events of the past twenty-four hours from her mind.
“It certainly seems as if you have had a busy morning. Would you like me to read you a story?” Isabella volunteered. She stood up and began searching the library shelves for an appropriate book.
“We’d rather go on an adventure, Miss Browning,” Ian exclaimed.
“An adventure?” Isabella smiled and placed the book firmly back upon the shelf. “What sort of an adventure did you have in mind, Ian?”
“We want to hunt for treasure,” Ian said, swinging his legs restlessly.
Isabella frowned in puzzlement. “Lady Anne’s treasure?
” It seemed such a long time ago that Damien had related the fascinating tale of his ancestor Lady Anne and the cache of gold and jewels legend claimed she had hidden somewhere on the castle grounds.
And even longer since Isabella and the children had fruitlessly searched for it.
“Oh, yes,” Catherine replied, her young face alight with excitement. “It has been ages since we last looked. We promised Father we would not go looking on our own. We need you to come with us.”
Jubilant shouts of glee echoed off the walls at Isabella’s nod of agreement. Feeling proud of herself for being able to make a decision that clearly brought someone happiness, Isabella allowed the children to drag her from the room.
Isabella followed Catherine and Ian up to the third floor.
The children were most insistent about searching this rarely used section of the house, and Isabella willingly indulged them.
The first obstacle they encountered was a sagging oak door that shut off the east wing.
It creaked piercingly as Isabella opened it.
“You must be careful where you walk,” Isabella warned.
“I’m sure this part of the castle has been closed off for many years.”
Isabella stepped carefully onto the scared floorboards, making sure they would support her weight before allowing the children to follow.
They entered a huge hallway, the cool air smelling of dust and mold.
Catherine opened the first door on the right, and Isabella felt a cold blast of air.
She peered into the chamber. Shards of sunlight slanted dimly through the dirty, latticed windows which had several broken and missing panes.
Everywhere were signs of damp and decay.
“I don’t want to go inside,” Ian said. Backing away from the open door, he reached out and took Isabella’s hand.
“It is rather gloomy,” Isabella agreed. “Let’s keep on looking.” She held tightly to Ian’s hand, enjoying the warmth and trust she felt radiating from him. He really was a darling little boy.
“This room is ugly,” Catherine declared, opening another door.
Isabella glanced inside and silently agreed with Catherine’s assessment. The room was a vast, cold, and forbidding chamber with a gigantic fireplace along one wall that stretched to the paneled ceiling. Cobwebs clung stubbornly to all corners of the dismal room.
“I’m afraid all the rooms here will look much the same, children,” Isabella said. “Perhaps we should try another part of the house. We might find chambers that are not in such a state of disrepair.”
Catherine ignored Isabella’s suggestion and continued opening doors. “Oh, this room is beautiful,” she said with a touch of awe in her voice as she pushed the door wide open.
Isabella and Ian murmured in surprised agreement and followed Catherine inside.
The room was bathed in the glow of soft, rose-tinted light, an effect created by the sunlight streaming through the numerous panes of colored window glass.
Although dirty and dusty, this room did not have the same aura as the others.
It was neither cold nor damp, and the cobwebs were barley visible.
“Roses! Look, Miss Browning there are roses cut into the wood. Aren’t they pretty?”
“They are lovely, Catherine.”
Isabella ran her fingers appreciatively over the delicately carved paneling. Ian bravely let go of Isabella’s hand and imitated her movements.
While the children explored the intricate paneling, Isabella wandered slowly about the room, taking in the gentle calm and serenity created by the unusual rose-colored hues.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it, Catherine.” Ian’s voice was filled with remorse. Isabella turned to where the children were standing on the opposite side of the room and saw Ian frown dejectedly at his sister.
“You didn’t break it, silly. You’ve found a secret passage.
” Isabella saw Ian’s eyes grow as wide as saucers when Catherine pushed on a section of panel that was no longer flush with the wall.
Slowly it creaked inward. “Isn’t it marvelous, Miss Browning?
I bet the treasure is hidden in here. I’m going to find it. ”
“Catherine, wait!” Isabella shouted and rushed forward, but she was too late. In the wink of an eye, Catherine disappeared behind the small door.
Isabella somehow managed to catch an edge of the door before it closed. It was heavy, heavier than she expected, but she pushed hard against it with her shoulder and opened the passageway. A strong odor of musty dampness wafted into the room.
“Stay back, Ian,” Isabella commanded. The little boy needed no urging. He obediently stepped away from the wall.
“Miss Browning?” Catherine whispered in a timid, weak voice.
Isabella moved forward and caught a glimpse of Catherine’s features in the shaft of light that reached into the deep cavity. The child’s face was ghost-white, her blue eyes glazed over with an emotion too intense to be fear. “My goodness, what is it Catherine? What is wrong?”
Catherine shook her head vigorously, refusing to speak, seemingly incapable of moving her legs.
Reacting to the terror in the young girl’s eyes, Isabella lunged forward, intending to pull Catherine out.
But she misjudged the distance, and as her hand closed protectively around Catherine’s arm, her hold on the door slipped, and it quickly slammed, shutting them inside.
Isabella stood in the total darkness, immobile for several seconds. The passageway was low, little more than four feet high, and she had to stoop to avoid hitting her head. Isabella could hear Catherine’s rapid breathing and feel the trembling of fear in the small arm she thankfully still held.
“Catherine?” she whispered softly.
The child’s ear-splitting screams echoed off the stone walls.
Isabella’s heart pounded with fright as she reached out blindly with her free hand, took hold of Catherine’s shoulder, and pulled the girl into her arms. She held the screaming child close to her breast, trying to quell the girl’s hysterical sobs.
In the inky darkness, Isabella raised her hand to cup the side of Catherine’s face and tenderly stroked her cheek. Speaking in a firm, soothing voice, Isabella gradually penetrated Catherine’s terror. The child’s deep, painful sobs lessened, then mercifully ceased.
“Gracious. I think this is a bit too much of an adventure. Don’t you agree, Catherine?” Isabella spoke with forced lightness, seeking to control the sudden panic that caused her heart to beat painfully fast.
“I want to get out!” Catherine wailed pitifully. She buried her head against Isabella’s shoulder and sobbed loudly.
“So do I, sweetheart,” Isabella whispered, forcing the sense of impending doom from her voice.
Still holding Catherine in her arms, Isabella inched them both back slowly through the cold darkness, waiting breathlessly to reach the solid bulk of the door.
After an eternity, she encountered it and dropped awkwardly to a squatting position while precariously balancing Catherine in her arms. Isabella flattened her shoulder against what she thought was the outline of the door.
Taking a deep breath, she dug in her heels and pushed with every ounce of strength she possessed. Nothing moved.
Isabella leaned her forehead against the door, refusing to acknowledge the choking fear and sense of terror that welled up inside her.
Shifting Catherine to one side, Isabella freed her right arm and slowly, methodically, ran her hands over the inside wall, desperately searching.
for a lever or lock or latch that would open the door. She found nothing.
Fighting down her rising panic, Isabella put her ear to the door, straining to catch the faintest sounds. “Ian? Ian, are you there?”
“I want you and Catherine to come out now, Miss Browning,” Ian replied, his voice sounding muffled and distant.