“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh!”
“What is it?”
“There’s a little lever or something here. Hold on. I can’t…”
“Let me see.”
“Don’t push. It’s right there.”
Charles followed Emma’s fingers. The picture was too heavy to lift off the wall entirely, but they could move it far enough away to get their hands in. Yes, he felt it. Not very far in from the frame—he couldn’t have gotten his hand much beyond this point.
“I can’t budge it. Does it swing down?” Emma was trying to peer into the dark space behind the painting where his hand was.
“I think so. Yes.” He pulled down hard. There was a creaking and…
“Look!” Emma spun around, bumping into him.
Part of the wall had swung open.
“Stick something in there, will you, in case it closes up when I let go of the lever.”
“All right.” Emma looked around and grabbed her hairbrush. “Ready.”
He let go. The door stayed open. Emma was already partly inside.
“What are you doing?” He grabbed her arm. “Get out of there. You’re as bad as Prinny with a badger hole.”
“It’s very dusty and dark in here. Go get a candle, Charles.”
Charles was rather certain he did not care to be ordered about in such a manner. “I can see why Meg finds you a trial.”
Emma backed out of the passage far enough to glare at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I will not get a candle until you have removed yourself from your present location.”
Emma frowned and jutted out her chin. “Oh, you won’t, will you?”
He waited, his face impassive. He had learned that trick when he was dealing with young privates whose youthful exuberance sometimes led them to inappropriate behavior. Silence was often the most effective rejoinder in such cases.
“Oh, very well, if you are going to be stubborn about it.”
“I am.”
Emma stepped back. “Don’t think you are going to keep me out entirely. You must at least let me look around inside.”
“Must I?” Charles lit a candle.
“Yes. Remember, if it were not for me, you would never have figured out how to open the door.”
“Oh, I think I would have puzzled it out eventually.” He stepped through the opening.
“Charles! I am not going to go scampering off into the bowels of Knightsdale, for goodness’ sake. I just want to come in there with you.”
“There isn’t much room.” The passage was very narrow—barely a foot and a half across at a guess. He had to turn sideways to move in either direction. “And it is very dirty.”
“I don’t mind a little dirt.”
Charles looked at the sleeve of his formerly white shirt. “It’s significantly more than a little dirt, sweetheart. The maids don’t dust in here, you know.”
“Of course I know. You are not going to dissuade me, so you may as well stop trying and step aside.”
“All right. At least put your hair up and find a cap. You don’t want the spiders setting up housekeeping in your curls.”
Emma froze. “There are spiders in there?”
“Yes. Lots. Fat black ones and skinny brown ones with long legs…”
“You are certain there are spiders?”
Charles shrugged. He should have remembered Emma’s spider fears earlier. “And cobwebs. You know how they stick to your hands and face and you can’t quite get them off.”
“Perhaps I will not…Perhaps it would be better if I stayed out here. In case you get stuck in there. I could go for help.”
Charles grinned. “Excellent idea.”
Emma tucked her hair behind her ear. A futile effort. Her hair was much too thick and curly to stay politely in place without resorting to sturdy hairpins. “How do you plan to proceed, Charles? You can’t just hare off into those passages.”
“Those spider-filled passages.”
Emma shuddered. “Exactly. You need a plan.” She bit her lip. “It would be easy to get disoriented.”
“True.” Emma was right. He would need a plan. He stepped back into her room.
“I hope that isn’t your best shirt.”
He laughed. “It certainly isn’t now.”
“Perhaps you should quietly dispose of it when your explorations are completed. You would not want to give Mr. Henderson an apoplexy.”
“Perhaps.” Charles made an attempt to brush the worst of the dust off his clothes. “Oh, look, here’s one of those spiders now.”
Emma squeaked and stepped back. “Kill it.”
“So bloodthirsty. Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
He laughed and brushed the poor spider onto the ground, dispatching it with the sole of his shoe. “And here I thought you were a softhearted, gentle soul.”
“I am. It’s just spiders I can’t abide.” Emma examined the splotch on the floor.
“It’s quite dead, sweetheart.” He grinned. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m happy to protect you from the evil spiders of the world.”
Emma frowned at him. “I’m sure. Now, where do you think this passage goes? Do you suppose it’s possible to get into every room in the house through a secret door?”
“Doubtful. I imagine it goes from the lord and lady’s rooms to a hidden exterior exit.”
“What about the ghost Nanny saw in the nursery?”
“Yes, there is that. I have also wondered how the fire occurred that necessitated your move here.”
Emma blushed. “I didn’t have to move into this room. I could have moved in with Meg.”
“You could not have moved in with Meg. She has a very small room with one very small bed and, if I understand the maids’ whisperings correctly, an overabundance of vegetative matter.”
“Well…”
“And if you were billeted with your sister, my love, I would not have found it nearly so convenient.”
“Which would have been a very good thing!” Emma turned an even brighter shade of red.
“Which would definitely not have been a very good thing.” To have missed last night’s—and this morning’s—activities would have been a tragedy he didn’t care to contemplate.
“Yes. Well. Hmm. Getting back to the question at hand…what was the question at hand?”
“Passages, sweetheart.” Charles grinned, thinking of Emma’s lovely tight passage. “Passages of the architectural variety, unfortunately.”
Emma flushed and frowned at him. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Obviously she had thought better of her question.
“It does look as if there must be more entrances,” Charles said. “I think the only way to discover the answer is for me to do some exploring.”
“Are you certain you can get out again?”
“I’ll examine the fastening here to see how it operates.”
Emma opened the door wide, casting a nervous glance at the spider-laden darkness. “I don’t see anything here.”
“It’s probably on the wall inside. I doubt if the latch is hidden—what would be the point? I imagine you want the person in the passage to be able to find the release.”
“Unless you’re afraid someone will sneak in that way.”
“True.” Charles raised the candle to shine more light on the problem. Whoever was opening the door probably would not be taller than he, so he did not think the door release would be very high on the wall. It also should not be too far from the door itself—the passage was too narrow to allow much maneuvering. That left a limited area—but he still could not find the release.
“Close the door, and let’s see if I can open it.”
“Definitely not.”
“How else am I to figure out the mechanism?”
“I don’t know—I just know this door is staying open. If I close it and you cannot open it…no, that does not bear thinking of.”
“But, Emma—”
“No. Save your breath, my lord. I’m not risking entombing you in the walls of Knightsdale.”
“You are a very stubborn woman.”
“I have been called that, yes.”
Charles glared at Emma. Emma glared back. It was clear she was not going to compromise on this issue.
“So what do you propose?” Charles almost snarled the words.
“Why don’t you see if you can find your way up to the nursery? There must be a door there, because that’s where Nanny saw her ghost. I will go up and get Isabelle, Claire, and Prinny to make noise. That should help you locate the entrance, shouldn’t it?”
“I suppose so.”
“And this door will stay open. In fact, we’ll have Mr. Henderson guard it, so no one can come along behind us and lock you in.”
“I doubt that will happen.”
Emma grabbed his arms. “How can you say that? Something very odd is going on, and we don’t know who is behind it.”
“We don’t? My bet is definitely on Stockley. In fact, I believe I’ll put one of the footmen on duty watching him. I disliked the man from the moment I saw him.”
“But Mr. Stockley is new to the neighborhood. How could he know about these secret passages?”
“That is an interesting question, isn’t it? I suspect it has an interesting answer. Now if you’ll excuse me?”
Emma hung on to his arm. “Get Mr. Henderson first.”
“Emma.”
“Get Mr. Henderson first or I will scream and drum my heels against the floor.”
Charles grinned. He could not picture Emma having a tantrum, but she did look deadly serious.
“Get Mr. Henderson, Charles.”
“Oh, all right. If you insist.”
CHAPTER 15
Emma watched Charles disappear into the opening. “You’ll be certain no one touches this door, won’t you, Mr. Henderson?” she asked for the fifth time.
“Yes, Miss Peterson.”
She checked the area for spiders, then stuck her head inside the dark passage. Charles had not made much progress.
“Be careful.”
He glanced back and grinned. “I will. It’s too narrow to move very quickly.”
“You won’t get stuck?”
“No. Will you come rescue me if I do? Brave the spiders?”
“I will definitely send someone after you.” Emma did not like the thought of Charles stuck in the walls of Knightsdale. It brought up gothic images of skeletons and ghosts. “Try banging on the wall.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Very well. There’s not enough room in here to do much more than knock politely.” Charles tapped.
“That’s enough. We can hear you. If you get stuck or lost, knock and we’ll find you. I’ll have the men tear the wall down to get to you, if need be.”
“I don’t know, Emma. Knightsdale is hundreds of years old. I’m not certain we should be tearing out a wall.”
“Stop teasing, my lord. I am certain. Now hurry along as best you can. Mr. Henderson is here standing guard—I’m going off to await you in the nursery. Do not get lost.”
“Yes, ma’am. I shall do my best not to.”
Emma backed out of the opening and dusted herself gingerly for spiders.
“You will be certain no one closes this door, Mr. Henderson?”
“Yes, Miss Peterson. You do not need to worry. No one will close the door.”
“Odd things have been happening, Mr. Henderson. You cannot be too alert.”
“Miss Peterson, please. I will not let anything happen to his lordship.”
“No, no, of course you won’t.” Emma took a deep breath. She was letting her imagination run away with her. “I’m just a little nervous. It is not every day one discovers a secret passage in one’s room.”
Mr. Henderson smiled broadly. “You’re right there, miss. Now, if I may, I suggest you go on to the nursery to meet his lordship.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll be on my way.”
“And please encourage him to return to his room immediately,” Mr. Henderson called after her. “I am afraid his clothing will need some attention.”
Emma hurried down the hall. Where was Charles? How far had he progressed? He would not get stuck, would he? No, certainly not. She was silly to worry. Whoever had been using the passages had not gotten wedged in them, so there was no reason to think Charles would. It was not as if he were portly like Squire Begley.
Prinny greeted her at the nursery door with his usual frenetic barking.
“I’ve taken him for his walk this morning, Miss Peterson.”
“Thank you, Isabelle. I’m sorry Prinny’s care has fallen to you. It is most remiss of me.”
“That’s all right. I like walking him.”
Emma looked up from patting Prinny to see Isabelle and Claire staring at her with more than their usual interest.
“Did you sleep well last night, Mama Peterson?”
Isabelle elbowed Claire. Emma flushed. Certainly the girls could know nothing of her nighttime activities? Well, she could not answer that innocent question without looking exceedingly guilty, so she ignored it.
“Girls, do you remember the night Nanny thought she saw a ghost? Can you help me find the spot where she thought she saw it?”
“Over here, Mama Peterson, in the schoolroom. I’m sure it was here, by the shelf with my dolls.”
“I think you’re right, Claire.” Emma banged on the wall and then listened. Nothing.
“What are you doing, Miss Peterson?”
“Your uncle discovered some passages in the walls, Isabelle. He is exploring. We think there might be a door up here.”
“Secret passages!” Claire hopped up and down and clapped her hands.
“You are not to put one speck of one toenail inside one, Lady Claire,” Emma said. “They are dark and dirty and full of spiders.”
“I like spiders.”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “You do?”
Claire nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I—oh, look at Prinny.”
Prinny had been sniffing vigorously for several minutes at the base of the wall. Suddenly he started barking and scrabbling with his front paws as if he wanted to dig through the paneling.
“What is it, Prinny?” Claire bent down and tried to get an answer from the dog.
Emma tried to get an answer from the wall. “Charles!” She banged on the paneling so hard she feared she might break it. “Charles, are you there? Quiet, Prinny! I can’t hear a thing. Charles!”
“Miss Peterson,” Isabelle said, “if Uncle Charles wants to get out of the wall, I think we had better move to give him room.”
Emma took a deep breath. “Yes. You are probably right.” She stepped back. “Claire, can you move Prinny also?”
There was now plenty of room for the door to swing open. Emma waited. Nothing. Prinny barked and tried to lunge forward, but Claire kept him restrained.
“Don’t you think something should have happened by now?” Emma asked no one in particular.
“It hasn’t been that long, Mama Peterson.”
It has been forever, Emma wanted to say, but she held her tongue. It did no good to snap at the child.
“Well, be sure you have a tight hold on Prinny. If—when—the door opens, we don’t want him dashing through. We’d never get him out of the walls.”
“Very true,” a male voice said.
“Charles!” A portion of the wall had swung open and Charles was standing there grinning, smears of dirt on his face and cobwebs in his hair. He looked wonderful. Emma wanted to throw herself at him and hug him.
He must have seen the look in her eyes. His grin widened and he opened his arms. “What, Emma, no kiss? Are you going to let a little dirt and the fear of a spider or two deter you?”
“Charles! I mean, Lord Knightsdale…” Emma gestured at Isabelle and Claire, whose eyes had grown huge at his banter.
“Are you going to kiss
Miss Peterson, Uncle?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Definitely not!”
“But you want to kiss him, don’t you, Mama Peterson?”
Emma opened her mouth, but she could not lie. She felt a hot flush bloom over her face.
“It worked!” Claire jumped up, letting go of Prinny. “Isabelle, it worked!”
“Prinny!” Emma lunged for the dog, but Charles caught his hind leg before he disappeared into the walls.
“I guess I should have closed this earlier.” Charles pushed the door firmly shut. “What worked, Claire?”
“Claire,” Isabelle said, “perhaps it would be best if you didn’t—”
But Claire would not be stopped. She was dancing with excitement. “Isabelle is so smart. She said we had to get you alone together, so we hid Mama Peterson’s brush in your room, Papa Charles. But that didn’t work, so then we hid Mama Peterson’s nightgown. And that did work! You are getting married.”
“Claire, just because Uncle Charles wants to kiss Miss Peterson doesn’t mean they are getting married.”
“Well, Isabelle,” Charles said, “I hope you do not intend to kiss men you are not going to marry.”
“No, but…” Isabelle pushed her wispy white-blond hair behind her ear. “Are you going to marry Miss Peterson, Uncle?”
“Yes, I am. And you and Claire will live here with us and be the first of our children. Would you like that?”
Isabelle nodded. She bit her lip, blinked, then threw her arms around Charles’s neck. “Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, Papa, I would like that very much.”
Charles made the girls promise to keep the secret of his betrothal to Emma until the next day. He didn’t want the entire household to know before he told Aunt Bea and Emma’s father. They would make the formal announcement at tonight’s ball. First, though, he needed to get cleaned up. He was covered in dust and spiderwebs—and probably a few spiders.
“It took forever for you to come out of the wall,” Emma said. They were walking back to their rooms from the nursery. “You must have been there—Prinny scented you. He was barking.”
“Yes, I heard him. It took me a few minutes to figure out the release. It’s a lever, but it was lower on the wall than I expected, and you push it up, not down. It was also well oiled.”
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