Chapter Twenty-two #2
“We cannot open the door from this side. You must do it, Ian. Can you find the latch?”
“No, no, I can’t!” Ian’s voice rose in volume.
“It’s all right, Ian. You found the latch before, remember? You thought you had broken the wall. I know you can do it, just take your time,” Isabella encouraged. “Try again.”
“I can’t find it,” Ian screeched.
Even through the heavy door, Isabella could hear his whimpering sobs. Apparently, so did Catherine, for she began crying again.
“Don’t fret, Catherine, all will be well,” Isabella said with a show of false bravado. She kissed the top of Catherine’s head and gently stroked her back, trying to calm the child.
Isabella shivered, wishing she believed her own words of comfort.
This was fast becoming a highly dangerous situation.
Ian was clearly incapable of freeing them.
He must go for help, yet the thought froze her.
Would he be able to find his way back to this chamber?
If he couldn’t, she and Catherine might be entombed for hours.
Firmly pushing that terrifying thought from her mind, Isabella spoke to Ian.
“We are going to need some help, Ian. Your father is working in his study. You must find him and bring him here. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Isabella’s heart lurched at Ian’s woebegone response. “I know you are frightened, Ian. But you must trust me. Everything will be fine. Your father will be able to easily open the panel, you’ll see. Go find him, tell him what has happened, and hurry back.”
“I don’t want to leave. I want you to come with me.”
Isabella bit her bottom lip hard. “Please, Ian, go find your father.”
A chilling silence descended, grating on Isabella’s already frayed nerves.
Finally she heard the faint sound of Ian’s footsteps as he left the chamber.
Sagging with relief, Isabella sank down onto the cold, hard floor, pulling Catherine into her lap.
She hugged the child tightly against her chest, as much to bolster her own waning courage as to comfort the little girl.
“I don’t like it in here,” Catherine said. “What is this place?”
“It is probably a priest’s hole,” Isabella replied, grateful for. any distraction. “These chambers were built in many houses during the reign of the Tudors to hide members of the Catholic faith so they could escape religious persecution.”
“Did the priests live in here?”
“No. They would only hide to escape arrest, then leave when the danger had passed.”
“I think a priest is hiding in here right now,” Catherine said, her voice rising in agitation. “I saw one lying on the floor when I walked in here.”
Isabella felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. Surly it was fear and a vivid imagination that caused Catherine to imagine such a horrible thing.
“Put it from your mind, Catherine. I’m sure we are alone in here. What you saw was probably just a trick of the light when you opened the panel door. There is no need to be afraid.”
She rocked the little girl to and fro, humming softly. She knew Catherine could not have seen a priest, but something had badly frightened the girl. And whatever it was, it was still there, lurking in the darkness. Isabella shivered.
Time passed slowly, the silence and darkness becoming even more oppressive.
Isabella placed the back of her hand over her eyes as a cold chill ran up her spine.
She felt as if she was suffocating. She had never been overly fond of closed spaces, and with each passing moment it felt as though the walls and ceiling were closing in on her.
It was difficult to remain calm and rational when all she really wanted was to break through the wall and breathe some clean, fresh air.
Isabella blinked hard several times, trying to shake the atmosphere of unreality.
She felt cold to the very heart, yet she clung stubbornly to the belief that Damien would rescue them.
Soon. Ian was a bright boy. Although he was distraught, he would somehow find his way back.
She must have faith. Cradling the trembling Catherine in her lap, Isabella’s lips began moving in silent prayer.
Ian burst into the earl’s study, running as if the very hounds of hell were chasing him. Damien rose to his feet in confusion and watched his son race across the room.
“Father!” Ian launched himself at the earl. Damien caught the little boy in his arms. “Oh, Father, you must come at once! Something awful has happened to Catherine and Miss Browning!”
A rush of anxiety filled Damien. Crouching down on his knees, he grasped Ian’s shoulders tightly. The little boy’s face crumpled in misery and tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Don’t fret, son,” Damien whispered, his gut wrenching with worry. “Tell me what has happened.”
But Ian was too upset to speak. He threw his arms around Damien’s neck, lowered his forehead to the earl’s shoulder, and sobbed pitifully. The anxiety in Damien’s chest increased tenfold. He had never seen the child so distraught.
Ian had latched onto his father with an iron grip. With difficulty, Damien gently released the boy’s hold from around his neck. He held Ian’s trembling hands reassuringly in his own moist palms.
“Tell me what has happened,” Damien repeated, wiping away a trickling tear with one finger.
Ian took a shuddering breath and began speaking. “They are in the wall. Catherine and Miss Browning. I tried to open it, I really tried, but I could not. Miss Browning told me I must find you. She said you would be able to help them. You will save them, wouldn’t you, Father?”
“You are not making any sense, Ian,” Damien said with frustration. “How can Catherine and Miss Browning be inside a wall?”
“We were having an adventure, looking for Lady Anne’s treasure.
We climbed up lots of steps, and Miss Browning opened a big door that made noise.
It smelled funny, and then Catherine found a pretty room.
I touched the wall and it moved. Catherine called it a secret passage, and Miss Browning said to stop, but Catherine did not.
She walked inside the wall. Then Miss Browning walked inside the wall too, and it shut closed.
And Catherine screamed and screamed. And Miss Browning told me I must open the wall. But I couldn’t Father ... I couldn’t.”
Damien drew Ian’s shivering body close against his chest and wrapped his arms about him.
“Do not cry, Ian. We will find them,” Damien said softly, trying to think straight.
Ian’s bizarre tale was far from logical, but it did make some sense.
And clearly the boy knew where his sister and governess were trapped.
“You must show me where Catherine and Miss Browning are, so we can properly rescue them.”
Ian pulled out of Damien’s hold. The earl tenderly framed the child’s small face with his hands. Tears still brightened the little boy’s eyes, and he tried to bravely blink them away.
“I remember the way, Father,” Ian whispered.
Damien’s throat closed with emotion. “Good boy. Let’s hurry.” Hoping to ease the fear etched in the child’s eyes, Damien added, “Every gentleman knows it is bad form to keep a lady waiting.”
Hand in hand, father and son rushed from the room.
Damien tried not to dwell on the gruesome possibilities as Ian led the way.
Were Catherine or Isabella hurt? Was that the real reason they couldn’t exit from this “secret passage,” as Ian called it?
As a young boy Damien had searched many of the rooms in the old fortress and had never stumbled upon any hidden passageways.
It was, however, quite possible that a room such as Ian described did exist, constructed long ago, perhaps during Cromwell’s time to hide Royalists.
That theory certainly fit nicely with Lady Anne’s inclination for supporting and spying for King Charles.
“This is the room, Father.”
Damien blinked with surprise when he stepped inside and beheld the rose-tinted room. He was certain he had never seen it before since he knew he would not easily have forgotten such an striking effect.
“Here is where the wall moves,” Ian said.
Damien knelt where his son indicated and carefully examined the wall. He saw nothing unusual in the intricately carved paneling. Cupping his hands on either side of his mouth, he shouted loudly at the wall, “Isabella, Catherine, can you hear me?”
“Damien, is that you?”
The words were faint, but distinguishable. Damien smiled weakly as relief shot through him. He had found them.
“Ian brought me here, Isabella. Are you injured? Is Catherine with you?”
“I am here, Father,” Catherine wailed.
“We are fine,” Isabella said. “A bit anxious to get out, however. Ian originally found the latch that releases the panel. It must be fairly low to the ground.”
With renewed determination, Damien continued poking and probing the panel, following Isabella’s advice to search the lower half of the wall.
Suddenly, his fingers found a small latch hidden within the carving of a thorny rose stem.
Excited, Damien pulled on it and the panel miraculously popped open.
“You did it!” Ian cried with delight.
“Help me, son.” The little boy moved forward and they pushed together on one side of the panel. It swung inward and Catherine and Isabella literally tumbled out with a shriek of alarm.
“Thank God,” Damien murmured as he assisted them to their feet.
“Oh, Father, I was so scared.” Catherine wrapped her arms about Damien’s waist and squeezed tightly enough to crack a rib.
Damien hugged his daughter fiercely. Over her head, he fixed his gray eyes directly on Isabella’s pale face, dirt-smudged cheek, and untidy hair.
Damien smiled broadly. She had never looked more beautiful.
He offered her his hand and she grasped it without hesitation.
An aching tenderness filled his soul, and he was stunned by the feelings that swelled in his chest. He loved her. With all his heart. God help him.