The North Sea House: a gothic romance

by Camille Oster

  "Yes, hidden," Brynnell repeated. "I doubt he was murdered here, but it's the perfect place to hide a body, isn't it? No one would ever find it. Until you did. How did you know he was here?”

  "It wasn't my own thoughts that drove me down here."

  Brynnell didn't question her further. Perhaps he didn't believe her, or he didn't know how to take such a statement.

  "I think he's pleased we've found him," she continued. "Hopefully this will give him peace."

  "A chance for a burial if nothing else," Brynnell finally said, still examining the body of the found heir.

  Chapter 32

  A DISTANT RUMBLE SOUNDED through the wall. It had to be lightening, Vivienne told herself and she turned toward the entrance to see the sharp flash of lightning from the elevated sea landing. It stopped and then started again, quietly and rolling like thunder did. Then grew louder.

  "No!" Brynnell shouted and rushed to the entrance, taking the lantern with him. Not willing to be left alone with a corpse, Vivienne followed, making her feet navigate the uneven stairs as quickly as she could.

  The air was misty, but it tasted bad. Dusty. She didn't understand what was going on, but Brynnell was pressing her back. Where was this dust coming from? Another plume came out of the tunnel they had used to reach here and her mouth gaped.

  "Did that…?" she started.

  "The tunnel collapsed," Brynnell said, still holding her.

  The words were inconceivable and she stood with her hand pressed to her mouth. She didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," was all she could say.

  Brynnell didn't say anything for a moment. "It isn't your fault."

  "It's my fault we're here. Technically, I think it might be Jonathan Fitzgerald's. He got us here, but now we’re trapped," she yelled, but in her heart she knew he wasn't there anymore. The feeling of him being there was gone. He'd achieved what he wanted, and now he was gone. "Surely they will rescue us."

  "If they even know we're here. We cannot guarantee a crash like that was even heard, or that they understand what it was even if they did."

  In fact, as she'd been leaving her room, she remembered closing the door to the secret passage, so John was probably not going to find it. "They must understand that something happened to us." Another horrifying thought occurred to her. "Could it have undermined the house, do you think?"

  "It is possible, but it is only a tunnel, so not severely if so."

  "What are we going to do?" she asked. Below her, the black sea seemed to lunge for them. At times, she felt it wouldn't stop and would reach up and claim them. She stopped herself from taking a step back. The sea hadn't in fifty years washed Jonathan's remains away, so they had to be quite safe up there. It was hard to fully believe it as that blackness was rushing up.

  "There isn't much we can do. At least not in the dark."

  "I'm so sorry," she repeated. Panic was starting to trickle along her spine. The feeling of being trapped was so awful, but it would certainly be worse if they couldn't look up and see the stars. That was a small mercy that saved her sanity. If she was trapped in the darkness of stone, she'd be beside herself right now. Still, it was hard to fight back the tears. Not even Clive knew of this tunnel, or he would have found the body already.

  "Come here," he said and stepped closer to embrace her. "It will be fine," he said. Although she couldn't see how he could be so assured. Accepting the embrace, she placed her head on his warm shoulder. It comforted her being there with him—his presence always comforted her, even now in her most severe panic.

  "They might not discover the collapse," she said quietly, feeling as if she needed to get the thought out.

  "They might think we've run off together."

  Vivienne wanted to argue the statement for a moment, but had trouble doing so. They might actually think so. Normally she wasn't one for such rash behavior, but when it came to Brynnell she couldn't absolutely say she'd refuse. In the darkness, she smiled bitterly at the thought. Like Jonathan Fitzgerald, they would just disappear and everyone would wonder if they had run off together. Not that it would make sense that they had, because why would they? There was nothing they were running from—at least as far as she knew.

  "What are we going to do?" she asked quietly after a while.

  "I think we are better off considering our options in the morning. Perhaps they will hear us if we shout."

  The idea gave her hope. Not that anyone would be out searching for them now, but it the morning. The slip would suggest they hadn't left, but then it wasn't impossible to clamber over if one was desperate.

  "There seems to be a dry spot over here," Brynnell said, urging her over to the other side of the ledge. "I think we should wait until daylight before we assess our options."

  "We might be able to hear them searching for us in the morning," she said. "John will search—I am sure of it. Maybe they can lower some ropes down and we can climb up?"

  Brynnell didn't say anything, but sat down along the edge of the ledge and Vivienne joined him. The water sang below them. Sometimes it pounded and sometimes it seemed to sizzle. She'd never been this close to the sea before. It truly was terrifying in its power. But they would be safe where they were, she assured herself, stopping herself from voicing her worry in case he thought she was being silly.

  Again she accepted his embrace and the assurance he gave her.

  "I am sorry I forced you to come down here," she said yet again.

  "I claim responsibility for my own choices."

  She wished she could see his face, but it was too dark.

  For a moment, he didn't say anything and she shifted further down so she was more comfortable. It could be hours until dawn. She had no idea what time it was.

  "In fact, I tend to end up going where you go," he said. She didn't quite understand what he meant. Shifting her head up, she tried to see from his expression, but it was too dark. Even so, she liked looking at him.

  "And if I have to face peril, you are the person I like to do so with."

  "I'm not entirely sure how to take that." At least she could see that he was smiling. Then he stopped, but he was still looking at her. "I seem to like kissing you too," he said. "A great deal."

  "It is very pleasant," she said with a weary smile. Even thinking of those kisses made her smile.

  "I don't think I want to stop doing so."

  Vivienne sobered a little. "As wonderful as they are, I should not be running around kissing men."

  "Maybe I should be the one that you do kiss."

  Again she didn't know what he meant. It was certainly a statement she could interpret a suggestive, but she could be very wrong. She didn't know how to respond.

  He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, his arms tightening around her. "If we get out of this predicament, Miss Harcourt, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

  The question was so shocking, she had to sit up. Shocking, but very pleasant. "Really?" she asked. Was this a joke? Something to alleviate the seriousness of the situation?"

  "Yes, really," he said.

  Vivienne had to take a moment to absorb this. He had just proposed to her. Marry him? Was that something she could consider? Of course it was. It was simply too good to be true and that made her worry. Then again, they were trapped behind a wall of stone after a tunnel collapse, so it was hard to justify this was all too good to be true.

  "Well?" he asked.

  "Yes, of course. I would be delighted." Her words sounded silly even to her but they were true.

  "That's done then, provided your family won't object."

  Object to a wonderful man with both a title and an estate? The most eligible bachelor in the country? The world would literally have to turn upside down for that to occur. "I think my father would be in awe of such a son-in-law." Her father didn't brag, but with a match like this, she could see him enjoy informing people of it.

  But it was neither the title nor the estate that appealed to her. She'd marry him if he
was a simple farmer.

  "Then it is settled," he said, his fingers entwining with hers. “But it is something we shall discuss in the morning,” he said, drawing her into his embrace. “We rest now, then deal with this predicament.

  Chapter 33

  IT WAS A HAZE OF WELLNESS Vivienne woke up in, within Brynnell's lovely arms and the heartbeat of the sea. But all was not well and that fact slowly crept into her waking mind. There was worry and concern, and she couldn't push it away any longer.

  That comforting beat of the sea wasn't as comforting now. They weren't snuggled in blankets in a warm bed. In fact, it was cold if their bodies weren't so wrapped together. Her movement made Brynnell stir.

  Birds squawked above their heads somewhere and the sun was just chasing the darkness away, showing them their hidden ledge. The cool mist in the air had a distinct chill. The wind didn't reach in here the way it roared at the top of the cliffs.

  "How far down do you think we are?" she asked as Brynnell sat up and she felt the chill of the air as he moved away from her. The other developments of the night crashed into her, finding Jonathan, and then the even bigger development—Brynnell had proposed and she'd accepted. The idea of it was still too exciting to hold onto.

  Above her, Brynnell stretched and she marveled at how beautiful her husband-to-be was. In fact, part of her wanted to draw him back and kiss him, but it was not the time for such things now.

  Brynnell moved to the side and leaned out to try to see above them. It terrified her to see him leaning out like that. What if he fell? He looked worried. "Stay here," he said as he walked toward the tunnel entrance. Again, she wanted to tell him to have care. What if the tunnel was still unstable and would collapse further on top of his head?

  But he disappeared for a while and she didn’t like being alone, didn’t like thinking of the decomposed body hidden in the storage room not far away. Being on her own made her nervous, but after what seemed an absolute eternity, Brynnell came back. "There is no way through," he said. "But I don't know if it collapsed all the way to the top of the cliff. They may not see it."

  That was a worry. In that case they would never guess they were down here. It left screaming as the only option, but the sea was so very loud. What if they couldn't be heard?

  Brynnell came back to sit down next to her.

  A ghost had led her down here and now they were stuck. Hadn't someone said Jonathan Fitzgerald was a selfish young man? Because now they were stuck there, but then perhaps ghosts didn't know about eminent collapses any more than they did, so it could be unfair to blame him. If she was lost like he had been, she'd probably want to be found too. "Jonathan was murdered," she said and Brynnell looked at her. "When I wandered, so much of it was focused on Miss Trubright. There was such hate from her and I think it was returned. I was scared of her, and in the end, I was fighting her. I think she might have killed him."

  Brynnell was quiet as she talked. "I believe she was here at the time."

  "But why would she do that?"

  "Maybe she believed the house should have been hers even then," Brynnell suggested. "Maybe the scandal with that girl drove her to commit such a heinous act. She must have known these tunnels existed and placed him down here. Covered him with a burlap sack and simply left him. Perhaps she thought the sea would eventually carry him away, but it didn't. Of course there is no proof and she is obviously not alive to confess, so we will never know."

  Before coming here, Vivienne had never believed in ghosts and she wasn't sure she did now, but those dreams had included knowledge and worries that hadn't been her own. "I think it was I that left that journal in Mrs. Bollingworth's room, but I don't remember doing it. No one else knew where it was. Jonathan Fitzgerald must have hidden it somewhere and then presented it to her, but I don't understand why."

  "Perhaps he wanted to send a message to her?" Brynnell suggested. She knew he struggled with the idea of Jonathan being a ghost and influencing her, but he could neither explain nor argue some of the things that had happened. There was no logical explanation for her knowing the things she'd known, for leading them down here—and for putting Jonathan's journal in Mrs. Bollingworth's room. "She cannot have been part of the murder. Couldn't have been more than a babe if she'd been alive."

  That was true, but she'd appeared in her dreams, in the dining room where Miss Trubright always seemed to be. Maybe Mrs. Dartmoor was right in that Miss Trubright was tied to that portrait, which had to mean she was a ghost too.

  A shiver froze Vivienne's heart. She was better off not knowing things like this could be real. Now she would always be aware and she wished she wasn't. But it hadn't been her seeking Miss Trubright's ghost, it had been Jonathan. Perhaps she wouldn't have known any of this if Jonathan hadn't… used her to vanquish his enemy and uncover the deed that had him lying missing and forgotten in a hidden cave underneath the house.

  But why her? She'd not believed in these things, when Mrs. Dartmoor clearly did. Why hadn't he simply told Mrs. Dartmoor what he'd wanted? It made no sense to her.

  Brynnell turned to her. "There is another option," he said. "I think we have to consider it."

  "What option?" she said, not understanding what he was referring to.

  "To swim."

  Swim? The notion didn't make sense in her head. Down there in that churning water?

  "Unless I have miscalculated, there is a pebble beach just around that outcrop. It can be seen from the cliffs above and we would be discovered," he said. "Honestly, I don't think they are going to be able to hear us down here. The sea is too loud and our voices wouldn't carry that far."

  Biting her lips, Vivienne considered his words. Jumping in that water would be the last thing she wanted. It would be cold and it was… dangerous.

  "Can you swim?" he asked.

  "Yes, but I've never swum in anything like that," she said, looking at the water that rose the distance of a building in less than a second, and then retreated just as quickly.

  "I don't think we have a choice."

  Desperately she tried to think of a different option, but couldn't. Sheer panic washed through her, but she tried to hold it at bay as she nodded.

  "The longer we stay here, the colder and hungrier we will be--weaker."

  Now? He wanted to do it now? Shakily she drew in breath and nodded. This could be the last moments of her life, but he was right, their bodies could waste down here along with Jonathan Fitzgerald forever now that the tunnel had collapsed. Who would ever think there was a ledge down here?

  Brynnell was right—they had no choice. Jumping in the churning water was dangerous, with a high probability they would die, but it was more dangerous to stay.

  "I'll jump first," he said and rose. He took off his boots. "Jump as the water is rising, but before it has reached the top. Jump as far away from the rocks as you can. A mighty leap."

  Absently, she nodded, trying to get control of the riot of emotions and warning in her head. But before she had a chance to say anything he leaped and crashed into the water. For a second, he disappeared and true panic gripped her heart.

  His head reappeared and he roared with the shock of the cold. "Jump," he yelled and she shifted closer to the edge. Nothing in her but her desire to be with him wanted to let her jump, but she did before her fears got the better of her. If she let herself think, she wouldn't do it.

  Water bombarded around her. The sound first, then the sheer cold. Deep, instinctive fear clutched around her heart and she feared being lost. Fear of never finding the surface, fear of being pummeled into the rocks. Around her, she felt the violent movement of the water. Then she surfaced and drew breath. The cold was like a spear through her mind and a vice around her chest. She couldn't get air in and neither could she get control of her own limbs.

  And the water rose so sharply and her along with it. She almost feared being flung out of it. And then she felt Brynnell's hand around her arm, dragging her toward him. "Swim," he ordered and she tried. If felt as
if they weren’t getting anywhere. Maybe the current was too strong and this had been a serious miscalculation. Fear and panic made her keep swimming, worried she wasn't getting anywhere at all.

  It was hard to tell as the rocks around them moved so fiercely, but they seemed to get closer to the edge of the cliffs around their cove.

  "Keep going," Brynnell yelled, swimming slightly ahead of her.

  The further away they got, the less forcefully the water moved up and down and became more manageable undulations. The water was still mind-numbingly cold, but she kept her limbs moving, not entirely sure she could feel them.

  But with calmer water she grew less worried and even a little amazed she could manage to swim in water so cold. But they were doing it. There was a chance they would actually make it. Amazement and relief were replacing the fear and panic. This was actually working and now she could even see the pebble beach ahead. It seemed some way off, and she feared her body would seize with the cold, but it wasn’t an immediate and arresting fear as when she'd first jumped in.

  Slowly they got closer and soon waves washed over them as they got closer to the beach. The force of them scraped her knees along some rocks, but she was too desperate to reach the beach to care. Hard pebbles crunched under her feet and she stopped swimming and waded through the water, again being pummeled by the waves.

  She wasn't even that cold when she got out of the water, but Brynnell ripped his shirt off and embraced her. "We did it," she said, her voice unsteady and her jaw now hacking with the cold. "I have to admit, I thought your idea was mad, but we did it."

  "More mad than following a ghost down a tunnel?" Smiling, she lay her head against his chest. "We need to take your nightgown off. The water will seep warmth from you. Naked is better, unfortunately."

  "Imagine the scandal if we are both found naked."

  "Not ideal, I do admit, but at least we can say we are engaged.”

  It was something she hadn’t allowed herself to think about. They had been in such peril, it hadn’t seemed real. They weren’t in peril now—other than from the cold. With the nightgown now over her head, her naked body was flush to his and she needed his warmth.