by Monica Burns
“My lady, I was wondering if you’ve seen Lord Westbury. Nanny hasn’t seen him since tea time, and she’s been searching everywhere for him.”
Fear scraped its abrasive fingers down her back. “Oh God.”
“Now I’m sure he’s quite all right, my lady. He’s a good lad, just a bit high spirited at times. He’s probably hiding just to give us all a good scare so he can laugh himself silly.”
Constance shook her head. Jamie wouldn’t do that to her. Especially given how upset she’d been last night. He knew she’d worry. Despite his high spirits, he was sensitive enough not to do something so thoughtless or mean. She closed her eyes and reached out with her senses. Nothing. Why couldn’t she sense if he was in danger or not? She sagged slightly and rested her palm on the corridor’s cool gray stone. The chill of it permeated her hand as she caught the wisp of an image in her head. She pushed her emotions deep and forced herself to grow quiet.
It was then she saw him. The priest turned away from the altar and she saw his thin lips twist into a cruel smile. In that split second, she knew the man had her son. Dear God, that’s what Nigel meant by saying it was too late. The boy he’d referred to wasn’t Lucien, but Jamie. The knowledge dragged her fear back to the surface as the vision winked out.
Without hesitating, she whirled away from the housekeeper and raced back toward Lucien’s room. Her fists pounded on the door as her fear evolved into a state of panic. It was coming true. Her nightmare was going to come true. The door flew open and she pressed her hands into his solid chest. He might not love her, but he wouldn’t refuse to help her save her son.
“He’s taken Jamie.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” he asked with a sharp edge of concern.
“Jamie’s gone. No one can find him.” She shuddered as she suddenly realized she couldn’t feel whether her son was alive or dead. “Oh sweet Lord, Lucien, he’s going to…”
Nausea swept over her as the images she’d seen swept back into her head with a vicious abandon. There had to be a way for her to find him. A way for her to save him. Oh God, why did she possess this gift if she couldn’t use it to save her own son? Closing her eyes, she ignored the way Lucien was giving clipped orders to the housekeeper.
If she focused her energy and thoughts on Jamie, she might be able to see him. She might have a vision that would point her to where he was. Desperately, she tried to clear her head of everything but her son. She pictured his cheerful features in her head. Clinging to the image of his smile and jaunty manner, she silently called out his name. There was no answer, only a dead weight where her heart was supposed to be.
It wasn’t working. Panic sluiced through her veins. How was she going to find him? He’d be scared. And it would be her fault. Graham had warned her not to try and help people. He’d always told her nothing good would come of it. Her eyes flew open as Lucien’s strong hands gripped her shoulders. Concern darkened his blue eyes, and his mouth was a thin line of determination.
“Mrs. Clarke has gone to gather the servants. I’ll have a search party organized in a few minutes. We’ll find him sooner than you think.”
“The labyrinth,” she gasped. “You need to look for him there.”
“I’m going to do that with one of the men, while I have the others search the house and the grounds. It’s possible he simply lost track of time while playing outside.” The grim expression on his face made her stomach lurch with a sickening jolt.
“I want him back, Lucien.” A frenzied panic laced her voice as her fingers dug deep into his arms. “I want him back safe and sound.”
Warm hands cupped her face. “I’ll find him, Constance. Now I want you to go to Imogene. She’s certain to be frightened.”
The memory of her vision returned to haunt her. She never would have come to Lyndham Keep if she’d known something like this might happen. If Jamie were harmed, she’d never be able to live with herself.
Booted feet pounded the hallway carpet behind her, and she turned her head to see two footmen hurrying in their direction. As the men came to a halt, Lucien nodded toward the older of the two.
“Lazenby, walk with her ladyship to the nursery where Lady Imogene is, then meet me and the others in the main hall.” His fingers were gentle as he lifted her chin and looked down into her eyes. “I’ll find him, Constance. I swear to God I’ll find him for you.”
A moment later, Lazenby’s hand was on her arm as he walked with her to the nursery.
Chapter Sixteen
The moment Constance entered the nursery Imogene pulled away from Nanny and raced across the room to throw her small body into Constance’s arms.
“Oh, my lady. Have they found him?”
“No, Imogene. Your uncle and the staff are looking for him now.”
“He told me something bad was going to happen, but I thought he was just trying to get me to do what he wanted to do. I didn’t believe him.”
Over the top of Imogene’s head, her gaze met Nanny’s concerned look before returning her attention to the young girl. One hand cupping Imogene’s chin, she studied the child’s tear-stained face.
“Do you know where he went, Imogene?”
“No, my lady. He was very cross with me. He said he didn’t like me anymore, and that I’d never see him again.”
“Did he tell you what was going to happen, Imogene?”
“No, my lady.” Imogene reached up to wipe at her wet eyes. “We were playing in the garden. When he got angry with me, he ran back into the house. I followed him, but I couldn’t find him.”
Constance’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as she tried to absorb everything the child was telling her. Jamie had seen something. Something so terrible he couldn’t even bring himself to tell Imogene. She hugged the little girl close and gently stroked her dark hair. It had a calming effect on the child, but her own fear didn’t abate.
Swallowing hard, she struggled not to cry. The images she’d seen of Jamie filled her head, and fear wove an insidious path through her body. A warm hand patted her arm reassuringly, and she turned her head to see Nanny standing at her side.
“I think we could both use a cup of tea,” Nanny said quietly. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”
She nodded her thanks as the nurse hurried from the room. One arm wrapped around Imogene’s shoulders, Constance pulled her toward the sunny window seat. The sun was beginning to set, and she could see men searching the grounds. She knew they wouldn’t find anything. Jamie was in the labyrinth with him. She couldn’t see or feel anything, but she knew in her heart her son was in danger.
With Imogene nestled in her arms, Constance stared out at the sunset with a sense of hopelessness. How could she just sit here and do nothing to help find Jamie? She was useless. Her gift had abandoned her. Desolation crept through her to wrap a smothering hand around her heart. She was going to lose her son.
Eyes squeezed shut against the pain, a tear slid down her cheek. Imogene’s small hand touched her face in a comforting gesture. A moment later the girl stiffened against her.
“Oh, my lady, do you see her? Do you see the lovely lady?”
Startled, she opened her eyes to look down at Imogene. There was a look of excitement on the girl’s face as she sat upright with a sharp movement.
Turning her head, Constance saw the transparent figure of a woman shimmering in the ebbing sunlight. Tears stained the beautiful woman’s cheeks, and the sadness on her face was reflected in the soft sobs she made. Sobs that reminded her of the cries that woke her every morning. Was this Katherine?
The ghost floated forward to hover near Imogene, a sorrowful smile on her face as she stretched out her hand to the child. In response, the girl extended her own hand to the ghost. The tips of their fingers barely touched when a look of horror swept over the spirit’s features.
The frantic expression on
the woman’s face sent a chill through Constance. Their eyes met, and the ghost tried to speak. Her mouth moved rapidly, but there was no sound. Something about the woman’s agitated movements made Constance stand up.
“What is it, my lady?” Imogene grasped her hand. “What is she trying to tell us?”
“I don’t know.” As she stepped toward the ghost, the apparition darted toward one of the nursery’s stone walls. The woman’s body wavered and shimmered in the dim sunlight, her frenetic movements clearly pointing to the wall next to a tall bookcase.
Imogene gasped loudly. “It’s an entrance to the labyrinth. Jamie said it was here, we just couldn’t find it.”
“But why is she telling us where…” Constance sent the ghost a puzzled look for a brief moment. Then, sucking in a sharp breath, she hurried toward the wall. “…unless she knows where Jamie is.”
Relief crossed the ghost’s features and she nodded vigorously while pointing to the gray stone. Constance’s hands swept across the rough stone, her eyes searching for some mechanism to open up the hidden doorway. Beside her, Imogene searched the lower part of the wall. An instant later, the girl cried out her success.
“It’s here, my lady. Here.” Imogene looked up at the ghost who beamed at her for a brief second before urging them to open the door.
The girl pressed a small indentation in one of the square-cut stones, and the scraping sound of stone against stone echoed through the nursery. Constance leaped back, pulling Imogene with her as the stone wall turned in on itself to reveal a black hole. The ghost hovered in the open doorway, gesturing for them to follow her. Hesitating, Constance prevented Imogene from moving forward.
“No, Imogene.”
“But my lady, we have to find Jamie. The lady will help us.” The heartfelt protest warmed Constance’s heart as she bent over to hug the child.
“I know she’ll help me find Jamie, but you’re not going with me. I need you to be here when Nanny comes back from the kitchen. She needs to find your Uncle Lucien and bring him here.”
“But please, my lady, I want to help you find Jamie.”
Desperation clenched her muscles as she saw the ghost grow more frantic. Tilting Imogene’s face upward, she sent the child a stern look. “Imogene, listen to me. I don’t have time to explain, but Jamie is in grave danger. If you come with me, you’ll be in danger too, and I can’t let that happen.”
“But I—”
“No, Imogene. You’re the only one who can tell your uncle how to find me.”
Understanding dawned on the girl’s sweet features as she nodded her head. “All right, my lady. I’ll wait here.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as she kissed the child’s forehead. Straightening, she saw a saucer-cup candle holder on the table next to Nanny’s rocking chair. In seconds, she had the lit candle in her hand, and she entered the dank darkness.
Lucien slammed his hand into the wall of the labyrinth. Another dead end. Behind him, Smyth cleared his throat in unspoken empathy. The two of them had been walking the dark passages for almost an hour without any sign of Jamie or anyone else. Thank God he’d had the foresight to have someone bring him several squares of chalk to mark their way through the dark maze.
Returning to their starting point, he grimaced as he remembered losing Jamie’s map. It would have come in quite handy, as opposed to the crude line drawing he’d created a short time ago. Examining the paper he held, he sighed heavily. “All right, Smyth, let’s try the passage closest to us here.”
His finger pointed to a spot on the map as the man beside him nodded. “Would it be easier if we split up, my lord?”
“No.” He shook his head sharply. “It’s too dangerous. We stay together to cover each other’s backs.”
“Yes, my lord.” Smyth shivered. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was winter outside and not spring.”
Lucien nodded. The air had grown decidedly colder in the last few minutes, and his senses were attuned to every little dip in temperature. Was Nigel here—trying to help him? He frowned. Even if it was his brother, Constance was the one who could see Nigel, not him. A strong icy pressure pushed him toward the passage he and Smyth had just emerged from.
With a shake of his head, he turned toward the man accompanying him and pointed to the corridor. “This is the passage we just came out of, correct?”
“Yes, my lord. You thought it would open up into the North Tower, but it was a dead end, just like all the other passages.”
“Exactly,” Lucien muttered angrily. “So why do I get the feeling there’s something not right here?”
“I don’t understand, my lord.”
Holding his candle so it highlighted the makeshift map he’d been drawing, Lucien stared at the way all of the passages they’d explored pointed toward the North Tower. Inconceivably, not one of them opened up into any part of the tower itself.
Something was wrong. No builder in his right mind would have all of these passages leading nowhere. Unless— God almighty, there was another secret entrance at the end of one of the passageways. It was the only possible explanation.
Another icy weight pressed into his shoulders and tried to push him toward the passage he’d just explored. He’d felt a similar weight before, when Constance had told him Nigel was standing beside him. Was his brother with him now? Swallowing his trepidation, he deliberately took a step in the opposite direction. A cold weight hit him powerfully in the chest and he staggered backward.
“All right, all right, I’ll go back the way we came.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord?” Smyth eyed him warily.
“Smyth, follow this corridor back to the library and see if Major Fenwick has arrived.” Lucien pointed toward the passage that led down to the library. “As soon as you can, bring the Major back here and follow my markings down this corridor. Make sure you’re both armed.”
“But we’ve already been down that passageway, my lord,” the man protested with a frown.
“Don’t argue, man. I’ll use double X’s this time. Now hurry.”
With a nod, the servant disappeared down the dark tunnel, his candlelight vanishing as he turned a corner. Alone, Lucien turned back to the dead end passage. Again the cold pressure bit into his back, and he nodded.
“Nothing’s changed with you, has it?” he muttered. “You’re still as autocratic and dictatorial as ever. Being ten years older than me didn’t make you my father.”
This time the cold pressure became a sharp jab in the side of his arm. Grimacing, he moved back down the corridor. Now that he was alone again, he worked hard not to make a sound as he moved deeper into the heart of the labyrinth. And the North Tower was the heart of the keep’s extensive passageways. If he’d been thinking more clearly earlier, he would have realized that in the labyrinth the North Tower was like the hub of a wheel with all the corridors leading outward.
Marking the wall, he continued moving forward. He’d not gone far when a faint sound made him pause. It was coming from up ahead, and he strained to hear it. Cautiously, he moved forward, keeping his back against the wall of the passage to make it more difficult for anyone set on attacking him. He’d only gone a short distance, when he heard the sound again. This time it was louder, and he recognized it as the sound of heavy stone scraping across stone. There was another door.
Pulling his pistol from the waistband of his trousers, he remained where he was for a moment. He needed the advantage of surprise. Without thinking twice, he blew out the candle he held and set it on the floor of the dark corridor. It took only a moment or so for his eyes to adjust to the near darkness and the faint pinpoints of light that lined the passageway from above.
If he’d estimated correctly, the light filtering in from above was part of the open rampart of the North Tower. He’d only gone a few more feet when he saw it. Where the passage had earlier been a dead e
nd, it now revealed two new passageways. Hesitating, he debated which way to go. The firm cold pressure on his back pushed him straight ahead.
Grateful for the ghostly signal, he nodded a silent thank you and continued forward. How the hell had he and Duncan not found the labyrinth when they were children? For that matter, how had Nigel and Oliver not discovered these corridors? In the next brief second, every thought fled him as he heard Constance scream. Stunned, he barely had time to wonder how or why she was in the labyrinth before he charged forward.
Moments later, he tumbled into a heap as he tripped over a flight of stairs leading upward. The fall sent a numbing pain from his elbow up into his arm, while his ribs pressed viciously into his side. Grunting softly, he suppressed a groan of pain as his already-sore body loudly protested this current abuse. He winced as he realized how lucky he was his pistol hadn’t fired.
Not cocking the bloody thing had probably saved his life. If the damn thing had gone off, it would most likely have caused the bullet to ricochet off the walls of the narrow corridor. Worse, it would have announced his presence loud and clear.
As it was, he couldn’t be sure he’d not already lost his advantage with the noise he’d made already. Pressed against the damp, moldy stairs, he lay still. Better not to move for a moment than charge forward and lose any possibility of surprise. At the top of the stairs, he could see a faint glimmer of light, and he could hear voices floating downward.
The sweet sound of Constance’s voice made him briefly close his eyes in relief. She was alive. About to rise, he saw a shadow move in the light at the top of the stairs. Not daring to breathe, he froze. Was it possible for the person at the top of the stairwell to see him lying prone over the first few steps? The shadow stood still for several long moments before retreating back the way it had come.
In a silent whoosh of air, he released some of his tension. Christ Jesus, one more misstep like that and he’d be of no use to Constance at all. Patient, he needed to be patient. Damned difficult to do when the woman he loved was in danger. He closed his eyes at the revelation. Hell of a time to admit such a thing now, but he did. He loved her, and he was damned if he’d allow anyone to harm her if he could help it. He just hoped he would get the chance to tell her how much she meant to him.