Chapter Twenty-Four #3
Then she spun with military precision toward the unexplored part of the passage.
Her body was so stiff that she practically marched.
She could hear Eoin and her family following.
The tunnel veered to the right, and Hannah wondered if they were crossing under the alley above them.
After a short while, the passage turned right again.
They were definitely parallel to where they’d been previously.
Hannah’s heart kicked up in her chest, and nervous excitement pumped through her. They were headed in the direction of the suspected secret room. But before they reached where she assumed it would be, they discovered another set of stairs.
“Based on how far we’ve traveled, I believe we’re under the other brothel.” Eoin’s face was a bright red once again, and the tips of his ears had even begun to turn mauve.
“I shall check, then,” Sophia said as she boldly marched up the steps with her gun in hand. She carefully lifted the unlocked trapdoor a few inches and then let it silently fall back into place.
Without any other reaction, she climbed down and gave Eoin a curt nod of acknowledgment. “Your assumption is correct. Let’s proceed.”
Hannah once again led the way. Just as she thought they were nearing the potential hidden lair of the Purveyor, the passageway had a strange jog. Although the fieldstone walls appeared to be solid in the glow of their lanterns, Hannah wasn’t so certain.
“We should investigate here.” Hannah lifted her light high as she studied the mishmash of rocks.
“Any reason?” her father asked as he nudged at one of the larger pieces of sandstone with the toe of his boot.
“Eoin’s mother and sister have a hidden room in their amphitheater from whence they can view the bouts. I thought I noticed something similar in the main room under the Horse and Hen. If I am correct, the hidden solar should be located above us.”
“Perhaps the Purveyor was inspired by the priest hole to create a hidden chamber,” Sophia said. “Or rather a hidden staircase within an already secret tunnel.”
“Does that mean we should try the candle trick?” Hannah’s father asked.
Hannah’s mother shook her head. “We already know that it is behind that bulge.”
“But it is stone!” Papa protested.
“It’s likely just a facade of hewn rocks adhered to a base of wood.” Eoin headed over to the wall and studied it carefully. “Which would still make it dreadfully heavy to move. There must be a mechanism involving pulleys.”
“It would also be exceedingly expensive to create,” Hannah said as she looked for anything unusual on the already uneven walls. “Which demonstrates how much wealth the Purveyor must have accumulated.”
“And it shows an almost obsessive suspiciousness and fear,” Eoin said. “We are so deep within the bowels of this convoluted maze, yet the Purveyor still felt the need to obscure the entrance to their inner sanctuary?”
“Well, we are here poking at rocks.” Hannah’s father dragged his hands over the bumps and divots.
Hannah noticed one particularly large pebble that stuck out from the others and was smoother and more evenly shaped.
Experimentally, she traced her finger over it.
Sure enough, it didn’t feel like a rock but a paper-and-paste creation.
Curious, she fiddled with it and found it was hinged at one side.
Opening it carefully, she discovered an iron lever sticking out.
Curious, she pulled it. The scrape and clang of chains filled the air, and the fake wall slowly groaned open.
“Fascinating!” Hannah’s father kept his voice soft, but his excitement made his whisper sound like a shout.
“I should go first.” Eoin immediately started to wedge his body into the hidden space.
He paused, and for a moment, Hannah was afraid that he’d become stuck.
However, after a few moments, he managed to wriggle through.
Hannah followed suit, and she marveled at his ability to squeeze inside.
She, herself, had trouble fitting. Perhaps the Purveyor had a way of opening it farther.
She could not fathom either of Eoin’s uncles voluntarily squishing themselves on a daily basis just to enter their secret office.
The clandestine staircase was not a hodgepodge of boards and questionable timber.
This one was stone and circular. In fact, it reminded Hannah keenly of those at the ducal seat.
Had the Purveyor purposely re-created parts of the castle here—perhaps as a way of declaring his own power and dominion when he had little chance of becoming the heir as a second or third son?
Yet as Hannah climbed each step behind Eoin, she felt less and less certain that they had arrived at the proper conclusion. It was as if all the facts were lining up perfectly but were somehow still askew when it came to pointing out the culprit.
“Have your pistol ready,” Hannah whispered to Eoin’s broad back. She wished that she’d pushed ahead of him and had taken the more dangerous position.
“My weapon is already drawn,” Eoin promised her, and she thought she detected a bit of warmth to his voice. Perhaps her worry had touched him.
“I still feel that we’ve miscalculated,” she admitted as she held her own firearm tightly.
“Doubt is plaguing me too,” Eoin confessed, his voice so low that Hannah strained to hear it. “Well, perhaps not doubt, but I can’t help feeling as if we’re lacking a crucial deduction.”
“If you wish to turn around, my family and I can proceed instead. We began this fight. I promise we will not take action against any of your relatives without consulting you.” Hannah leaned as close to Eoin as possible as she kept her voice barely audible.
Fortunately, her father was still trying to navigate through the small opening and was blocking Sophia and Hannah’s mother.
Although both her parents and her cousin had agreed in the carriage that Eoin would ultimately decide his uncles’ fate, this was a private conversation.
Eoin’s steps faltered, but he didn’t stop his ascent. “This is my responsibility, too, especially if it involves Uncle Hugh or Francis. But do you mean…”
Eoin suddenly trailed off, and Hannah tried to peer around his broad shoulders for a glimpse of his face. That, however, proved impossible as his back occupied the entire passage.
“We’ve reached the trapdoor,” Eoin whispered. “There’s a lock on it, and I suspect it may be latched from the inside as well.”
Hannah pushed the keys into his hands. “Here. Try these. But don’t enter until my parents and Sophia join us.”
Fortunately, her father appeared just as Hannah heard the key turn in the lock. To Hannah’s relief, her father whispered to her that Matthew’s party had met up with theirs. When he tapped her shoulder twice, she knew everyone was assembled on the staircase or at least as many of them as would fit.
“We’re all accounted for and ready now,” Hannah told Eoin as her heart rammed against her chest.
Eoin nodded once and then gave a mighty push on the trapdoor. Metal screeched as the wood panel tore from the hinges. Eoin surged forward, and his shoulders cleared the hatch before Hannah even heard the oak covering thump against the floorboards.
She scrambled to follow, wishing that her palms weren’t so sweaty. She might be the daughter of a pirate, but she was accustomed to more clandestine activities. She’d never stormed anything before.
When she popped into the firelit room, she immediately leveled her pistol toward the group of figures clambering to their feet.
Their backs had been toward the exit, and they’d been seated in chairs in front of a latticework that had obscured them from the crowd below.
From their forms, it seemed as if there was one man surrounded by a bevy of smaller, slender women. All of them wore cloaks.
Yet there was something amiss about the tableau before Hannah—something that felt… off or at least unexpected. For a moment, Hannah couldn’t determine what. And then it struck her. The man had not been sitting in the central position.
“Turn around!” Eoin commanded.
The women shrieked and clutched the hoods around their necks as they spun. The man moved stiffly, his hands down at his sides. Hannah expected his features to be obscured, but his head covering wasn’t that deep.
But he wasn’t Hugh, and he wasn’t Francis either. But he certainly looked like them. Close enough to be a cousin or perhaps even a half brother.
“Who are you?” Eoin demanded, his voice as cool and distant as ever. His hand gripping the pistol was just as steady.
But Hannah’s focus was no longer on the gentleman. Instead, she swept her gaze over the women. They’d started to drift around, seemingly overwrought by the unexpected invasion. Hannah had witnessed similar behavior before, and suddenly the elusive fact slammed into place and all the rest aligned.
She watched the fluttering women. On the surface, their movements seemed driven by chaotic panic.
But their frantic darting was not random—at least not for one of the ladies.
Although she wrung her hands and her steps seemed erratic, she consistently moved toward the right wall.
Hannah studied it, wondering if it contained another secret passage or priest hole.
The small room was certainly richly appointed with oak panels akin to those in the ducal estate.
Yet it was decidedly an intimidating décor with a series of grotesques.
Hannah cocked her head as she realized the carvings created a ladder.
Glancing up, she noticed that the ceiling was comprised of recessed wooden squares—a perfect way to obscure another trapdoor.
Sure enough, the woman who’d been moving with intent reached the series of miniature monsters. The cloaked figure grabbed two of the lower creatures and placed her daintily slippered foot on the other. She began to scale the wall with surprising alacrity.
Hannah rushed over and grabbed her leg before she could ascend any farther. A familiar high-pitched scream filled the room as the fleeing figure tried to shake Hannah loose. However, Hannah had plenty of muscles from hefting heavy trays of coffee.
“Unhand me this instant!” the woman yelled. Although Hannah still couldn’t see the lady’s face, she was certain of her identity—all of her identities.
“I have no intention of doing so, Eliza Aucourte, or should I say, Lady Purveyor?”