Kneeling over her, he whispered. “I won’t hurt you, Nellie.”
Tenderly, he trailed his fingers downward, to her collarbone, to the ruffled edge of her nightgown. She was trembling as he eased the fabric over her shoulder, so that her breast was bared to him.
No woman had ever been more beautiful.
Breathing in the sweet smell of her skin, he pressed his cheek to her softness, then his lips, the nipple growing taut under the pressure of his tongue.
“Ethan.” Her voice was soft but her hands upon his shoulders were insistent, holding him as he lathed her pinkness, suckling the peak then letting it free, gazing upon the bud before returning for a second feasting.
She whimpered and parted her thighs, letting him lie between.
She was hot there. Even through his trousers he could feel it, and her flaring desire swamped his senses.
Once more, she murmured his name. Her hand found the small of his back and she looked into his eyes again, bending her knee slightly.
From the far side of the room came an excited bark.
All the while, that madcap dog of hers had been lying by the hearth, cocking its ears at the noises her mistress made. Now, it was sniffing along the wall, stopping to scratch at the panelling to the far side of the hearth.
“Stop that, Minnie.” Cornelia called breathlessly but the sausage on legs continued to scuffle, balancing on its hind legs to reach higher, pitter-pattering its paws on the wood.
“Hey, cut it out little pudding.” Ethan threw a cushion at the wall, making the dog yelp and jump back. There was a click and a creak from the panelling.
“What was that?” Abruptly, Cornelia sat up, clutching her gown to her breasts. “Minnie?”
Ethan rubbed at his eyes. It couldn’t be. Picking up the lantern from the side table, he held it high.
Though the corner of the room was in shadow, there was no mistaking what he was seeing. A portion of the wall had hinged outward.
With a gleeful bark, the terrier bounded forward, its tail wagging furiously as it retreated from view.
“Minnie!” With pounding heart, Cornelia pushed herself from the chaise. “Quickly, Ethan! Where is she?”
Cursing, he stood up, dashing to where the terrier had disappeared.
Righting her clothing, she tied the belt of her robe and crossed the room to peer into the space where Minnie had made her escape, with Ethan in pursuit. She could see nothing of either of them, but for the diminishing glow of the lantern Ethan had taken with him.
Many old houses had similar within the walls, for servants to move unseen, but this was far too narrow for the purpose.
A distant bark drifted back and she heard muffled cursing.
She hadn’t been paying attention to Minnie. She hadn’t been paying attention to anything at all. As soon as Ethan entered, she’d lost all her senses.
Clutching the edge of the frame, she leaned forward.
“Ethan?” The void consumed her voice, deadening it.
A minute passed. She called his name again, and Minnie’s. The lantern’s glow had long since faded.
Where were they?
If his lantern went out, what would he do? He’d never find Minnie without the light. Even if he did, she mightn’t come to him.
Who knew where the terrier might scrabble to, getting lost within the fabric of the house until there was no hope of retrieving her. She’d be disoriented and alone, and then thirsty and hungry. If the flooring was rotten, she might hurt her leg, and there would be no one to help her.
Cornelia suppressed a sob. She couldn’t lose Minnie.
And Ethan—was he alright?
She called a third time, without reply.
There was a draught through the opening, carrying a musty smell, and faint scratching noises. No doubt, there were vermin—not to mention spiders and cobwebs. She didn’t like to think what else.
She hated close, dark spaces, but what choice did she have?
Ethan had taken the oil lamp but a candlestick remained. Dipping a taper in the fire, she lit the wick and, wrapping a shawl about her shoulders, entered the passageway.
Chapter 15
There was no sound as she stepped into the darkness.
Cupping the candle flame against the draught, she inched forward, doing her best not to brush against anything.
“Ethan, are you there?”
Something squeaked nearby and she gave a shriek as the scurrying thing ran over her foot.
I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t!
The darkness was pressing on her, thick and heavy. There was no air but she had to calm herself. One breath in and another out. No matter that it smelt of damp and rotting things.
She kept her focus on the flame. She just needed to keep moving along, making sure the candle didn’t blow out. One pace and then another, until she caught up with Ethan. When she found him, everything would be better—and they’d find Minnie together. She had to believe it.
She’d taken no more than ten steps, however, when she heard a long, heartfelt wail and a series of thumps. Cornelia stopped still.
What was it? Not Ethan. He would never make noises like that.
What then?
A ghost?
Cornelia looked forward then back, scanning the inky dark around her. Even if something were here, she wouldn’t be able to see it. The flame’s illumination barely lit her own hand before her.
Something might be standing two strides away and she’d never know—not until she turned her back and…
She clamped her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. She mustn’t think like that, or she’d be no use at all. There were no such things as ghosts—even in places as old as the Abbey.
It must be the pipes. The bath was situated not too far along the corridor. Perhaps they ran through here.
She made herself open her eyes but, as she did so, a muted moan emanated from beyond the wall in front of her.
Cornelia’s hand was shaking so hard she feared she’d drop the candle but, at least, whatever the thing was, it wasn’t here beside her, but on the other side.
For a moment, she was confused. Was she facing inwards or outwards? She could no longer remember. Her room had no corner window, despite being at the end of the corridor, and she hadn’t had the opportunity to survey the house properly from outside.
Was there another series of rooms she didn’t know about, or was she merely confused?
There was a creak and whispered voices, then a long sigh and more thumps.
Cornelia raised her candle, surveying the beams, then cupped her palm over the flame and lowered it, letting her sight adjust to the gloom.
The timber joists were close nailed, but there was a sliver of light between them.
Tentatively, she aligned her eye with the crack.
It took a moment for her to realize what she was seeing.
A woman, standing beside the bed, facing away. Not just standing but with her hands tied, high above her head, the sash looped over the upper canopy frame. The light was dim but Cornelia knew a pair of bare buttocks when she saw them. The woman was naked, and tied up—and someone was with her!
The man, with his back to her, was still wearing his dining suit and was brandishing something—a hairbrush perhaps. The next moment, he hit the woman full on the behind. She arched and shrieked, but rather than twisting away, moved her legs apart and bent forward a little.
Aghast, Cornelia saw the assailant deliver three more strokes, each harder than the last, then throw the brush upon the bed. Reaching forward, he grabbed the woman by the neck. He was squeezing her throat and pressing himself against her nakedness. The woman moaned again and let forth a low cry.
Dear God! Was a murder occurring?
Cornelia brought her eye closer still.
Who was the man? And who was his victim?
What should she do?
Might she shout through the wall? If she did, would he stop? He would surely hear
her, just as she’d heard them.
But she was horrified of doing so. What if the murderer recognized her voice? What if he looked through the crack on his side. Would he see her?
But I can’t do nothing!
Suddenly, there was pressure on her shoulder and she jumped back, dropping her candle. Its flame extinguished but whoever was beside her held their lantern low, illuminating legs and feet.
She made to scream but an arm came about her, pulling her into a broad chest, and she was enveloped in the familiar masculine scent.
“Ethan!” With a sob of relief, she buried her face in his shirt. “I thought…I was afraid…” Gasping, she looked up, searching his face. “You were gone so long, and I came to find you, and…”
She jerked away, pointing towards the wall. “There’s a man—a murderer—and he’s hurting her! You must see!”
“Easy there, Tiger.” Ethan rubbed her back, speaking softly. “I’m fine, but you should have stayed where you were, what with your ankle.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine!” Cornelia didn’t want to raise her voice but she needed him to listen.
As if on cue, from beyond the wall came a throaty, wicked laugh, muffled but unmistakable. There was only one creature in the house capable of producing such a sound.
Mrs. Bongorge!
But why was she laughing? Judging by what Cornelia had seen, she ought to be half-strangled by now.
“A murderer?” Ethan handed her the lantern and peered through the crack but, when he turned back, he looked more bemused than troubled.
“I don’t think that’s what’s going on, Nellie.”
“But I saw…” she gulped. “He was hurting her, I’m sure of it.” Despite the intimacy they’d shared, she couldn’t bring herself to describe what she’d witnessed.
“Well, that’s as may be, but she seems to be pretty satisfied with the way things are turning out.”
Crossly, she pressed to the wall again. Perhaps Ethan’s eyesight wasn’t all it should be. To her shock, she saw that the ‘murderer’ had now divested himself of his clothes and was undertaking an act with which she was more familiar, although she’d never imagined anyone might perform it in such a strange position.
She bit her lip.
“Who is it, do you suppose? Not Mr. Bongorge?” To her knowledge, the snow hadn’t permitted anyone else to arrive.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I doubt very much that’s her husband, Nellie.”
“Who then?”
“From the little I know of her, it could be anyone. The vicar even! The only way to know for sure would be to keep watching.” He gave a grin. “You’re welcome to do so but I was hoping you’d like to see something else instead. Something far more impressive.”
Cornelia gave his chest a swift punch. “You’re utterly dissolute! As if I could contemplate doing that here!”
He smothered his laughter. “My, you’re full of surprises. The thought would never have crossed my mind. Much as I’d like to attempt some variation of what’s going on beyond that wall, I’ll happily save that pleasure for somewhere a mite more comfortable. In the meantime, I think I’ve found Minnie.”
“You have?” Cornelia grasped his arm. “Then let’s go quickly.”
“Yes, ma’am—only, I found a lot more besides, and it’s pretty extraordinary. To be frank, I don’t know what to make of it—but perhaps you will. There’s only one way in that I can see, so it means a long walk through the dark, and a whole lot of stairs."
A long walk, enclosed in the dark, with just one lantern between them.
Cornelia set her chin. “If I lean on you, I’m sure I can.”
Burnell hadn’t been exaggerating.
Holding the crook of his arm, she followed close as he led them along the passageway to a spiral staircase.
“Take your time, Nellie. I counted fifty-seven steps, and they’re far from even. Much as I’d enjoy you landing on top of me, it probably won’t do your ankle much good.” Burnell went ahead, waiting patiently as she ventured downward.
“Fifty-seven? But, that’s impossible; it would take us beneath even the cellars!”
“Exactly.” Burnell held the lamp low, so that she might more easily see the edge of each stair. “And if you think it’s cold here, wait until you’re underground.”
Haltingly, they made progress. At last, she conquered the final step and the ground levelled off. Here, the air was danker and mustier than ever and, brushing against the stone wall, Cornelia found it damp. She pulled the shawl tighter about her shoulders.
“Subterranean, without doubt.” Taking her hand, Burnell directed her onward a short way, until the lantern brought a doorway into view. “There’s neither handle nor hinges.” He indicated where pieces of wood had been secured over the frame. “Someone didn’t want any trespassers, but they mustn’t have banked on rising moisture rotting the lower planks, nor the determination of the rats.”
Crouching, he rested the lamp on the stone flags and Cornelia saw just what he meant. Something had chewed through the softened wood, creating a jagged hole almost a foot wide and just as deep--a gap through which Minnie would have easily gained entry.
Dropping to her knees, Cornelia peered through. With the lantern on their side, she could see nothing on the other, but Minnie must be there.
Cupping her hands to her mouth, she called, “Minnie, it’s me. I’m not cross.”
Like hell she wasn’t.
“Come back. I’m here.” She paused to listen.
At first, she heard only the drip of water but then a feeble yap, and a faint whine.
“I already tried calling. Either she’s cowering somewhere, too scared to come out, or she’s gotten stuck, somehow.” Burnell crouched beside her. “I pushed the lamp through to get a better look and that’s when I saw—” He took a deep breath. “Easier for you to look yourself.”
Grasping the lantern, he extended his arm through the hole, then withdrew. The space around them plunged into shadow but Cornelia could just make out Burnell encouraging her to move closer.
She thought, at first, it was a storage room but the large boxes within weren’t the sort in which wine travelled, nor were they the right shape. There was no old furniture, nor trunks, as one might expect in a disused place of that kind.
The containers were sited at regular intervals between the curving pillars which supported the ceiling, and there were markings on the side. Without her spectacles it was hard to make out, but the closest seemed to bear a letter S.
“It took me a while to figure out.” Burnell rested his hand upon her back, his voice close to her ear. “Think back to that night in the museum, Nellie. You were admiring something similar.”
Cornelia frowned. She was tired and cold, and worried about how they’d retrieve Minnie, but Burnell was clearly feverish about what was on the other side. “I was looking at the sarcophagus—”
“Exactly.” Burnell reached through to pull back the lantern. “That’s what those are, Nellie. It’s a crypt, and my guess is that it dates back to the sixteenth century, when the abbey was founded.”
Cornelia sat back on her heels. “That’s all very interesting Ethan but, if you don’t mind, it’s the sort of thing I’d rather discuss some other time. Right now, all I want is to retrieve Minnie, then make my way back and climb under the covers and not think about anything at all until there’s a breakfast tray to deal with.”
“Sure thing, but if my hunch is right, you may change your mind. At the very least, I hope you’ll be inviting me to keep you warm under those covers. Now, up you get and stand well clear. I was on my way back to find something to help with this, but chances are, I can manage without.”
Before Cornelia had the chance to ask what he was talking about, Burnell raised one booted foot and struck the planks directly beside the rotten section. There was the sound of splintering. Six more kicks and he’d created a large enough space that they might crawl through.
Reall
y, thought Cornelia. Could we not have tried that in the first place!
“Minnie!” Taking the lantern, Cornelia moved between the stone tombs, pausing at each to listen for the source of the muffled yapping.
Burnell was searching on the other side, stopping periodically to run his hands over the engravings.
When Cornelia reached the end of the row, the barking became louder.
I know you’re here, Minnie. Hold on. I promise I’ll find you.
Turning the corner, she saw what she’d been looking for.
One of the tomb lids had been pushed aside and Minnie’s nose was visible through the gap.
Cornelia’s heart leapt with relief. “How on earth did you—oh, Minnie!”
Burnell hurried over and, together, they pushed the stone further over, allowing Cornelia to reach in and pull out the terrier.
Minnie licked Cornelia’s neck and cheek furiously and accepted the tightest of hugs in return.
Cornelia picked up the lantern, making ready to go, but Burnell was tracing his fingers over the coiled design around the edge of the lid.
“It’s the same on them all, have you noticed?” He blew off the dust, revealing more of the engraving.
She leaned closer and saw that the interconnecting S shapes were curving serpents.
“How strange. In Christian tradition, the serpent is an evil thing, associated with temptation, deceit and destruction. It hardly seems the most fitting motif for a crypt.”
Burnell’s eyebrows knitted. “These aren’t just ordinary snakes.” He moved his thumb over one of the designs. “See the head. I swear, it’s a likeness to the vision serpent carved on the temple at Palekmul.”
“But that’s impossible!” Cornelia shook her head.
“And, though the date on this one is more recent, I’d say these coffins date back to the first days of the abbey, which makes it stranger still. The sacred creature joining the realms of living and dead, serving as a gateway to the spirit realm." Burnell spoke softly, as if to himself, trying to fathom the significance of what they were seeing.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 47