Mistress of Darkness: Dredthorne Hall Book 2

by Hunter, Hazel

  “Really?” He folded the knife closed and pocketed it. “I don’t see the connection.”

  “Honestly,” she admitted. “I don’t either. It’s just a feeling I have. Perhaps something that I’ve read in the journals.”

  He also pocketed the tiny piece of jewelry in his waistcoat. “Thackery said I was sedated. If someone had wanted me dead, why not poison me?”

  She frowned at him. “You’re splitting hairs. It’s only a matter of degrees. Who can say what would have happened if you’d drunk more?”

  “The fire could have been an accident,” he countered. “Started by a candle I might have knocked over.”

  Now he was starting to make her angry. “Then we shall go down to the library and see.”

  * * *

  By the time they went to the library, Parks had almost finished cleaning it. Robert did his best to disguise his disappointment at his valet’s prompt and fastidious action.

  “Your papers appear in good order, sir,” the valet said, indicating the bundle.

  “Good,” Robert said and exchanged a look with an obviously displeased Gwen.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to save the curtains, sir.” He indicated the charred pile of fabric on the floor. A strong smell of smoke emanated from them. Then he pointed at the ceiling. “I’ll have to fetch the ladder to clean the ceiling.”

  A ring of black soot stained the ornate panels above them.

  “Parks,” Gwen interjected, “did you find a candle overturned, perhaps on the floor, that might have started the fire?”

  “No, Miss,” Parks replied. “There was nothing on the floor.”

  Gwen smiled primly as she looked at Robert and nodded.

  “You’re certain?” Robert said as he walked over to where the fire had obviously singed the floorboards. It’d then crept up the curtains and almost set the ceiling on fire, its destructive path only too clear.

  Parks looked from Robert to Gwen and then back again. “Absolutely certain, sir.”

  Gwen moved to the desk where the bundle of papers still sat, where Robert had left them, but then she cocked her head and turned to face them.

  “And the port?” Gwen asked, looking around the room. “What has happened to it?”

  “Well, Miss,” Parks said quickly, “after what the doctor said, I thought I’d better pour it down the sink. So that’s what I did.” He glanced nervously at Robert. “Did I do right, sir?”

  “Yes, of course, Parks,” Robert said in a soothing voice. “Miss Archer and I are just reviewing the…facts, as it were.”

  “I presume you’ve also washed the glass,” Gwen said, more statement than question.

  “Yes, Miss,” his valet said, grimacing. “But that’s all. I swear it. That’s all that I’ve removed.”

  Before his valet could feel any worse for doing his job, Robert said, “That will be all, Parks. I appreciate your cleaning up. Thank you.”

  With another worried look at Gwen, Parks bowed to them both and hurriedly went to the door.

  “Oh, and Parks?” Robert added. His valet turned back to him. “Thank you for helping to save my life last night.”

  A smile lit the older man’s face. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” He bowed and left.

  When Gwen turned to him, Robert expected that her consternation might overflow. But instead a devious little grin curled her lips. “Do you see what is missing?”

  As Robert turned about the room, he tried to picture it as it was last night. He’d brought in the bottle of port and a glass, and then remembered that he’d left the bundle of papers in the secret library. He’d brought them here to the desk and untied the string that bound them. Then he’d struck a match, and lit the candle in its holder.

  “The candle,” he muttered, scanning the entire room.

  Gwen came to stand at his side. “Strange isn’t it? That the one thing that could have started the fire is completely missing, let alone on the floor?”

  “Well, it has to be here,” he said, moving aside the papers and the inkstand. “Parks said that the port and glass were all that he removed.” But the more he looked, the more it seemed she was right. Though he searched the myriad bookshelves, the various small tables, and even moved the urns and sculptures set upon them, the candle and holder were nowhere to be seen. He turned to Gwen, somewhat chastened.

  “You’re right,” he said. “It isn’t here.”

  Her eyes took on a twinkle. “There is one more thing for which we can search.” Luckily she didn’t wait for him to guess. “A secret passage.”

  He drew his brows together. “I’ve been in and out of this room a hundred times, Gwen.” When he saw her face fall, he stopped himself. “All right, what makes you think we’d find one here?”

  “The missing candle,” she said, smiling. With hands on her hips, she surveyed the entire room. “We must turn this place upside down and inside out if that’s what it takes. But I’m telling you, there’s more hidden in Dredthorne Hall than we have glimpsed. Mrs. Thorne sensed it even if she couldn’t say it in so many words. She wrote repeatedly that Miss Wilson moved in the shadows.”

  Robert took off his jacket, tossed it on a chair, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Where shall we start?”

  Now she beamed at him. “I adore it when you let me have my way,” she said, then put a finger to her chin as she considered. After a moment, she gave a reproving tsk. “Of course. We must start near the fire.”

  As she directed, he moved the ruined curtains aside and she stepped to the wall. “In my dressing room, there was a distinct if very thin line where the wall was divided.”

  “Yes,” he said, joining her in front of the flocked paper-hanging that covered the wall. Though it was fire-darkened, it was otherwise undamaged. “I recall how it looked in the kitchen as well. But in an old building like this, such small cracks wouldn’t be out of place.”

  “And difficult to see,” she agreed, “if you didn’t know to look. But perhaps…” She smoothed her fingers across the wall. “…it would be easier to feel than see.” She closed her eyes.

  Though he knew that he should do the same, he couldn’t help but watch her for a moment. A tiny furrow creased the space between her elegant eyebrows as she concentrated. Her petal shaped lips parted, ever so slightly, and he could see her eyes moving beneath the closed lids.

  “Your staring at me isn’t going to help,” she said quietly, eyes still closed. A little smile played across her lips. “Try the other wall.”

  Reluctantly he left her and began his own touch exploration. Because of the deeply textured flocking, it was as difficult to feel a fine detail as it was to see it. For several silent minutes, the two of them explored. But just when he’d been ready to give up, his index finger brushed over something. He stopped and opened his eyes.

  At first he didn’t see anything, amidst the mass of swirling designs meant to look like cut velvet flowers and leaves. But just to the left of his finger, there was something he couldn’t quite make out. Was it a shadow? He moved closer for a better look. No, it was a gap—and a straight one at that. His gaze shot downward, following the line all the way to the floor.

  “Gwen? I think you should have a look at this.”

  She was at his side in an instant. “You did it!” she exclaimed. “Now push, just to one side of the line.”

  Again he did as she instructed, and they were instantly rewarded with a small click, the sound of faint scraping, and the revolving door moving inward.

  “Amazing,” he whispered, as they peered inside.

  Dust and cobwebs filled the short passage which ended in a sharp left turn. Beyond that, there was only darkness.

  “It needs light,” she said, hurrying off and returning with two candles and matches. He quickly lit them and, when she would have gone first, he put a light hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “Honestly,” she said, “I explored the first one on my own.”

  “That’s because I wasn’t there,”
he said, “and you were more foolhardy then. Now that you are mine, I cannot permit it.” Then he pointed at the floor just inside the door. “Besides, look at what you would have tread on.”

  There, in the dust of the floor, were scuff marks. She lowered her candle to them. “If I’m not mistaken, these are fresh. No dust has settled within them.”

  “Can you tell if they are from a man or woman’s shoe?” he asked, since the narrow passage would only fit one of them.

  She shook her head and stood. “They’re just scuff marks.”

  Though she looked into the passage, lifting her candle for what light it shed, she did not proceed further. Instead, with a heavy sigh, she stayed where she was. Finally she looked at him, and motioned for him to pass her.

  * * *

  As Gwen followed Robert into the dark passage, and made the left turn, she could barely suppress her excitement. Where would it lead? Would they find a secret room at last? Had Mrs. Thorne been right about Miss Wilson skulking in deep shadows?

  Although this passageway was of a height where they didn’t need to crawl, it wound left and right so many times that she completely lost her sense of direction. Where in the world could they possibly be after so many steps?

  Robert came to a stop in front of her. “There it is,” he finally said.

  “Do you see the end?” she gasped, hopping and trying to look over his rather broad and too tall shoulder.

  “It’s a pit of darkness,” he said. “So I suspect so.” In another moment, they had their answer. “I believe it’s another revolving door.”

  “Open it,” she said eagerly. “Let’s go through.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and caught her eye. “Be prepared to run, Gwen. If I say the word, I want you to turn on your heel and run as fast as your legs will take you.” He paused until she nodded. “Good. Now stand back.”

  She backed up two paces and held her candle high.

  “Here we go,” he muttered as he pushed on the door.

  Light spilled around them as the revolving door slowly spun. Robert stepped through, still blocking the exit, as he quickly checked left and right. Finally he stood aside and motioned her through.

  She emerged into a large room, though somewhat barren and undecorated. It held a simple, long wooden table, with at least a dozen well-used chairs on each side of it. Two moderately better chairs sat at each end. There were two exits, though both doors were closed, and a small fireplace was located in the corner, unused.

  Because there were no windows, she couldn’t even use the grounds to orient herself. “I don’t recognize this place,” she said, gazing around at it.

  “You wouldn’t,” Robert said. “It’s the servant’s hall.”

  “The servant’s hall,” she echoed, lifting her candle. Then her eyes widened. “Oh heavens. Servants?” When she looked at him, her brows had arched high. “Parks is–”

  “Beyond reproach,” Robert declared. “The man has been serving the Sheraton family for his entire adult life. Also, I might remind you, he’s the only one who stayed.”

  “Well that’s just it, isn’t it?” she said. “He’s the only one here besides us.”

  “And your ghosts,” he reminded her, and then grimaced. He paused and took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s have something to eat. I’ll think better when my stomach isn’t hollow.”

  Though she wasn’t convinced at the sudden change in conversation, she thought better of pressing her point. “I’m famished,” she said, and looked at both exits. “Which way are the kitchens?”

  Chapter 14

  Although their meal consisted of cold cured ham, cheddar cheese and bread again, Gwen wouldn’t complain. It’d been a stellar day so far. She’d managed to convince Robert that indeed someone had set the fire, and then likely taken the candle with them through the new secret passage. Though she’d probably never convince him that it could have been Parks, that fact seemed obvious to her. But what she couldn’t puzzle out was why. What would the valet have to gain? If he wanted to steal, there was every opportunity. Certainly he could never inherit.

  Inheritance, she thought. There was something about that notion that bothered her. She took another bite of her ham before it occurred to her.

  “Robert, do you still have that earring?” He seemed lost in thought and she realized that, while she’d eaten nearly all her food, most of his was untouched. “Robert?”

  “What?” he said, looking at her. “Oh yes, of course.” He produced it from his waistcoat pocket. “Here it is.”

  She examined the exquisite jewelry in a new light, particularly the different colored diamonds. She was quite sure her conclusion was right. “It belonged to Miss Wilson.”

  He stared at her, a dumbfounded look on his face. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Too many diamonds,” she said. “Look at it. It’s not just an earring, it’s a statement. Remember that there must have been another one to match it as well, and likely some sort of necklace or pendant too.” She set it on the table between them. “Mrs. Thorne impresses me as a more serious woman. Not only that, she had all of this.” She looked around the living room. “She had Dredthorne Hall and possibly an inheritance or dowry of her own. But a courtesan who lived on the kindness of her paramours? This would be her only support, her only form of security.”

  He regarded her solemnly. “One can hardly refute your logic, dear Gwen.” But when she thought he might take her hand, or congratulate her, he looked back at his plate.

  “So,” she said in a teasing tone, trying to lighten his mood, “it would seem you’ve had a courtesan in your bedchamber, Mr. Sheraton. Would you care to explain?”

  He set down his fork and knife. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I’m afraid you must leave.”

  If he’d told her that the moon was made of green cheese, she couldn’t have been more thunderstruck. “I don’t understand,” was all she could think to say.

  “I should have made you leave when Frances died, or when my chair legs were sawed through, or when the chandelier fell. Now we find that this damnable hall could be riddled through with secret passages. I cannot safeguard you under these circumstances. So I must ask you to leave.”

  “But after everything we’ve been through together,” she said, trying to keep the pleading tone out of her voice, but not succeeding. “After everything we mean to each other. How can you–”

  “That is precisely why, my dearest Gwen.” He took her hand in both of his. “I cannot in good conscience keep you with me, though I desire it more than anything in the world.”

  She took her hand back. “Well certainly I have some say in it,” she declared. “I am not to be–”

  “No, Gwen,” he said, standing. “You do not have a say in it. Please pack your trunks. I’ll let Parks know.”

  With that he stalked off, and Gwen knew from the stiff set of his shoulders and his pounding footsteps, that he meant every word. More than that, she knew he would not be moved by anything she could say—because he was right.

  Chapter 15

  When Gwen came down the stairs in her heavy traveling coat and bonnet, Robert was waiting for her.

  “Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

  “Everything is packed,” she said curtly, without looking at him.

  Though she tried to pass him by as she headed to the entry hall, he caught her arm. “Gwen, please,” he said. “This is the last thing I want. Surely you must know that.” He turned her to face him. “I’d give anything to have you with me.”

  “Then let me stay,” she blurted out, glaring into his chest. “I can take care of myself. I can–”

  He lifted her chin and the moment that she’d dreaded was upon her. His soft gaze lingered on her eyes, then her lips, and the resolve that she’d spent the last hour hoarding evaporated.

  “Oh, Robert,” she sighed, her eyes filling with tears as she fell into his arms.

  “I know,”
he whispered. “I feel just the same.”

  For a long time he simply held her, and Gwen prayed it could go on forever. No place felt safer than in his strong arms and nestled against his hard chest. But when he finally drew back, he didn’t let her go. Instead he held her face between his wonderful hands, and leaned down and kissed her. Unlike their first kiss, there was no hurry and no crush. Instead, he took his time as he melded their lips together. His mouth was warm and gentle, and his touch so full of tenderness that she felt she could cry again. With the soft and insistent caress of his lips, he kissed her breathless and when they finally separated, she had to gasp.

  “Don’t forget that,” he whispered and touched his forehead to hers. “Because I won’t.”

  She smiled through her tears. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

  He let her go and stood back, then gazed through the open entry. “Where is Parks? I’ll need his help with those trunks.”

  She swiped at her eyes and sniffed a little. “Perhaps he needs help with the rig?”

  “I’ll go and find out,” he said.

  Quickly, she latched onto his arm. She’d spend every last second that she could with him. “I’ll go with you.”

  The day outside was gray with a dense fog that blanketed the grounds and surrounding land. Though the mist was heavy, the temperature wasn’t as severely cold as it had been. Riding in the rig wouldn’t be freezing, but it would be wet.

  “I’m sending Parks with you,” he said. “He’ll purchase a carriage and horse for us in Renwick, if he can find one. Even a pony cart would do. Just something to–”

  As they crossed the threshold of the stable, they saw a body on the ground.

  Robert surged forward, as Gwen lifted her skirts and coat and ran after him. Her hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. It was Parks, laying on his back.

  “Oh, Robert! Is he…?”

  Robert pressed his fingers to the valet’s neck. She saw a gash on the older man’s forehead and bruising on his cheek. “No, he’s alive, but his pulse is very weak.”