Chapter Twenty-three #2
Isabella obligingly fell in step with Jenkins as Damien led the way. While crossing the great hall, the trio unexpectedly bumped into Lord Poole. Isabella could tell from the contemptuous glare Damien cast at Lord Poole that he was annoyed by the interruption.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Lord Poole asked.
“This doesn’t concern you, Poole,” Damien said without breaking stride.
“If it involves Isabella, then it most definitely concerns me,” Lord Poole retorted, stepping forward to block Isabella’s progress.
Everyone stopped. Isabella lowered her eyes, avoiding the probing look Lord Poole sent her way.
She said nothing. Risking a glance beneath her lashes, she saw Damien’s expression darkening.
She sighed loudly. Clearly both men were going to continue to make her the focus of their ongoing feud.
Isabella felt as though she were a prized toy being fought over by two young lads.
This constant battle between Damien and Thomas for her undivided loyalty must cease. Isabella forced herself to stop twisting the folds of her gown between her fingers. It was high time she put her foot down. Lifting her chin, she spoke to her half brother.
“We are going to explore a hidden passageway the children and I discovered this morning. Would you care to join us, Thomas?”
Lord Poole appeared confounded by Isabella’s invitation, but he readily accepted. Damien was silent for a long moment, and Isabella feared he would cancel the proposed expedition. Instead he gave her a level look, then began climbing the staircase.
Relieved at avoiding a scene, Isabella accepted Lord Poole’s arm and they trailed behind Damien and Jenkins.
Seeking a distraction from the palpable tension, Isabella began relating the morning’s startling events to Lord Poole.
When she discovered he had no prior knowledge of Lady Anne’s treasure, Isabella launched into a spirited rendition of the fascinating tale.
“Egad, Saunders,” Lord Poole taunted, “ ’tis hard to imagine you’ve had the solution to your endless financial problems buried in this old relic for over a century.”
Damien neglected to rise to the bait. He flashed Lord Poole the lethal smile that usually sent the faint of heart running for cover. Isabella felt a twinge of sisterly pride when Thomas returned the look measure for measure.
“This is it,” Damien announced when they reached the proper room.
Everyone followed the earl solemnly into the chamber.
He strode directly to the correct wall panel and pressed the latch hidden in the molding. The panel clicked open.
“Fascinating,” Jenkins said.
“Simply amazing,” Lord Poole agreed. He moved forward, reached into his breast coat pocket, and drew out a quizzing glass attached to a black silk ribbon. Holding the magnifying glass up to his eye, Lord Poole peered intently at the panel door. “It is so simple, yet so ingenious.”
“Easy enough for a child to find,” Damien said with a rueful grin. “Help me with these things, Jenkins.”
The two men spread the contents of the sack upon the floor.
“I want a lantern too,” Isabella declared as she observed the valet lighting the wicks and carefully positioning the glass.
“You cannot mean to say you are going traipsing around in that tunnel, Isabella?” Thomas straightened up and gazed at her with acute alarm. “I expressly forbid it.”
“For once we are in agreement,” Damien said. “Isabella, you will wait here with Poole while Jenkins and I go inside.”
“No. It is my decision to make.” Straightening her shoulders, she announced calmly, “I’m going too.”
“Then I must accompany you,” Lord Poole declared. “Pass me a candle.”
Damien snorted, but did not protest. Jenkins handed Lord Poole a lit taper while Damien propped open the panel with two of the large stones he had brought expressly for that purpose.
Extending his arm forward, the earl held his lantern aloft and illuminated the dark cavity.
Isabella moved behind him and peered around his arm.
Dozens of spider webs overhung the passage, and the oddly shaped stone walls caused the lamp to throw strange shadows.
Ignoring the twist of dread that clenched her stomach, Isabella forced herself to take a small step forward.
Her lit lantern dangled at her side. A steady stream of cool air emanated from the passageway, and Isabella wrapped her free arm tightly around her waist to ward off the cold.
The utter quiet was eerie and foreboding, and she was certain all three men could hear her heart pounding.
“Watch your heads,” Damien commanded, crouching low.
The passage opening was only a few feet high.
Crawling on his hands and knees with his lantern thrust before him, Damien entered the tunnel.
As he disappeared, Isabella’s heart rose to her throat.
She thrust her arm out blindly, groping for his hand, but he was already too far ahead.
Mercifully, she managed to catch the edge of his coat.
Holding on tightly with nerveless fingers, Isabella took a lung-filling breath, bent low, and followed the earl. Lord Poole immediately took up the position behind Isabella, and Jenkins brought up the rear.
Something briefly scurried into the glare of Isabella’s lantern light, then darted into the shadows.
She shuddered violently. As terrifying as the dark had been, it was almost preferable.
The lamplight seemed to be awakening mysterious creatures that in Isabella’s opinion were better left undisturbed.
“Drat! My candle has gone out,” Lord Poole exclaimed.
Everyone stopped moving. Nervously, Isabella looked to her own lantern, watching the flame intently. Protected on four sides by sturdy glass, the flame barely wavered.
“There’s a strong draft,” Damien said, lifting his head. “The ceiling appears to be a few feet higher up ahead. We should be able stand there. I brought a flint so we can light your candle, though I’m uncertain it will remain lit in this chilling breeze.”
They all moved soundlessly to the point Damien had indicated. They were able to stand erect in this section of the passageway, though Isabella noted that the earl was forced to stoop his broad shoulders to avoid hitting his head. It was very narrow, so they remained in a single line.
Since she was standing behind the earl, Isabella held Lord Poole’s candle while Damien struck the flint and lit the wick. The candle flame danced merrily for several seconds, then flickered and died out. Cursing softly, Damien tried again. After three attempts, he admitted defeat.
Isabella could tell from Lord Poole’s dour expression that he was annoyed.
She knew Damien would not relinquish his lantern; besides, he was in the lead and must illuminate the way.
Jenkins had not volunteered to give up his lamp, and Isabella was not about to force the issue.
She reluctantly spoke, “You may have my lantern, Thomas.”
Lord Poole instantly accepted her generous offer, and with only a slight hesitation Isabella passed him the lamp. She pocketed the useless candle.
“Stay close to me,” Damien instructed.
“I shall,” Isabella replied, hoping he did not detect the nervous edge in her voice.
Damien continued leading the way. Isabella adjusted her grip on the earl’s coat, and for good measure placed her other hand loosely on his waist. His solid strength and warm body stilled her nerves.
They moved forward together only three steps before the earl abruptly stopped. Isabella could feel the tension and shock suddenly rippling through Damien’s body. Her hand, so tightly gripping his coat, went numb. Something was terribly wrong.
“Damien?”
Isabella shifted to one side, trying to look beyond him at what lay ahead, but his broad shoulders blocked her view. Flattening her back against the cold stone wall, she slowly moved beside him.
The odor was stronger here, choking and musty.
Isabella’s nose wrinkled in protest. Craning her neck, she squinted, determined to see what was causing Damien’s strange reaction.
As she swept the area with a slow, considering eye, she noticed a dark outline of fabric on the stone floor. Or was it something else?
“This morning when we were trapped in here, Catherine insisted someone was lying on the floor. Do you think this is what she saw?”
“It’s impossible,” Damien muttered.
Confused by the remark, Isabella lifted her gaze from the floor and stared at the earl. Through the eerie glow of the lantern, she could see the puzzlement in Damien’s eyes that gradually changed to understanding, then rapidly to horror.
“It’s Emmeline.”
Damien’s voice was a raspy whisper, but Isabella was standing close enough to distinguish the words. Her eyes shot down to the stone floor. It couldn’t be! With a growing sense of dreadful premonition, Isabella studied the dark outline.
She could see now that the fabric had a distinct shape.
It was a woman’s gown, wider on the bottom, narrower near the center, then wide again on the top.
There was a fan of five white sticks spreading out from the top of one narrow band of fabric that Isabella belated realized was the skeletal remains of a human hand.
A thick gold ring encircled one of the finger bones.
Isabella’s blood ran cold. She gasped in shock, her mouth forming a circle. Only through the conscious exercise of tremendous will was she able to remain on her feet.
One of the two great mysteries of Whately Grange was finally solved. Emmeline’s body had been found.