The Apothecary (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  They passed through the tapestry room to the little parlour, but the most cursory glance around it sank any idea of finding Jerome. It was indeed a small room, and poorly furnished. There were no cupboards, no closets, not even a cabinet large enough to conceal an agile boy. A scattering of small tables and chairs, and a single sofa beside the empty hearth were all it contained, with a few indifferent paintings on the papered walls. Although Adam and Edwin lifted the rugs, and examined the floorboards, there was no sign of a hiding place.

  Annie stood with her back to the windows, facing the door. “Jerome noticed something odd about this room. What can it be?”

  “What is it used for?” Cecilia said. “A morning room? Or a small sitting room? It has not the same spacious proportions of the other rooms in the house, and juts out from the rest of the house. Was it added on later, perhaps?”

  “No, it—” Annie stopped dead. “Proportions… symmetrical… they should be symmetrical. Edwin, will you run and fetch the floor plan, if you please?” When he returned, she laid it down on a wobbly table and pointed. “Look… there are four rooms jutting out, two to each side of the house. On the kitchen wing, the scullery and still room. On this side, the blue room and the little parlour. All the same size… symmetrical. But they are not!”

  “But they are,” Cecilia said. “The plan clearly shows that they are the same size.”

  “On the plan, yes! But this room… I am sure it is smaller than shown… smaller than the blue room. That is what Jerome’s notes say. ‘Out 17 in 14’ The measurements inside and out. This room is smaller than the plan shows…three feet smaller, I would wager my life on it. Somewhere between this room and the hunting room is a hidden space, and Jerome is inside it.”

  “Inside the wall?” Cecilia said, horrified. “How will he breathe?”

  Panic rose to choke Annie. How would he breathe? A small cavity, perhaps sealed tight. How much air would he have? How long would it last a frightened boy of twelve? “It will be like a normal room,” she said, her voice high with terror. “There will be air… enough air… a vent, perhaps, or it may be an old staircase leading to an old cellar, perhaps. There will be air.”

  Surely there would be enough air?

  30: Many Visitors

  “Let me get Captain Edgerton back and a hammer or two, and we will have the wall down,” Adam said grimly.

  Annie’s heart slowed a little. “Yes… but Jerome got inside without dismantling the wall, so it should be possible to get him out. All we need to do is to find the way in.”

  “But if we cannot, then the wall must come down,” Adam said. “I shall find the captain.”

  He turned and would have gone at once. Panic swamped Annie anew. “No! Do not leave me!” They all turned to her, astonished at her vehemence. “I mean… it is better for you to stay here… a man… your greater strength… Let Edwin go.”

  “I will go,” Cecilia said quickly. “Annie is quite right. I can do nothing useful here, and if strength is necessary, then you may need both Adam and Edwin.”

  With a quick rustle of skirts she was gone. Adam and Edwin looked hopefully at Annie.

  “Where do we start looking?” Edwin said eagerly.

  “I have no idea,” she said. It was hopeless! How could they possibly find a door in minutes or hours that had taken Jerome weeks to find? And surely it would be too late! There was nothing to be done…

  “Annie?” Adam said. “You must have a plan… do you not?”

  The note of terror in his voice brought her sharply back to reality. Jerome was depending on them — on her — to rescue him, and Adam believed in her. She must not let them down, but it was imperative for her to think rationally. Deep breaths… in… out… and again… Her pulse calmed. To give herself time to think, she paced up and down the room.

  “The hidden space must run from the door to the outer wall… at most,” she said, trying to be absolutely accurate. “The door may be in this room, or in the hunting room, or it may be in the outside wall, although surely we would have known about that?”

  “There is a quantity of ivy on the walls,” Edwin said. “That may be hiding a door.”

  “True, but if this is a regular door, why can Jerome not escape? There must be more to it. Perhaps he has fallen from an entrance on an upper level?”

  “We looked everywhere upstairs,” Edwin said. “Jerome was convinced that, if there was a priest’s hole to be found, it would be in one of the principal rooms.”

  “A priest’s hole…” Annie felt weak with relief. “That would have an air hole, certainly. There will be no risk in a priest’s hole.” A blocked-off cellar or passageway would be a danger, but a priest’s hole… that would be designed for a man to hide for several hours. “Let us work systematically,” she said, with renewed conviction. “Edwin, do you know the butler’s pantry? There are spare candelabra there. Fetch as many as you can carry, and candles, too — the good beeswax ones, not cheap tallow. Now, Adam, we will examine this wall for possible doors.”

  He held a candelabrum in each hand while she slowly paced the full length of the wall, feeling carefully for any crack, however minute, that might indicate the presence of a door. There was nothing.

  “Very well. The hunting room, then. Ha! The hunting room… of course! The place where one must hunt for a priest… or a missing boy.”

  Edwin returned with his arms full of candelabra, and a box of candles. Slowly, candle by candle, the room was illuminated as bright as day.

  Annie gazed thoughtfully at the wall that adjoined the little parlour. Bookcases… nothing but solid, heavy bookcases from one end to the other. But now that she was looking at them with new eyes, alert to the least sign of a movable door, she became aware of the ornate tracery that adorned the ends of each case. They were exactly like…

  “Handles! These vines are handles.”

  Adam grabbed one and pulled. Nothing happened. “Edwin, help me!” he cried.

  “No!” Annie said. “If there is a door here, Jerome opened it himself. It does not need two grown men. Try the next one.”

  They tried. Nothing happened. Between them they pulled every piece of carved woodwork that might have been a handle, but to no effect.

  “It is not working,” Adam said. “Shall we try the outside wall?”

  “No, wait. If pulling does not work, try pushing.”

  “But there are handles! If they are there for any purpose at all, they must be pulled.”

  “Perhaps they are there to pull the door shut again. We must try everything, Adam. If one way fails, then try a different way.”

  With a sigh, Adam pushed the first bookcase. Nothing happened. He pushed the second bookcase. Nothing happened. He pushed the third bookcase…

  “It moved!” Edwin yelled.

  Adam pushed harder, and the bookcase opened into a pitch black void. “Jerome?” Adam said, his voice wavering. Then, more strongly, “Jerome!”

  Silence.

  Annie held her breath.

  Adam picked up a candelabrum and stepped gingerly into the narrow void. “It is empty,” he said, and the despair in his voice tore at Annie’s heart. “There is just an old box here. No Jerome.”

  Then, faint but unmistakable, a quavering voice. “Adam? Is that you?”

  “Jerome! Where are you?”

  “Behind the door.” Then, as Adam made to move the door aside, he almost screamed, “Do not shut it! It cannot be opened again!”

  “Cousin Annie is outside and will open it again. This place is so narrow that I must close the door to reach you. Annie, count to ten… no, to twenty, then push the door open again.”

  “Annie?” The pleasure in Jerome’s voice was unmistakable. “Are you there, too?”

  “I am, and Edwin. We will have you out in no time, Jerome. Close the door, Adam.”

  The door swung shut with a distinct clunk. Annie counted, then pushed it open again. Adam stepped out with a pale-faced Jerome in his arms.

&nb
sp; “Here he is, safe and sound.”

  “What an idiot you are,” Edwin yelled. “Why did you go in there without telling anyone?”

  Jerome grinned, and wriggled out of his brother’s grasp. “You discovered me in the end, and look!” He brandished a piece of vellum. “I found the will!”

  Before anyone could speak, Captain Edgerton burst into the room, followed by Mr Elkington, Benedict, Mr Willerton-Forbes, Dewey, Sheffield, Billy, the two Ransome brothers and several men Annie recognised from Adam’s estate, armed with a wide array of implements. It was clear that the tool store had been raided for anything portable, useful or not. Annie admired their enthusiasm, but it seemed unlikely that pitchforks and scythes would be helpful in demolishing a wall. Fortunately, seeing that they were unnecessary now, Captain Edgerton dispatched all the tools and most of the men. Momentarily the room seemed less crowded, but then Cecilia, Julia and the female servants edged in. Even Mrs Dresden, handkerchief in hand, came to assure herself that Jerome was unscathed.

  He loved being the centre of attention, relating in his clear voice his discovery of the priest’s hole and the box containing the will, how he had pushed the door aside to explore the rest of the hidden room and it had closed firmly, and how he had tried desperately to open it again, but there were no handles on the inside.

  Captain Edgerton wanted to explore the secret place for himself, eventually bringing out the box to be examined more carefully. Inside, apart from the will, with small bequests for his two natural sons, were letters and other papers relating to Rupert’s mistress, as well as details of some dubious land deals Rupert had effected in Grantham. Mr Willerton-Forbes pored over them, his face alight with pleasure.

  Annie edged herself away from the crowd. Once again she found herself separated from Adam, and this time there were no glances over the heads of the others and no reassurance. It was as if he had forgotten her.

  She was shaking. Perhaps it was the relief of finding Jerome safe, or perhaps it was Adam’s seeming indifference. Before his arrest, she had been quite sure of his feelings towards her and although she could not yet be certain of her own heart, it made her happy to know that she had his love. Yet now, all her certainty faded away.

  Creeping out of the room, she slipped into the deserted tapestry room and then into the little parlour. She was trembling too much to stand, so she sat on the sofa beside the cold hearth, an arrangement of pine cones filling the grate. A single candle danced in a draught, so that the shadows leapt hither and thither. To her dismay, hot tears trickled down her cheeks and she was powerless to stop them. Rocking gently, she surrendered to grief and hardly knew why.

  A masculine handkerchief was pressed into her hands. She had not heard Adam enter the room, but as always he had noticed her distress and followed her. That much at least had not changed! And, as always, his presence comforted her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, wiping away her tears.

  He sat down, although at the other end of the sofa from her. So far away! She ached for him to hold her, as he had done before, yet it was clear that he would not. What had changed? Just a few short days ago, he could not restrain himself, yet now—

  How foolish she was, with her husband barely a month dead, to be mooning over another man. How wicked she was, so be thinking so! It was wrong in every way.

  “It is the relief,” Adam said, his voice calm. “After the crisis comes the reaction. I was once involved in an affair of honour, not for myself, but as second for a friend. My behaviour during the meeting was perfectly correct, but as soon as it was over and it was clear both parties were uninjured, my knees almost buckled beneath me. Would you like a brandy?”

  She shook her head. He was trying to soothe her by his own composure, and although she would have preferred his arms around her, his words were helping. Her tears were gone, and she began to feel more like herself.

  “Thank you,” she said again, with a tremulous smile.

  He smiled, too, and at once her spirits soared, followed instantly by guilt. She lowered her head and smoothed her skirts, the stark black bombazine reminding her of her situation. She was in mourning and such feelings were most improper. And yet she could not help what she felt. It was so confusing.

  “I must make you an apology,” he said. She looked at him questioningly, but he averted his eyes and went on quickly, as if he had rehearsed his speech, “When I was imprisoned, I found myself with a great deal of time to think, and to reflect on all that I have done lately. Such reflections were painful to me. Annie, I have behaved very badly towards you. No, no, pray say nothing. Let me confess my sins at once and have done with it. I have always prided myself on my open nature… my uninhibited conversation and behaviour. Whatever I feel or think, the world will know it and I have never made the least attempt to dissemble. That approach led me into trouble, particularly with Rupert, who saw, as everyone must have done, my admiration for you and my disapprobation of his treatment of you. What I did not appreciate at the time was that my uncontrolled behaviour affected you, too. Not only did Rupert keep you on a tighter rein than ever because of it, but half the neighbourhood must have wondered whether I could speak so warmly of you without some encouragement. I even wrote openly to Cecilia about you — how I regret that! She could never be discreet.”

  His hands moved restlessly against his knees, back and forth, back and forth, rubbing against his silk evening breeches. The fob at his waist glimmered in the wavering candlelight. He paused for so long that she wondered if he had ground to a halt, but after a few moments he heaved a loud breath and carried on.

  “I said much to you that should not have been said,” he said slowly. “My behaviour has been grossly improper. I have caused speculation to be voiced against you, and importuned you at a time when you were entitled to expect the utmost restraint from those around you. With all the changes in your life — your sudden marriage, Rupert’s death, the coming child — it was ungentlemanly of me to use you so. It is fortunate for me that your own behaviour has always been above reproach, so that the blame for these wrongs lies entirely at my door.”

  “Not always above reproach,” she said, with a quick smile of remembrance.

  “Now that I will not accept,” he said fiercely. “You have a gentle heart, that is all, and wished to comfort my distress. You should never have been placed in such an awkward position that you felt it necessary. Let me at last see myself as I truly am — a despicable man who treated you with abominable disrespect, both before and after Rupert’s death. But I am resolved to do better, Annie! I can be better, I know it, for I am quite determined to repair the damage I have caused to your reputation. To that end, therefore, I will behave to you always as a gentleman should — with courtesy and consideration, but without importuning you.”

  “You will not go away?” she said in sudden panic.

  His face softened. “I will not. I will always be here to offer you whatever support you need from me, but while you are in mourning, I shall not speak of… other things. But the day you set aside your blacks, then I shall speak. By then, all this will be behind us, you will have your child and you will understand your own heart and what you wish for your future and your child’s.”

  “The nineteenth day of August,” she said. “That will be the day I set aside my blacks.”

  “Then you may look for me on that day, but until then, I shall be your cousin only.”

  “And my friend?”

  With a hint of his previous intensity, he whispered, “Forever that, come what may.”

  “Thank you,” was all she said.

  ~~~~~

  Annie could scarcely believe how much this conversation relieved her mind. She did not have to wrestle with her own confused feelings. Instead, she could prepare for the birth of her child untroubled by thoughts of Adam, or at least, since it was impossible not to think of him, untroubled by the difficulties of knowing what to do about him.

  Jerome was none the worse for his mis
adventure, although he refused to enter the priest’s hole again. “There is writing,” he said quietly.

  The next morning, Adam showed Annie the section of the room behind the door. There was a bed there, and a folding shelf to hold a Bible or crucifix, and in the furthest corner, a closet with a close stool. On the wall beside the bed was written in charcoal, ‘If I should die, know that my father locked me in here three days ago. Herbert Huntly. 7th May 177-’

  “He would have been ten when he wrote that,” Adam said, holding the lamp high so that Annie could read the markings.

  “Poor little boy! Oh! The punishment room! Rupert was going to put me in here, when I defied him. What a horrible place! And poor Jerome, to find himself trapped here, in such surroundings. But he had light… a candle to see by?”

  “For a while. When it eventually burnt out, and he had exhausted himself shouting for help and looking for a way out, he lay down on the bed and slept. He was asleep when we first opened the door. That moment when we broke in and there was only silence! I confess, I was almost in despair at that point. Hearing his voice again was the sweetest sound! I shall never complain about his chattering again.”

  “You will, of course,” she said, smiling. “But this is such a small enclosure. Is there an air vent?”

  “Up there, high on the outer wall. It is covered by creepers and invisible on the outside, but this was a priest’s hole, so it would have been designed to keep a man hidden for hours or days, if need be.”

  “Or a child,” she said sombrely. “What a dreadful thing for a father to do to his son. No wonder Herbert grew up so cold and distant. The only person he was so fond of was his mother.”

  “Who failed to protect him from his father, and then ran away to Ireland with her lover,” Adam said acidly.

  “It is difficult to defy one’s husband,” Annie said quietly. “He may have mistreated her, too. No, I cannot blame her.”

  The days following Jerome’s accidental imprisonment were as busy as any Annie had known. All their neighbours were struck as one with an urgent wish to congratulate Jerome on his lucky escape, hinting in a variety of ingenious ways to inveigle an invitation to view the priest’s hole. None of them succeeded, for Annie refused to have the hunting room invaded by every casual visitor.