by June Calvin
“‘There are more things on heaven and earth’ ... ?”
“Exactly.”
“Or St. Paul: ‘Now I see through a glass darkly’ ...”
Thorne nodded his head and waited for her to go ahead of him into the keep. Once inside, they found the light dim but sufficient to navigate around the furniture and machinery stored there. Almost enviously Allison watched the ghost pass through these obstacles.
The ground floor of the keep had been partitioned at some time in the past, and the ghost passed through one of these barriers.
“Did she just disappear?” Thorne turned his head this way and that.
“She went in there.” Allison pointed toward the wall ahead.
“I was afraid of that!”
“Why ? What is wrong?”
“You’ll see.” Thorne helped her over a rusting haymow and led her to a door in the partition. It was padlocked. He dropped the leather pouch on the floor and bent to fish around in it. He emerged with a ring of large keys, some of them obviously very old. “Here. This looks like the one.” The lock was not ancient; in fact, it looked as if it had been oiled recently. It opened easily.
“Enter the Sultan’s bath!” He swept a dramatic bow, ushering her within. There was no light inside except that provided by the Silver Lady, who hovered near a very large marble tub in the center of the room.
Allison looked around in amazement. From the outside, the rough oak enclosure had given no hint of luxury. Inside there was a tiled floor with elaborate inlays. Even the walls were tiled, and the ceiling was stucco. A quick glance at the figures in bas relief there sent a blush to her cheeks. As for the tub, it was sunken into the floor, a wonder work of marble and tile, with gold fixtures. Dust and cobwebs coated the whole.
As she stared about her, openmouthed, the Silver Lady floated through the wall of the tub and then sank into the floor on the opposite side.
This abruptly threw the room into darkness. Thorne took the lantern from Allison's hand and carried it to the door of the room, where he could see to light it. While she waited, Allison stood in the dark, letting her eyes adjust, and soon could make out enough to circle the tub and study the spot where the ghost had disappeared. She dropped onto her knees and found a break in the flooring.
“Yes, there is a door there.” Thorne lifted the lantern as he approached, illuminating the area.
“It is the way to the tunnels, I gather. Tell me about this room, Thorne. It is most unexpected.”
Thorne chuckled as he set the lantern down and began to feel his way along the edge of the door. “My grandfather had severe rheumatic complaints. His doctor advised him to seek the waters of Bath, but he built this instead, modeling it on a bath he saw in Italy when on the grand tour.”
“Modeled on a seraglio, no doubt!” Allison primmed her lips.
Thorne laughed outright. “Now how did you guess that? I confess, looking at the decor, I regret anew that the prolonged hostilities on the Continent kept me from taking the grand tour.”
“But a bath here? Why not at Thorne Hall?”
Finding what he was looking for, Thorne pressed on a piece of tile, which popped up with a click to reveal a small chamber. “The well is beneath here. Very convenient, actually.”
“But..
He sat back on his heels and smiled at her. “The artesian well over which Silverthorne Castle is built is a hot spring. I expect it is part of the same underground system that keeps the convalescents coming to Buxton. Now if you will just step aside, the door will be somewhat easier to lift without you standing on it.”
“Oh! Excuse me.” She stepped quickly away from the area. “I never knew any of this was here.”
“No, how should you? It wouldn’t have been discussed in front of children, partly to keep us out of the tunnels, and partly because the water is extremely hot. Children could well be injured in it just as it comes from the pipes. I did not leant of it until I was sixteen. Grandfather, and my father after him, always kept it under lock and key.”
“It is just as well,” Allison said repressively, casting a quick look at the carvings in the ceiling. “That is a disgusting way to portray cherubs.”
His eyes flashed with heat for a moment as he looked at her. “Why, I do believe you are blushing, Allie.”
“Are you going to open that door, or not?” She gave him her sternest look, then giggled, entirely ruining the effect.
“Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like to fill the tub and have a nice soak? Its tile portrays some interesting activities, too. Inventive women, those houris.”
“No, I thank you, sir! Not even on a cool day!” For the first time Allison noticed how very warm the room was.
Thorne grinned at her. “Too timid by half. Well, then, here goes.” Grasping the handle concealed beneath the tile, he strained to lift the door from the floor. This was why the Silver Lady said we would need his assistance, Allison realized.
As Allison peered into the dark space beneath the door, for the first time it dawned on her that her dreams had told the truth: She would be exploring dark tunnels deep within the earth. How narrow are those tunnels, I wonder? She shuddered.
After lowering the heavy door all the way back on its hinges until it rested on the floor, Thorne dusted his hands. “If I am not out within the hour, you should have Peter Mason ring the alarm bell. That will summon help.”
“I’m to stay here?” Allison straightened up.
“I don’t want you going down those stairs. Too treacherous. They are as old as this castle—perhaps older, for there are indications of Roman occupation around here, and they never could resist a hot bath.”
Hands on hips, Allison confronted him. “What has that to say to anything?”
“They are worn slick with age. and the railings my grandfather installed are wood, doubtless rotting in the humidity down there. As for the tunnels, they are dirty, dark, and dangerous. I want you to be a good girl and wait here for me, contemplating the lessons of the Sultan's tub.” Before she could draw breath to argue, he raised his hand. “In the darkness, I saw her. Dimly, it is true, more as a glowing mist than as a person, but enough to follow her, if she will but appear and lead me.”
“Very well. I'll stay if she will guide you to the treasure. Otherwise ..Her capitulation resulted less from obedience than from fear of the dark tunnels.
Surprised at her acquiescence, Thorne lifted the lantern to study her. “Good. Don't look so worried. With our ghost to help me, I will doubtless return shortly.” He pulled her into his arms for a brief, urgent kiss. Before she could protest—or respond—he put her away from him, then took up the lantern and the pouch of tools and stepped gingerly into the black opening. Slowly he disappeared from view. She moved to the edge and looked in. She could see Thorne, and beyond him in the light of the lantern a wide, spiraling staircase that led down so far that its termination was in darkness.
Thorne eschewed the railing, trailing his hands along the wall as he descended. As she watched him disappear into the darkness, with only the small pool of light to mark his place, she felt a shameful sense of relief that he had insisted she remain behind.
No sooner had this thought occurred to her than she heard a muffled curse. The lamp suddenly began to oscillate wildly, then just as suddenly disappeared, plunging the stairs into darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
“Thorne! Thorne! Are you hurt?” Allison crouched at the opening in the floor and shouted at the top of her voice. No answering shout rang out. Instead, all was silent—a terrible silence that pierced Allison to the bone. What am I to do?
She knew the answer, but her mind rebelled at the thought of descending those dark stairs. She looked around her for some source of illumination, but there was none. If there had ever been candles in those ornate wall sconces spaced evenly around the bath, mice had long since consumed them.
She thought of running to the gatehouse. Bean would surely have another lantern there. But she immediately discarde
d this notion. What if Thorne had fallen into water? If he was unconscious, even an inch or two would suffice to drown him. That thought forced her into action. She would have to make her way down those stairs in the dark, relying on her sense of touch alone.
Taking in a deep breath, she put her right foot out and began feeling for the top step. A soft glow of light suffused the stairwell as she did so. A few feet below her stood the Silver Lady, beckoning, her pale face more anxious-looking than ever.
Allison was very glad to have riding boots on. It would have been impossible to go down those worn, slick steps in slippers. As she descended, she noticed that there were handholds carved into the wall at intervals. She used these to steady herself as she followed the Lady down into the bowels of the castle.
It seemed as if she had been descending forever when at last the ghost bent over a recumbent form. Thorne! Her heart stopped at the sight of him sprawled on his back on the stone floor, head turned to one side and a tiny trickle of blood flowing from his nose. Allison hurried down the last few steps and knell at his side. To her intense relief, his chest rose and fell steadily.
He is alive! Allison allowed herself a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Thorne. Wake up, dearest! Thorne!” She gently shook him and was rewarded by a soft moan. He gradually emerged from unconsciousness as she cradled his head on her lap, rocking him and whispering words of love in his ear.
From a great depth Thorne heard his name being called. His eyelids seemed weighted, but at last he succeeded in opening them. He beheld Allison, her head bathed in an eerie radiance, bending over him. “I hope you are not the angel you appear to be; that would mean we are both dead.” He smiled up at her, lifting his hand to touch her face.
Allison blinked back tears of joy. “As warm as it is down here, I very much fear if we are dead, we have landed in a most undesirable location.” She dabbed at his bloody nose with the handkerchief she always carried tucked into the sleeve end of her habit-blouse.
“Ouch! That hurts too much for me to be dead!” Thorne sat up and looked around. “So she’s here. It would have been thoughtful of her to appear when I came down the steps; then I mightn’t have tripped over my own feet like a clunch.”
“She lighted me down. Oh, Thorne, I was so afraid for you!”
Thorne put his hand behind her head and pulled her forward for another kiss, this time a tender, gentle expression of his emotions. “It is a good thing I was unconscious when you came down those stairs, or I would have been the terrified one.” They looked into one another’s eyes and Allison thought her heart would break for love of him. He must surely feel the same, to look at her so.
Thorne was the first to turn away. “I’d best relight that lantern, in case she decides to do a flit again.” As he smuggled to his feet, Thorne marveled at the strength of his feelings for Allison. I truly do love her with all my heart.
As he fussed with the lantern, which was dented but otherwise undamaged, he pondered where those feelings should take him. How I wish she had allowed last night's announcement of our engagement to stand. Everything would he so much simpler—there would he no need for choices and decisions. But his problems were unresolved; indeed, the stronger his feelings for her, the more he distrusted them. This is not the time or place to work at something that complicated, he told himself.
As she watched Thorne fumble with the lantern, Allison struggled with a sense of hopelessness. What future is there for our love? Thorne D'Aumont is too responsible. He will place his duty above his own wishes and yours, my girl, so stop maundering about him.
Alarmed that the simple task of lighting the lantern was taking him so long, she decided to end their search. “I don’t think we should continue our quest now. A blow on the head sufficient to knock you out is not a trivial matter. We should call a physician, I think, and put this off for another day or two.”
“No,” Thorne shrugged off this idea. “I have a headache, but have taken no serious hurt, I am sure. I want to find this treasure while our family ghost is in a cooperative mood.”
This was the first moment Allison had thought of the Silver Lady since she caught sight of Thorne sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up and saw the spirit a few feet away. Would Thorne try to make her go back upstairs while he followed the ghost? “Can you still see her?”
“Only that luminous haze. What is she doing?”
“Just waiting for us.” At that moment the lantern flared into life. The ghost began to sink into the floor, leaving them alone in the subterranean chamber.
“Good job I got this lit. Not very dependable, is she? Well, perhaps she thinks I can find it now without her.” Thorne lifted the lantern up and shined it around the cavern. “Though if it is so obvious, why haven’t those who have searched for it over the years found it? Ah, well. I’ll know soon enough. I’ll go with you up the steps,” he said, taking her elbow.
“You do not mean to proceed without me?”
“If this incident hasn’t convinced you that this is a dangerous quest—”
“Which you would have made mice feet of already, without my help! I do not think she means to show it to you alone, or else she would have preceded you down the steps. Perhaps she can’t make herself clear enough to you.”
Thorne considered the justice of this suggestion. “If her role is anything more than to lead me to it, I must admit I would be unable to make it out, no more of her than I can see.”
“That's settled, then! Has the well dried up?” Allison didn’t wish to continue the discussion, having carried her point. She examined the round stone construction in the middle of the well room. The circular trough was empty and looked as if it had been so for a long time. In the center was a solid piece of stone with a giant boulder balanced on top if it.
“No, my grandfather had it capped and pipes introduced to carry the flow to the bath above.” He pointed with the lantern to an area on the other side of the trough.
“Yes, I see them now.” Allison moved around the trough to look at the lead pipes in the floor. She then turned her attention to the boulder. There was a chain bolted into the huge rock. The other end of the chain was attached to a long, stout oak handle that lay across a large beam. Both chain and oak were of recent manufacture. She touched it and looked inquiringly at Thorne.
“The stone could be lifted on and off the well, depending on whether water was needed or not.” Thorne moved to the handle and grasped its smooth curved surface with both hands. As Allison watched in fascination, he used the handle to lift the huge boulder and swing it over the floor.
How strong he is, she thought in wonderment.
As if hearing her thoughts, Thorne praised their ancestors’ knowledge of the power of the fulcrum. “No one man could lift such a stone directly. The construction of the entire castle is a testament to the considerable engineering skills of previous generations.”
“It is impressive, but why are the handle and the chain so new? They are not needed now that the water is diverted to the pipes.”
“Watch. In a moment you will understand.” Thorne lowered the stone to the floor on the very spot where they had last seen the Silver Lady.
When nothing happened, he grasped the handle again, raised the stone into the air a fool, and let it drop with a thunk that resounded loudly in the closed quarters of the well room. The sound had not died away before it was drowned out by a grating, rumbling sound. As Allison watched, a section of the floor began to move. Where the ball had landed the floor dropped away. The opposite end of the slab began to rise.
“They also understood the use of the pivot,” Thorne called to her over the racket.
When the noise ceased, Thorne led her to the opening in the floor, where another set of steps descended into darkness. Fascination mingled with dread as Allison approached them.
“This leads to the tunnel you told me about.”
“Yes.” He strode back to the place where his pouch of tools lay, sh
ouldered them, then returned, holding out his hand to her. “Shall we?”
Swallowing her qualms, Allison let herself be assisted down what turned out to be a short, straight flight of stone steps. At the bottom Thorne’s lantern illuminated the first few feet of a passageway that appeared to have been carved into the living rock of the cliff. Still holding her hand firmly in his, he led her into the tunnel. “So many have explored the tunnels so carefully, I still do not see how anything can have escaped discovery.”
Allison was looking past him, hardly heeding. “She’s here, motioning us to follow.”
“That sounds promising.” Thorne dropped back, letting Allison precede him. He partially closed the lantern’s opening, to make the Silver Lady easier for him to see.
The ghost moved through the tunnel faster than they could easily follow. Allison slipped several times on the damp rock, but Thorne’s arm always shot out to steady her. The tunnel was intersected by others, and at each crossing the Lady slowed to allow them to catch up.
“She's leading us toward that damned north wall,” he muttered after they had traveled for a while. “We may as well turn back.”
“She has stopped.” Allison let Thorne’s hand on her arm detain her, her eyes fixed just ahead. “I hadn’t noticed those wall sconces before.”
“They’re all through the tunnels. Once held rush lights.”
“She has disappeared!”
“I can jolly well see that. Why does she come and go so much?”
“I don’t know.” Allison looked anxiously at the lantern, now their only source of light.
“I have more candles, remember,” Thorne said, smiling tenderly at her. “Methinks you are just the wee bit uneasy in the dark.”
Allison lifted her chin. “I am not afraid,” she lied. Admitting her fear would make her more vulnerable to it. “The secret entrance must surely be nearby.” She began examining the wall above her minutely. “She pointed up here before she left. I just now realized this part of the tunnel isn’t carved from rock. There must be a hidden door here.”