Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
The red mark of a palm print, the torn dress, and muddied cloak all testified to the abigail’s story, yet Richard was loath to believe her words could be true.
After she finished, they handed Francis over to the housekeeper.
Birch rubbed his chin and paced as was his habit when he was thinking. “I dislike her story. While it rings of truth, it is equally impossible. Her Grace never takes her abigail with her when she takes the dog for a walk.”
Yates nodded his agreement. “I have men riding the perimeter of the estate. If they had seen signs of horses, they would have reported.”
“Still, a farmer’s wagon might not have been noticed.” Richard stood. “I should go after them.”
Yates stopped him with a hand on his arm. “No, Your Grace. It could be a trap. I’ll take two men and we will track the abigail’s route. We will know soon enough if she lies.”
“Very well, then. Has the master of the hounds been sent for?” Richard directed his question to Harding, who stood near the door, not willing to behave less than the butler even in dire circumstances.
“Yes, Your Grace. I sent a stable boy so that the older men could continue their work.” Harding cleared his throat. “Might I suggest some refreshment? You have been at this for hours.”
“How can I eat if I do not know if Jane has food or what manner of men have abducted her?”
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Birch stopped his pacing. “It will not help her either for you to become ill or fatigued in the waiting. I suggest you return to your study. There is little any of us can do in this room. I am going to inspect the third floor myself.”
The advice seemed sensible; he would be easily found in the study, and he would be out of the way of searching servants who knew Redbridge better than he.
Should he send an express to her sisters?
To what end? Such news would only scare them.
Michael would surely have some ideas they had not thought of.
A disturbance in the entrance hall stopped Richard en route to his study.
He turned to a familiar bark. Duke struggled to get out of the hound master’s arms.
“Careful, Your Grace, the dog is injured.” Marsh set the dog on the floor.
Richard crouched down to meet Duke, who barked and wagged his tail before letting out a mournful whimper. “What is wrong with him?”
“I believe he has been kicked, perhaps a broken rib. He’s been walking for a while, his coat is full of burrs, and it was clean this morning. I am glad ye summoned me, or I might not have found him in time.”
“He was between the kennels and the house?” Richard scratched behind Duke’s ears.
“From the looks of his coat and paws, he has been through the woods. I removed a sticker from his paw as I walked up.”
Richard addressed Hanover. “See Marsh has whatever he needs to nurse Duke back to health.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I wish you could talk, boy.” Richard gave Duke a final scratch before standing. He turned to go to his study, and Duke barked, following him. “No, boy, you need to be tended to.”
Richard took a few more steps and was stopped by Duke nipping the leg of his trousers.
“What the devil, dog?”
“My apologies, Your Grace, I’ll take him at once. He has never tried to bite anyone before.” Marsh stepped closer.
Duke released Richard’s pant leg and barked again. When the master of the hounds reached for the dog, Duke growled at him.
Marsh began another apology, Richard cut him off. “No. I think Duke wants me to follow him.”
Richard crouched low and scratched Duke’s ears. “Can you find Jane? I mean, Find Her Grace.”
Duke barked and led the way back to the entrance hall. However, instead of going to the door held open by the butler, he started up the grand staircase.
“I am afraid you are wrong, Your Grace,” said Marsh.
Duke turned on the landing and barked again. Richard followed. Instead of turning towards Jane’s rooms, Duke marched into the guest wing, now followed by Richard, the master of the hounds, a footman, and Birch, who came from one of the servants’ stairways.
Duke stopped at the closed door of the King’s chambers and barked again.
Richard tried the doorknob.
Locked.
“Hasn’t this corridor been searched? Why is the door locked?” Richard demanded of everyone present.
No one had an explanation. The footman ran for Mrs. Harding and her master set of keys. Duke scratched at the door as they waited.
Mrs. Harding came from a servants’ staircase. She pulled out her keys and searched through them. She held up the key ring. “Your Grace, I do not know how, but the key to the King’s chambers is missing.”
Botheration.
Richard stepped back to ram the door.
The footman stepped beside him. “Allow me.”
After two unsuccessful tries, Marsh joined the footman, and together they broke open the door.
Duke ran through the sitting room, past a single chair, and to the wall where he barked and scratched again.
“That dog is going to ruin the wall.” Mrs. Harding’s comment was not helpful.
Birch examined the wall panel, knocking and tapping on the wood. Then, feeling around the edge, repeating the action on the next panel.
Duke continued to bark and scratch.
“Will you please quiet that dog? I cannot hear.” Birch turned back to his knocking, apparently unaware he had just ordered a duke to action.
Richard scooped up Duke, careful to avoid the dog’s ribs. A moment later something in the wall popped, and the panel Duke had been scratching at opened to reveal a set of stairs.
Mrs. Hannover gasped. “Why, I never. I was told there was not a servants’ entrance to this apartment. We never used it.”
Richard handed the dog to the master of the hounds, intent on entering the tunnel.
Birch blocked the way. “Not until we have the proper equipment, Your Grace. A lantern. More men and at least one pistol. If the housekeeper didn’t know of this passage, it may not lead where we think.”
Marsh attempted to follow the footman sent on the errand to fetch more men and equipment out of the room, but Duke snapped at him.
Richard reached for the determined spaniel. “Perhaps we should take the dog with us. If he came from the woods, he must have more to show us.”
The snow-blanketed forest in Jane’s dream continued on forever. Through the cold, Jane knew she dreamed yet was unable to end her vision by willpower. From the bushes in front of her, Sir Galahad barked. She hurried toward him only to have the dream fade into the darkness of the windowless room.
Jane felt around the bed and the cold stone wall to get her bearings. She heard another bark. Jane sat up, instinctively cradling her arm. Had she imagined the sound? She looked in the direction of the door. The palest gray line of light seeped in where she thought the bottom might be.
The bark came again. Not from the door. Below her.
Duke had found her.
No. If Duncan heard the bark… Jane crawled across the floor searching for the wooden trapdoor. The smallest pinhole of light filtered through what must be the keyhole. Cautiously, Jane pressed her eye to the spot. One of the large footmen stood on the ladder, reaching for the door.
Worse and worse.
“Stop,” She hissed through the keyhole. “It is locked. Be silent.”
The footman retreated, and Richard came to the bottom of the ladder holding Duke, who wagged his tail. “Jane?”
“Shh. He will hear me. It is locked. You must come around.”
“Who is he?”
Jane looked at the door behind her, sure she heard movement. “Go.”
A key turned in the door’s lock. Jane stood quickly and jumped on the floor to make a noise to cover any from below. “Ouch!”
The door opened a crack.
Jane moved her foot to cover the ray of light from below.
“Not trying to escape, are you?” Duncan asked. Thankfully, his voice was steady and not tinged with alcohol.
“I tripped trying to find the bed.”
“Why were you off of it?”
“I was looking for a bucket to relieve myself.”
He muttered an oath before slamming the door shut again.
Jane slid her foot from the keyhole.
The light was gone.
Richard knew where she was.
He would be back.