Chapter 7 #2
The rest of the morning passed pleasantly. Jane’s driver, a lean, raven-haired young man named Crawford, didn’t say much as he wrapped each piece of china in newsprint and set them in cardboard boxes. Aside from the near-constant crinkle of paper, his presence didn’t bother her at all.
The breeze rolling in off the river and through the open window smelled faintly metallic, hinting at a coming rain.
Pine trees pointed to a polished pewter sky.
At some point, the piano music had ended, and Crawford drove the Spalding siblings to the village for lunch.
With a contented sigh, Elsa cleared a space at the table and ate the croissant and banana she’d brought with her.
The slices of cheese she’d packed, she’d eaten hours ago.
She hadn’t heard a peep out of the library lately, unless she’d been too absorbed to notice, or too distracted by Wesley’s haunting tunes—or Crawford’s newsprint rattling. She decided to check on Luke and Tom.
At the door to the library, her jaw went slack. “What on earth?”
Barney, who had been blissfully lounging in a patch of sun, greeted her with a friendly lick on her hand, but she was too fascinated by what she saw to do more than notice. A door-sized piece of the wall hung open on hinges, and the glow of a flashlight shone from within.
She moved into the library, stepping between panels of wainscoting that lay on the floor. “Luke? Tom?”
“In here,” Luke called.
She crossed to the door, noticing a small locking mechanism on each side so it could be secured from within or without, and entered the hidden room.
Grinning, Luke pointed the flashlight all around the room. “What do you think? Should we add a secret den when we reconstruct the Van Tessels’ library in our warehouse?”
Tom laughed. “What is this, some kind of Prohibition storeroom or hiding place in case of a raid? It’s in the right spot for smuggling by river.”
Elsa had a hard time picturing the Van Tessels getting caught up in that.
She turned to take in the space. With the moving beam of light, shadows shifted over a desk with one wooden chair that took up almost the entire width of the shortest wall.
The longer wall was lined with shelves that held books, folders, and papers.
Perhaps more notebooks and journals hid among them.
“I have the blueprints of the house,” Luke said, “and this room isn’t indicated. But look at this foundation.” Bending, he tapped the time-blackened bricks. “I’d date this to pre–Civil War.”
Elsa gasped. “The Underground Railroad. Do you think?” Ivy had mentioned that Tarrytown was on the Underground Railroad route.
Luke’s gaze caught hers. “It would make sense. The house was built in 1850, the year the Fugitive Slave Act passed. If the owners had been anti-slavery folks, this would have been a logical choice for hiding anyone on their way to freedom in Canada, especially with its remote location and proximity to the Hudson.”
A few moments of quiet passed, and Elsa tried to grasp the former life this room may have had. “Linus was born in 1843. I believe his father purchased this property during the last years of the Civil War. So it wasn’t his family that used the room for its original purpose.”
“He used it for something, though,” Tom pointed out. “Right up until he died, it looks like.”
Elsa had to agree. A cable-knit cardigan sweater draped the back of the chair.
The desk held a mug, blotter, date book, and even a telephone, all of which were covered in dust. She picked up the receiver, half expecting to hear an operator’s voice on the other end.
But the line was dead. Even if it had been a separate line from the main one for the house, the company would have discontinued service when the bills stopped being paid.
Barney ambled inside the room, his claws a quiet clicking on the floor. He sat next to Luke, pressing his entire body against his leg, looking up until Luke scratched between his ears.
“So did Linus repurpose this room as his study because it was already here, or did he intend to keep the activities and files within these walls secret?” Elsa wondered aloud.
She picked up a folder and opened it but couldn’t see well enough to make sense of it.
Maybe there were more loose pages of field notes inside.
She grabbed a few more folders to take with her out into the light.
She sucked in a breath. “Did you feel that?” She looked down, and Luke pointed the flashlight at her feet.
“What is it, a rat?” Tom cried, backing away. “I don’t do rats.”
Barney shifted his attention to Tom, nudging his nose into the man’s palm.
“No, no,” Elsa said. Thunder rolled outside, but she barely registered it. “Just air.” She felt the cool brush of it slipping around her ankles. “It’s coming from under the desk.”
“Do you mind?” Luke handed the flashlight to Elsa, then moved the chair away from the desk. “Tom, give me a hand.”
Together they moved the desk a few yards away from the wall. Elsa shone the light at what they uncovered: another door in the wall, this one no higher than the height of the desk. There was a space of an inch or so between it and the floor.
Taking a knee, Luke opened it, and a rush of dank, cool air swept into the room. Elsa moved to his side, and he accepted the flashlight again, illuminating the darkness within. “Stairs. And I’ll bet you anything they lead to a tunnel that goes to the river.”
“Does it look safe?” Elsa asked, bending to see inside for herself. The steps looked sturdy to her. “Shall we see where it goes for sure?”
“Would you like to?” Wonder laced Luke’s voice, but she didn’t detect disapproval.
Elsa grinned. She would like to, yes. But could she? Should she? Those were questions he had not asked, and so she would not answer them.
Instead, she said, “A little adventure never hurts.” So long as it was very little, in her case. She figured there couldn’t be more steps here than what she’d already climbed in the stair tower. And from what she could see, these were quite shallow.
“I need a smoke,” Tom muttered. To Elsa, he explained, “I don’t do tunnels, either. Not anymore.” He left, and Barney went with him.
Luke shut the small door. “I’ll explore that another time, Elsa. We have no idea how structurally sound it is after all these years, so please don’t go adventuring alone.”
Elsa agreed, a thrill racing through her at even the thought of walking that path. Setting the folders on the desk, she helped Luke move it back against the wall, then replaced the chair before scooping up the paperwork again.
“I’ll want to come back for more of this later.” She held up the folders. The stirred-up dust entered her throat and lungs, triggering a cough.
“Yes. Later. For now, it’s time to go.” Luke pointed the flashlight at the way out, so she couldn’t see his expression. But somehow she felt that the firmness in his voice had more to do with her well-being than with his schedule.
Back in the library, she asked, “Will Tom be all right?” She supposed he was smoking outside on the porch with Barney.
Luke rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “That is certainly my intention.” He left, perhaps to follow his friend.
A few drops spattered the pane. Elsa hastened to the dining hall, dropped the folders on the table, and moved from one window to another, closing the sashes.
As soon as the last one was secure, she turned around in time to see Barney snatch a bird specimen from the table and run off with it.
The flash of blue turned her stomach. He had the Spix’s macaw.
“Stop, thief!” she cried and gave chase.