Chapter 16 #3
“But Mr. Fraytuck indicated there was a secret entrance that would connect with the vicarage and he would show me the way out via that. Surely this is not what he meant!”
“No, everyone knows about that secret passage. He will, no doubt, send the sheriff and Gisborn off following it. We, however, will take this route.”
“And where will this lead?”
“To the caves.”
“The caves?”
“Under Castle Rock.”
“Good heavens!”
“I suppose you can hide there while I find you something a bit more, er, presentable for walking home.”
“I have my own clothes, thank you very much,” she said, hoisting her packet and waving it for him. “I’m not entirely thick, you know. I didn’t just arrive here at the church dressed this way.”
He didn’t seem to appreciate her cleverness. In fact, he appeared rather scandalized.
“You did not ask poor Fraytuck to help dress you!”
“Of course I did not. Good heavens, what do you take me for? I’m perfectly capable of contriving my own costume. Now, if this is the way we must leave here, then by all means, let’s go.”
It was beyond mortifying to stand here discussing her dressing habits with him.
Her face was burning again and she was eager to do anything but stand here in the flickering light and gaze into his dark azure eyes.
She found it too hard to breathe when his eyes fell on hers and held them with such determination and purpose.
What a relief, then, when he broke off that gaze and turned his focus onto the sconce.
He was able to remove the light and carry it, so at least this time they would not be moving in total darkness.
Cautiously, he started down the hole. When he determined it was safe, he turned to help her down.
She adjusted her quiver, took a deep breath, and joined him on the ancient carved steps.
His body was very close to her as he reached to pull the grate closed overhead. She held very still, pressed against the damp wall until he finished the task. His face was uncomfortably near hers and he grinned when he noticed her discomfort.
“My, what interesting places we meet, Miss Maidland.”
“I thought you said we were in a hurry,” she snapped.
He laughed. “Very well. No time for conversation.”
She breathed easier as he moved slightly away. Together, they began their decent.
His fingers were warm as they encircled hers. She held his hand tightly and moved slowly down, stepping timidly on the damp, worn stone steps. He smiled encouragingly at her and she stumbled a bit. Heavens, but the man’s smile was just as disconcerting as his azure eyes.
Carefully, she followed, clutching his hand for support and clinging to her packet of clothes. The steps spiraled down for what seemed an endless depth, then abruptly ended in a long, narrow passage. There was nothing to do but continue forward.
She was aware of a network of sandstone caves that ran throughout the city.
Carved by human hands hundreds of years ago, they had been used as prisons, chapels, storage areas, tanneries, breweries, and secret lairs for soldiers, refugees, and criminals alike.
Where this particular passage led or what it had been used for, she could only guess.
The narrow way took a sharp turn to the right, then after a hundred feet or so there was a sharp turn to the left.
A few yards in, they found themselves at a junction with a much larger passage, one that had clearly seen much more traffic than the one they had been on.
It seemed to be the way that would lead to their destination and an eventual escape from this subterranean world.
Unfortunately, there was an iron gate between them and the larger passage.
“Is it locked?” she whispered.
Robert found a place on the wall near the gate to hang the light. He grasped the gate and shook it. From the sound of chains rattling and iron clanking, she knew the answer to her question.
“Yes, there’s a chain with a lock,” he replied.
She leaned in to peer over his shoulder. Indeed, the chain seemed very old, but secure. The lock had a layer of rust coating it to indicate that even if they had the key, it would likely not open for them.
“What can we do?” she asked, trying not to sound quite as worried as she suddenly felt.
“I think I can get this,” he said, kneeling down to get a closer look at the lock.
Marianne gritted her teeth and leaned back against the roughly carved wall.
How long had she been gone from home now?
What if she’d been missed? She truly hadn’t thought this escapade through, had she?
Tonight was Mr. Gisborn’s dinner. How would she survive that after putting her nerves through all this!
If she did, somehow, escape this tunnel and make it home without incident, how would she ever pull herself together?
“There,” Robert said.
The lock clicked open and the chain fell to the side. Marianne was quite startled. How had he opened the thing? She’d not notice him produce a key.
“How did you do that?” she asked.
He held up a thick piece of metal; a nail, perhaps. Had he picked the lock with it? How on earth would Robert Locksley—the most unwilling outlaw imaginable—know how to pick a lock? He offered no actual explanation but dazzled her with another one of his smiles.
“I try to be prepared.”
She was dubious. “For this? But how could you possible know you’d need…”
“Oh, but look at you,” he said, his smile fading and concern filling his eyes. “You’re positively shaking.”
She had nothing to say to that, but realized he was right. Between her nerves, her fears, and all that she’d been through in just a few days, she was indeed quite losing her composure. On top of that, the damp air in these tunnels had given her quite a chill.
“Your hands are like ice,” he said, taking her hands and wrapping them in his.
She shivered all the more as he rubbed her hands.
The heat from his larger, stronger hands was like fire.
It seemed to race through her body, catching here and there to light flames deep inside her.
She trembled as every part of her sizzled with a warmth that had nothing to do with air temperature.
Robert’s touch was indeed bringing heat back into her body, but it was doing nothing to help settle her nerves.