He shook his head. “I am so sorry to have left you. I shouldn’t have. Just wanted to see what was down the other direction and was worried we might run into something that might hurt you and—”
She clawed at the floorboards. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Stop talking. Just help me out.”
“A million pardons.” He grabbed her beneath her armpits and tugged.
“It’s not working. I’m stuck. Walter, do something.”
He shoved the lantern farther away and stood. Wait, was he leaving? He wouldn’t—
Walter knelt down on one knee, his other leg bent but his knee not touching the floor. “I need more leverage. All right, let’s give this a go.”
She closed her eyes. I just want out of here. Please just help me. Free me…
Walter’s strong hands gripped her tightly as he tugged her. Hard.
She moved one inch but was otherwise wedged in tight. No! Tears stung her eyes. “Walter…”
“I’m going to get you out. Don’t worry.”
She nodded, fear wrapping its black tentacles around her chest. What if he can’t get me out? What if—
Another tug pulled her out up to her waist. She gave a silent prayer of thanks.
“Nearly there, Patience. How are you faring?”
“Please hurry.”
His face, damp with perspiration, formed into a grimace as he bent down once more. This time, he was able to wrap his arms beneath hers. “Grab me around the neck.”
Panicked, she moved so quickly that her hand caught him in the face. “I’m so sorry! I—”
With a grunt, Walter tugged, pulled and maneuvered, until finally her legs and feet were free.
He fell back against the dusty floor, taking her with him. She landed hard on his chest. Her gasps of relief mixed with his loud breaths from exertion.
He rubbed circles on her back. “Are you injured? Did you—”
She rose up enough to see him. “I’m not injured. Perhaps a bruise or two.” She looked over her shoulder at the hem of her dress. “And what appears to be a rather large tear in my skirt.”
He helped her to sit up. Pulling her against his chest, he murmured. “This is all my doing. I talked you into coming. I’d never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you.”
“It’s fine.” She hugged him briefly. “I wanted to come too, remember? Both of us wished to discover the identity of the person who wrote the notes.” Now all she wanted was to return home and crawl into her safe, warm bed.
Walter stood and assisted her up. “Under the circumstances, perhaps we should go back to our house.” He placed his finger beneath her chin, raising her face to his.
Was he going to kiss her? Her heart crashed around harder than when she’d been stuck in the floor. His gaze lowered to her lips, then slowly back up but nothing more happened. Don’t be silly. He’s not going to kiss you, just checking to make sure you’re unharmed. He watched her, waiting. Probably wanted an answer to his question, that’s all. She sighed. “I suppose it’s best. Before either of us is seriously injured.”
He sighed. “Come on, then. Let’s go.” He took her hand.
Patience and Walter had only walked a few feet when a door sprang open. A person stood in the doorway. Something flipped past Patience, ruffling on her hair. A large object struck her feet. She jumped. When she leaned down in the darkness to see what it was, it groaned. “Walter?”
He moaned again. He was hurt. “On no, I—”
“Run, Patience!”
“No. I don’t want to leave you.” She tried to reach for him but he batted away her hands.
“Go. Now. I’ll find you. I promise.”
Movement from the doorway jerked her attention away from Walter. The person held something high over his head. It was long and thin. He was going to strike her with it!
Wanting to prevent whoever it was from harming Walter any further, she leaned forward and gave the person a shove. Hard. Please let him not hurt Walter, please.
Turning, she ran blindly back down the way she’d come, running her hands along the wall until she felt a door. Locked. She tried the next one, relief washing over her when she turned the knob and the door opened.
Patience slipped inside the room, feeling her way along the wall as she’d done in the hallway. She bumped into what felt like a bed, then some sort of chest. Neither was tall enough to hide behind. When whoever it was had come upon them, he hadn’t had a lantern. Maybe that would be to her advantage? She couldn’t see, but then neither would he.
Another few steps and she crashed headfirst into something tall. Two doors, each with a small knob halfway up. Probably an armoire. She tugged on the door. It opened. After waving her hand around the interior and not finding anything in there, she stepped inside, closing the doors behind her, leaving it open only a couple of inches so she could breathe.
Please don’t let there be any bats in here. Or mice.
Chapter Seventeen
Patience crouched down inside the dusty armoire. Where had the person gone? Would he find her? Do her harm? She wiped perspiration from her brow, though the dark night was cool. Her leg muscles quivered as she tried not to move from her hiding spot. He’d find her soon. Had to. It was his house after all. Surely he knew all its secrets and places where someone might hide.
She tried her best to stay quiet, keep her breathing light and even. But the way her heart smacked against her ribs seemed loud enough that even he might hear it.
Please let him not find me.
Walter should have been here by now. Should have rescued her, gotten her to safety. Was he hurt very badly? Maybe she should go see.
Fear coiled around her chest. If she left her safe haven, the man would find her. If she didn’t, would he harm Walter instead? She needed to make sure Walter wasn’t badly injured.
A noise – footsteps? – came from her left. A pale beam of light reached across the floor, its yellow fingers nearly touching the edge of her skirt near the opening of the armoire door. Her breath caught, quick and loud. Too loud. He’d find her now. Had he already seen her?
Not wanting to, but unable to stop, Patience’s stare slowly followed the beam of light to its source. Black boots stood in the ring of yellow on the floor. Maybe it was Walter. Had he worn his black boots tonight? Why couldn’t she remember?
Trepidation nearly closed her throat completely as she forced herself to look up. Up. Up. Until she saw something clutched in his hand.
Patience screamed.
The man yelled back, his anguished cry, like a person in peril, echoed through the room. It sounded like fear, not aggression.
Her scream died in her throat. Was the man just as frightened as she was? Was that possible? Then why had he tried to hurt her and Walter?
She blinked, squinting her eyes to better see him in the near-dark. He was older, shabbily dressed and appeared to be very thin beneath his old clothes. The more she studied him, the sillier she felt for having been so scared. He looked like he barely weighed more than she did. Slowly, she stood from her crouched position, wincing when her nearly-numb toes prickled back t life. She hesitantly stepped out of the armoire.
The man leaned closer to her, studying her face for several seconds. “And who might you be?”
“I… I’m Miss Sullyard.”
“You nearly took a year from my life with all the screaming.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to—”
“To what? Sneak into my home? Cause me to almost have an apoplexy?”
Suddenly, Patience’s plan with Walter didn’t seem all that wise. “Perhaps I should be going. I—”
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, the quickness of his action belying his apparent age. “But you’ve only just arrived. Can’t you stay for a bit?”
Stay? She frowned. She’d been caught trespassing, had nearly scared a man to death, and he wanted her to remain? She tugged away. Maybe he wasn’t as harmless as she’d supposed. Perhaps
he was demented and intended to hurt her. “Well, you see—”
“Don’t be afraid. I’m terribly sorry that I yelled at you. It’s only… I’m quite used to being alone and—”
Rapid footsteps came from behind the man. He gasped and fell to the floor.
Patience widened her eyes as she crouched down to make sure he wasn’t injured.
“Patience?”
Walter stood to her left. Where had he been all that time? “Did you push him?”
He leaned over, holding out his hand to her. “Come with me. Quickly. I’m afraid I’ve put you in danger and—”
“No. Wait.” She tugged him down next to her. “It’s not what you think. He’s…”
The man moaned.
“Oh dear. Walter, help me to sit him up, won’t you?”
“What are you doing? I just saved you from him. I thought—”
“Never mind that. Just help me.”
They each took one of the man’s arms and lifted him to a sitting position. “Sir,” asked Patience, “are you injured?”
He shook his head slowly. “I think I’m unharmed.” He glared at Walter. “But why did you have to go and shove me down in the first place?”
“I thought you were going to hurt her.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because… You hit me with something. Knocked me down.” Walter ran his hand through his hair. “I…” He shrugged.
“It was my cane. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” The man then studied Patience. “All I wanted was to talk to you. That’s it. But when I first saw you outside my door, I was afraid. I’m not used to people roaming around up here. My first reaction was to protect myself.”
“Are you quite certain you’re not hurt?”
He moved his arms and legs, testing that they still worked. “I seem to be fine.”
Something fluttered just above Patience’s head. Wings? “Oh.”
With the aid of his cane, the man stood and then smiled. “There you are.” He held out his arm and the bird, a pigeon, landed there.
Patience smiled. “I think this is the bird we’ve wondered about.”
“You did?”
She nodded and ran her finger down the bird’s wing.
“I’ve seen you.” He studied Walter. “Both of you.”
Walter furrowed his brow. “You have?”
“Of course. From the window in my bedroom. In the darkness tonight, I hadn’t realized it was you at first. But I’ve watched you at the falconry. For several days now. Only… for the last two days, I didn’t see you. If saddened me, as if I’d lost some dear friends.”
Patience, worried that the man was talking gibberish perhaps from hitting his head on the floor, suggested, “Why don’t we all sit down and talk.”
The man nodded and led them back to the room where they’d first encountered him. Once there, he went to the window, where a small table and four chairs were pushed next to it. He kept his arm rigid and the pigeon neither flapped its wings nor squawked, obviously comfortable in the man’s care.
She waited until the man was settled in a chair, then sat down next to him. Walter took a seat across the table. The man nudged the pigeon and it hopped off of his hand but didn’t stray far. It pecked around the bare table, the soft tapping of its tiny beak barely disrupting the quiet of the room.
The man reached beneath his chair and produced an old sack. He removed a few bread crumbs from inside. “He was waiting for his nighttime snack, I’ll wager. Usually shows back up same time every evening.”
Patience tilted her head. “He’s your bird, then?”
He shrugged. “I suppose as much as a bird can really belong to anyone. They are free to fly away at their whim, of course.”
Walter put out his hand and the bird walked closer. It pecked lightly at Walter’s palm. “Guess he’s disappointed, since I don’t have the bread crumbs.”
“Here.” The man thrust the sack at Walter.
He got a handful and held the bread out to the bird. “There you go, Hervey.”
The man’s mouth dropped open. “Why did you call him that?”
“Oh…” From the faint glow of a lantern, the redness of Walter’s cheeks was visible. “Well—”
Patience leaned toward the man. “It’s what Mr. Wycliff called him.”
“I see. Leave it to him to give a bird such a trite name.”
“I’m sorry. It’s all we knew to call the bird.”
“Not your fault, my girl. The blame is Archibald’s. All his. The pigeon’s name is Phineas.”
Everything in Patience wanted to ask for more details. Inquire into the relationship between the two men. She opened her mouth to speak, but pressed her lips closed when she caught Walter give his head a single shake. His expression said, Wait.
She sighed and clasped her hands together on the table top. But it was so hard. She longed to know. They’d finally met the person who she assumed had been sending the messages. And just when they might find out more, Walter indicated she shouldn’t ask.
A couple of minutes went by as they all watched Phineas finish the bread crumbs. Questions sat right on the tip of Patience’s tongue, longing to escape, ask the how, the why, the who.
The man let out a long breath, petted the bird and then gave it a gentle nudge. “Time for bed, now.” The bird flew across the room and landed on a wooden perch that Patience hadn’t noticed before. “I suppose you both have questions.” He raised his eyebrows at Patience.
She bit her lip, wanting to speak but not wishing to embarrass either herself, Walter or the man in asking anything impertinent. Instead, she nodded.
Walter smiled at her, then gave his attention to the man.
He sat back in his chair, looking tired and frail. “First of all, my name is Mr. Wycliff. Henry Wycliff.”
Walter reached out his hand. “I am Mr. Walter Bexley and this is Miss Patience Sullyard.”
“Pleased to finally meet you. Where to begin… Well, first of all, I’m so very glad you’ve come tonight.”
Patience was stunned. “You are?”
“Indeed. It gets quite lonely up here, all alone.”
“Don’t you ever leave the house?” Patience could no longer contain her questions.
“Alas, I’m forbidden.”
Walter tilted his head. “Forbidden?”
“My brother, Archibald Wycliff, has made it quite clear that I’m not welcome in the main house. So I’ve been relegated to spend my remaining days here.”
Outraged, unable to imagine doing that to a family member, Patience bristled. “That’s terrible.”
He shrugged. “Be that as it may, it’s what’s happened. And I don’t have a say in the matter. You see, he and I are twins.” He held up his hand. “I know we don’t look it, but we are. As fortune would have it, or not have it, as the case may be, I was born three minutes after my brother.”
“Ah.” Walter nodded. “So he inherited everything and you—”
“That’s correct. I’m left with what you might say are the bread crumbs my brother chooses to give me.”
“Could you not go someplace else?” Patience placed her hand on his arm, wanting to give comfort.
“If I had good health, I might try. But, I’m afraid there’s something wrong with my heart. It’s always been thus. While Archibald enjoyed robust energy and could do anything he chose, I was always made to stay up in my room by our mother.” His mouth turned down at the corners. “Of course, in those days, at least I was welcome in the main house.”
Walter eyed the empty bread crumb sack. “You are fed, surely?”
He nodded. “If you can call it that. While my brother does see to it I’m given a portion of food daily, he does not deem me important enough to receive a man’s full rations.”
Patience ran her gaze over the man’s gaunt face, his thin, bony hands. “But your bird…”
“It’s not his fault I’m not given much to eat. I’ll not let him go without simply
because I must.”
“You give him some of yours then.”
He nodded.
Patience patted his hand. “Perhaps if we spoke to your brother, or—”
He shook his head. “Thank you, but no. It wouldn’t do any good. My brother is the most pompous, selfish man alive, at least as far as I’m concerned. It would make no difference. I asked on many occasions to be given more, as I know he could easily afford it, but he simply refused.”
Anger coursed through Patience. It was unthinkable that a member of her family would ever go hungry if she or her relatives had the means enough to share. Even her despicable cousin Robert, who out of greed nearly got Kitty killed the year before, had enough sustenance as he sat in prison for his crimes.
Poor Mr. Wycliff. Surely there was something that could be done.
Almost as if he knew her thoughts, he shook his head. “Miss Sullyard, don’t give it another thought. I didn’t tell you of it to gain sympathy. Truly. I only… it’s just pleasant to have someone to talk to. I guess I got a little carried away. Said some things I shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Walter shifted in his seat. Was he uncomfortable with the turn of their conversations? “Mr. Wycliff, if I may ask—”
“You may ask me anything, young man.”
“Those messages. I’m assuming they came from your hand?”
He nodded. “Yes. They did. Forgive my cryptic notes. It was the only way I could think to get anyone’s attention. You see, living here, by myself with only Phineas for company, had worn me down, led me to tie those messages to Phineas’ foot in hopes that you would read it. And find me.”
Patience leaned closer to Walter. The messages had been for them after all? “But we didn’t know of your existence until now. How could you know we’d find the messages on the bird and figure it all out?”
His eyes squinted at the corners. “As I said, I’ve been watching you. Saw you by Phineas’ other house many times. It was my hope that two such bright-looking young people would be able to solve a little mystery. Find me. Perhaps visit me. I was vague in my notes, and made sure not to sign them. If my brother found them on Phineas, he would have figured out it was from me. I couldn’t take the chance that he’d become angry and not allow me any food at all. So instead, I made the messages sound desperate, hoping you would want to try to find me. All I really desired was someone to talk to.”
Color of Danger (Sullyard Sisters Book 3) Page 11