“You wanted to know why the statue was so important to Mountbatten.”
“Yes, and all I’ve heard is—”
“The truth,” Hackworth said sharply, jerking his head up and interrupting her. “If the world is told that truth, what do you think would happen to the highly respected Lord Samuel Mountbatten, the Earl of Landenbury? And what about Roger Witherspoon? He’s the eldest son of the Duke of Hatley, in line to inherit the title and all that wealth. He has to produce heirs. What woman will marry a man like him?”
Connie didn’t respond.
She couldn’t.
It was too much to process.
“The scandal would crush them, that’s what would happen,” Hackworth grunted. “Not only would other men shun them for fear of being painted with the same brush, the duke would probably disinherit Roger, Mountbatten could face ruin, and that’s just for starters. Poole would lose his badge for sure, and there are all the men they’ve pranced about with. Men who lead double lives. They’d be terrified. There’s no telling what they’d do to avoid the same exposure.”
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with the statue,” Connie muttered bleakly, turning and looking up at Malcolm. “Do you?”
“Blackmail,” Malcolm replied gravely. “Alan, tell me if I have any of this wrong. Samuel Mountbatten’s marriage to his American wife is for appearances. The man who frequently visits her and stays for long periods of time is her lover, and I suspect, is an avid collector of rare items. He’s the one behind this entire debacle. He ordered Mountbatten to steal the statue or be exposed.”
“That’s it, Mr. Mead, and he has proof of—uh—him and Roger, and Poole with another toff as well.”
“How could he possibly have proof?” Connie asked. “Surely it would be only his word.”
“He has lurid photographs,” Hackworth said, dropping his eyes and lowering his voice. “I’ve seen them. They’re lurid,” he repeated. “When I told the earl the statue had disappeared, he went berserk. I knew then very bad things would happen. From that moment on it was like we were cursed. Everything started going horribly wrong. The American, his name is David Manning, kept writing letters. I didn’t see them, but whenever they’d arrive, the earl would be in a fury for days. When Mr. Manning was in London, I didn’t go near the house. The man is truly terrifying. He even carries a gun.”
A sudden silence descended.
Connie rose slowly to her feet.
“Thank you for telling me all this,” she said quietly. “I’ll leave now. I feel sick from it all. You needn’t worry about your family, Mr. Hackworth. I meant what I said. I’ll take care of them.”
But as she turned to leave, she had to grip the back of the chair.
“I’ll walk you out,” Malcolm said softly, hastily placing his arm around her waist.
“Yes, please. I need you to.”
“Alan, turn around and face the chaise lounge,” Malcolm said briskly, “and make it quick.”
Wordlessly Hackworth did as instructed, but Malcolm watched him closely as he approached the lever, gave it a tug, and walked Connie out into the hall.
“Are you all right?” he asked as the door closed behind them.
“I’ve waited so long to find out why my parents had to die, but I never expected to hear anything like that. It’s just so despicable.”
“Yes, it is,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, “but would it have been better not to know?”
“Definitely not. Now we can put the villains in prison where they belong, all of them.”
“Or they’ll be sent to the gallows.”
“Malcolm, I need to go to the chapel.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked as she slipped from his arms.
“No, but thank you. I need to sit in the quiet, and be in the place I was so happy this morning. And I have to pray.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes, and though he longed to go with her, to comfort her and be at her side, he had to respect her wishes.
“I’ll finish up with Hackworth and wait for you in my bedroom upstairs. Will you meet me there?”
“I will, Malcolm. Thank you. I won’t be long. Oh, make sure you get the name of his wife and child and find out where they live. I really do want to provide for them.”
“Of course, and you take all the time you want.”
Kissing her lightly, he watched her move slowly down the hall to the door that would take her out to the terrace. Letting out a heavy breath, he picked up the plate of sandwiches and cakes and walked back into the secret room.
“You can have these now,” Malcolm declared, placing it on the floor. “When you’re finished you’re going to write some letters.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Who will I be writing to?”
“Samuel Mountbatten and Detective Poole. Do you have an address for David Manning?”
“As far as I know, he and Lady Mountbatten are staying at the country estate,” Hackworth replied as he gobbled down a sandwich. “Bellford Hall in Buckinghamshire.”
“Good to know,” Malcolm muttered, withdrawing the small pad and yellow pencil from his pocket.
“Mr. Mead, can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything you want, but you may not get an answer.”
“Do you have the Statue of Kharute?”
Malcolm paused.
“Maybe I’ll tell you after you’ve written the letters and they’ve been sent... or maybe I won’t.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Stepping out of the chapel, Connie stared at the long shadows spilling across the expansive lawn, then lifted her eyes to the sky. Dollops of cotton clouds drifted across the endless blue. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, and briefly closing her eyes, she breathed in the fresh country air. Though she had walked into the chapel overcome with myriad conflicting emotions, the small, quiet church had soothed her soul. Reliving her joyous morning with Malcolm had lifted her spirits, and though her heart still ached from the loss of her family, she finally knew what was behind the events of that dreadful night.
Now it was time to bring the evildoers to justice.
As she followed the pebble path back to the house, she pondered Malcolm’s plan to lure Mountbatten and Roger into a trap. The earl might be desperate, but he was also cunning and careful. He might not take the bait, and even if he did, he could take steps to thoroughly check things out and discover the ruse. Then there was his wife, Josephine, and her lover David Manning. The force behind the entire plot. How could they be prevented from hightailing back to America?
Entering through the French doors, she made her way to the stairs, climbing them quickly and moving down the hall to Malcolm’s bedroom suite. Knocking lightly, she walked in and she found he’d changed into his fine clothes and was standing by the window.
“Malcolm?”
“There you are,” he said, turning to face her. “Are you better?”
“Much better,” she replied as she walked across the room to join him. “If you give me a hug that will make me better still.”
Sinking against his chest as he wrapped her up, she let out a contented breath, then pulled back and stared up at him.
“You seemed deep in thought when I came in.”
“Indeed. Can you guess what was on my mind?”
“Goodness. There are so many choices. Did you get everything you needed from Hackworth?”
“I did, and the first note will go out tomorrow morning.”
“What does it say?”
“What we discussed. Here, you can read it for yourself,” he said, taking her hand and walking to a chest of drawers.
Picking up an envelope addressed to Lord Mountbatten, Earl of Landenbury, Malcolm lifted the flap and passed the note to Connie.
Your Lordship,
I have found an excellent place to eavesdrop. I’m sure I’ll have important information to report soon.
Your faithful servant,
A. Hackworth
“That will whet his appetite,” Malcolm murmured. “The second note following our secret return to London will bring him into my home. He’ll think that’s where the statue is, and assume we’re still out of town, but we’ll be waiting.”
“Yes, I know,” Connie said thoughtfully.
“You don’t seem terribly enthusiastic.”
“I’m not sure I am. I’ve been thinking about it. If I was Mountbatten, I’d want Hackworth with me, and if I was impatient and didn’t want to wait for him to come back, I’d be extremely cautious about entering your home. I’d see it as the lion’s den. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose I would.”
“The detective said this was a good plan because it was simple, but maybe it’s too simple.”
“Do you have another idea?”
“Not yet, but regardless, I’d definitely send this first note,” she said, handing it back to him. “It will give Mountbatten hope, and if he’s growing restless it will settle him down, but what will you do about Hackworth? You can’t leave him in that secret room much longer. He could figure out how to open the panel.”
“I quite agree and there are too many ears and eyes in London for Frank to take him back. I do have the dungeon.”
“A dungeon?” she asked, a ripple of excitement moving through her. “What dungeon is this, pray tell?”
“There’s an honest to goodness dungeon beneath the house. I haven’t been down there in ages, but my father and I cleaned it up when we were working on a rodent problem. Edith and I would often go down there and tell each other ghost stories. It was great fun. That might be the perfect place to put Hackworth. I could leave Mr. Henderson in charge. It would only be for a few days.” Then pausing, he added, “Are you sure you’re feeling better? Have you come to terms with everything you found out?”
“I admit it was unnerving hearing all those disturbing details,” Connie replied, her brow crinkling, “but it was also liberating. Sitting in that lovely little church was just what I needed. I thanked the good Lord for bringing Frank Colby here with the amazing news that I’m finally free, and I relived our joyous wedding, so, yes, I’m absolutely fine. In fact I’m better than fine. I’m very happy, and I’m looking forward to sharing our celebratory dinner with everyone. Is that what you were thinking about when I came in?”
“Not exactly,” he said, lowering his voice. “You and I must have a serious talk, and it will begin with my hand landing on your bare backside.”
* * *
As Connie gaped up at him, Malcolm kept his face expressionless. He wouldn’t have brought up the spanking if she’d been upset, but her mood was buoyant.
“Is this because I went into the secret room?”
“You mean ducked into the secret room. Did you really think you could defy me so blatantly and not face any consequences? Don’t answer that yet. We’ll have that conversation when you’re over my knee, but I think I’ll take care of your punishment in the dungeon.”
“But, uh, won’t it be full of frightful cobwebs and dirt and dust?”
He paused. He hadn’t been down there for years. She was probably right.
“That’s a possibility,” he said thoughtfully. “We have plenty of time before dinner. Stay here and think about what you did while I run down to see if it’s habitable for Hackworth.”
“Can I please come with you? I’ve never been in a dungeon. If it’s awful I’ll just wait outside.”
“Hmm. Yes, you can. If it’s not too terrible I’ll punish you there.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that,” she muttered, dropping her eyes.
“You’re welcome to remain here and wait for me. Either way you’ll be sitting on a hot bottom at the dinner table. Excuse me. I just had a thought.”
Stepping quickly into his dressing room, he found his small wooden clothes brush and dropped it into his pocket.
“Ready?” he asked, quickly returning to find her red-faced and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“What was that about?” she asked, staring up at him.
“I just remembered something I might need,” he replied, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.
“Malcolm, you’re right. About me going into the secret room, I mean. I should have talked to you first. Sorry.”
“I accept your apology, but I still need to punish you.”
“I know,” she muttered.
Leading her from the room, he turned in the opposite direction to the staircase, walked a short distance, then stopped at a narrow door. Lifting a key on a chain hanging from the wall, he unlocked it, then continued on to a narrow flight of stairs.
“We’re now in the main house,” he declared as they followed it down. “This used to be the servants’ staircase to my wing. If you walked down that passage it would take you to their quarters,” he said, pointing to the left as they reached the bottom, “and this is the entrance to the dungeon.”
They were standing next to a wide, dark wooden door, complete with large metal hinges. Finding little resistance, he pushed it open and stepped onto a small landing above a winding concrete staircase. Tiny windows provided the only light, and medieval torch holders lined the walls.
“My goodness,” Connie gasped. “It’s like something from the dark ages. How old is this house?”
“I’m not sure. It’s undergone many renovations, but this stairwell and the dungeon are original, so it has to date back centuries. Do you still want to come with me?”
“More than ever.”
“It’s a short staircase, but be sure to raise the hem of your dress.”
“I’m amazed the torches are still in their holders,” Connie commented, stopping for a moment to study one. “I can only imagine how creepy this would be at night.”
“Not for the faint of heart,” he replied, continuing slowly down, “and we’ve arrived. See, I told you it wasn’t far. There are no windows inside, but we used to leave lamps out here. Ah, yes!” he exclaimed, spying one sitting on the floor with matches conveniently beside it. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“It’s not dirty at all.”
Setting it to light, he pushed open a door that resembled the one at the top of the steps, and as light flooded the space, he heard Connie catch her breath.
“This is incredible,” she murmured, gazing at the cells on either side of the wide room. “It’s just like the sketches in the history books.”
“This is interesting,” he murmured, raising the lamp in the air. “It’s clean. There’s even a cloth on the table, and more lamps. Now I know why the handles and doors worked so well,” he exclaimed, lighting the extra lanterns. “I wonder if this is Edith’s handiwork.”
“But why would she keep a dungeon clean like this?”
“I don’t know and I intend to find out, but I’m very happy to find it like this.”
With Connie at his side, he began inspecting the cells. The floors were swept, one even had a small bed, and though none had a working lock, he could easily find a length of chain and padlock.
“This is absolutely unbelievable,” Connie said, running her fingertips over the rough brick walls. “Do you know if the bench seats on each side of the table have always been down here?”
“As far as I know,” he replied, then turning to face her, he crossed his arms and caught her eye. “Connie, kneel on one of those benches and place your elbows on the tablecloth.”
“Aren’t we going to talk about this?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself!”
“Sorry,” she said quickly, climbing on the long seat and placing her forearms on the cloth.
“Present your backside for punishment.”
“Uh, how do I do that, Sir?”
“Arch your back. If you were standing in front of me, you would turn around and raise your skirt and petticoat then bend over. Remember that for the future.”
“Yes, Sir.”
As she poked out her posterior, he moved behind her, lifted her dress and petticoat over her waist, then smoothed his hand over her thin silk drawers.
“You didn’t give me the courtesy of speaking with me before rushing into the secret room because you were afraid I would refuse you. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you think me so unreasonable?”
“Uh, no, Sir, but—”
“There is no but,” he said sternly, cutting her off and landing a hard smack. “Did you consider the risk? If he hadn’t been across the room and sitting on the floor, he could have grabbed you. He could have held you hostage. He could have used you as a shield to escape. Did any of those scenarios cross your mind?”
“No, Sir. I suppose I didn’t think it through.”
“No, you didn’t. If you’d waited and taken the time to talk to me, I would have allowed it, and made sure Hackworth presented no danger before you went in. You would have achieved the same result without the risk,” Malcolm said sternly, landing another stinging slap. “I understand you needed answers, and you wanted to hear them from him, but you should have trusted me, Connie.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. I should have.”
“I must applaud you though. Offering to help his wife and child in exchange for information was brilliant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now tell me why I’m going to punish you.”
“Because I put myself in danger by dashing in the room, and I should have talked to you first. I should have had more faith in you.”
“Correct. This was a very emotional day, and I understand why you were so desperate to interview the man, but none of that excuses your behavior. You must be punished, and if you ever do anything like that again, you’ll be very sorry indeed. Now ask me to administer the discipline you deserve.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Connie hesitated, but only because she was surprised Malcolm hadn’t lowered her drawers. Not that she supposed it mattered. The silk was thin and would offer no protection from the sting of his hard hand.
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