The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy (28 page)

Cowan continued systematically to check every inch of the wall. “How large of an opening?”

“Maybe two inches,” Darcy confirmed. “The length of the first two knuckles of a person's index finger.”

Cowan chuckled. “An interesting observation, Mr. Darcy.” The man never removed his eyes from the section of wood planks which his fingers searched. He looked for imperfections and darkened indentations.

“Search lower,” Elizabeth suggested.

The Runner straightened, but his hands remained flattened to the rough surface. “Explain, Mrs. Darcy,” he instructed.

Elizabeth stammered, “By...by analogy, the device in the library is in the top corner of the highest shelf. This room is below the ground floor of the main house. Why should it not, therefore, have the lever near the skirting board?”

Cowan shrugged his shoulders in a “Why not?” gesture. He marked his place on the wooden slats with a small piece of chalk he had removed from a purse in his inside pocket. Then he bent low to examine the area below the wainscoting. On his knees, Cowan's fingers traced the baseboard. “Could you set your lantern on the floor, Mr. Darcy?” he asked in that tone Darcy now recognized as the man's being engrossed in his own thoughts.

Darcy was glad to have the excuse to move freely about the enclosure, but he was cognizant of his own cautions. He elongated his stride to step over the telltale trail of feminine footprints. Edging carefully about the corner of one of the storage cases, Darcy knelt beside the Runner and tilted the lantern to where it might shed light on the area.

“I may have something,” Cowan said with a grunt. “What do you think?” The Runner indicated a recessed area directly below the seam of a corner where two walls met.

Aware of his clothing and of how Mr. Sheffield would react to yet another set of stained breeches, Darcy placed one knee on the floor and followed Cowan's lead. His fingers searched the indentation. Then he felt it. As his fingers grazed the metal bar, he said with true reverence, “Mrs. Darcy, you remain the most unrivaled woman of my acquaintance.”

Elizabeth giggled with delight. “I was correct?”

“It appears so, my dear.” Darcy adjusted his stance. He leaned an open palm against the wall and lifted up on the flat metal. Immediately, the wall groaned and separated along the corner. The wooden wall swiveled away from where Darcy knelt, and he and Cowan stood slowly. Through the small crack in the darkness, the muffled sounds of night could be heard at a distance. The chirp of insects. The hoot of an owl. Darcy lifted his lantern higher as Cowan reached for the light he had left on the cases.

“What do you see, Darcy?” Edward called. He could tell from his cousin's voice that the colonel had moved closer.

Darcy's eyes narrowed. “Steps. Ones made of bricks.” He glanced to Cowan and asked the unspoken question. The Runner nodded his agreement, and together, they caught the partially opened crack in the wall with their free hands and pulled. The wall revolved, and the opening gaped before them. He said over his shoulder, “Cowan and I will return in a moment. Colonel, I charge you to protect Mrs. Darcy.” He did not expect trouble, but he would anticipate it nonetheless.

“Be careful, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth whispered from behind him.

He did not turn around, but a lift of his shoulders spoke the words of affection, which he could not say before the others. Instead, he spoke to the Runner, “As you have more experience than I in these matters, perhaps you should take the lead, Cowan.”

The Runner set his lantern inside the space, but he did not retrieve it as he shouldered his way through the opening. Darcy followed suit, but he carried his light to the steps before he set it upon the ground. As he had come closer, he could see that the steps numbered but ten. Cautiously, he edged his way upward along the damp stairs. The passage was narrow, but solidly built. He would have expected nothing less of Samuel Darcy. His cousin Samuel was a man who tended to details.

“Give me your assistance, Darcy,” Cowan said as he put his shoulder to a solid wall.

Darcy retreated a few steps to catch up the lantern. “Is there another lever?” he asked as he slid into place beside the Runner.

Cowan shook his head in the negative. “It does not appear so,” he said abstractedly. His fingers searched the surface.

“There must be some sort of lock,” Darcy insisted. He joined the Runner in seeking the slab's truth.

Edward called from the lower chamber, “The opening in Pater's wine cellar slides to the left. Perhaps this is similar. Lodge your fingers in the groove and give it a tug.” Neither the colonel's curiosity nor his advice surprised either Darcy or Cowan. Instead, they followed his cousin's instructions. They found a slight indentation, and, using their fingertips, they whisked the hidden door from its place. On an unseen set of hinges, the once-immovable slab disappeared in a precut recess.

“Never seen anything like it,” Cowan grumbled as he scrambled to his feet.

Darcy agreed, but he did not vocalize his wonder. “Let us discover where this passage leads.”

Cowan took the last few steps into the open. “Just as I suspected,” he said to the night. The Runner glanced to the darkened canvas. He said philosophically, “The night has rolled up its sleeves, but it has left its guard down nonetheless.”

Darcy stood beside the man. They both straightened their shoulders after emerging from the low-ceilinged passage. “Mrs. Darcy will be beside herself with glee,” he observed. “She has expertly forecasted our destination by reading my cousin's journals.”

“Beyond the wall is the kitchen garden,” Cowan noted. “To the right,” he gestured, “is the sundial and the columns leading to the arbor.”

Darcy stared into the blackness. Nothing moved. The night appeared calm and inviting, but he suspected that it held a great evil. He asked, “Could my cousin have left the door ajar on the evening he found the map?”

Cowan glanced about the area. “The opening could easily be concealed. Unless one was searching for it, a person would likely overlook the disguise.”

Darcy, too, studied the area. “Then we cannot be certain whether our intruder meant to enter the passage or simply stumbled upon it by accident.”

“Either way,” the Runner noted, “the unknown woman has entered without permission. Perhaps it is best if we discover whether anything is missing.” Cowan hesitated before adding, “We should have one of the men guard this entrance. Perhaps we should ask Captain Tregonwell to recommend one or two more.”

Darcy roused himself from his own musings. “I will send Mr. Holbrook to Bournemouth in the morning.” He glanced toward the opening. “We should return to where the others wait.”

Cowan looked off to the lower garden. “If you can handle the door alone, Sir, I believe I will have a closer look around. I like being outside on a clear night.”

“Now that I understand the how of it, I suspect I can manage. I will ask Mr. Poore to organize the men to secure the opening.”

Cowan smiled easily. “I will wait close by until one of Tregonwell's men arrives.” He said teasingly, “I might even try to operate the door from this side.”

Darcy's gaze returned to the opening. “I suspect if a woman can manage the door's weight, neither of us will suffer unduly.” He shook the Runner's hand. “Be safe.”

Cowan stood silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “When the colonel and I were in Corunna...when we fought our way across Spain, your cousin often spoke of your close kinship, and I found myself wishing for the acquaintance.” An awkward pause occurred. “I suppose the colonel has spoken of my irreverent disregard of most officers.”

Darcy's slight smile of remembrance served as his response.

Cowan chuckled, “I thought as much.” The man's lips twitched in mild disapproval. “I always respected the colonel, the captain then, because he spoke the truth. Yet, when he spoke of your friendship, I thought in that matter Captain Fitzwilliam had added appropriate embellishments. I am pleased to be found in error.”

“I owe you a debt of honor, Cowan, but even if it were not so, I would be proud to have your acquaintance,” Darcy said honestly. They separated with a new understanding.

Darcy slipped through the opening and slid the door into place. He had noted that on the outside, the opening appeared to be part of the wall separating the formal garden from the vegetable patch outside the kitchen's door. Only servants would use this part of the garden. Whoever had entered Samuel's hidden room was likely one of the Woodvine staff. The realization only added to his dread. He had suspected that the key to solving this mystery resided under Woodvine's roof. Now, he had proof of it.

Reentering Samuel's hidden room, he lifted both lanterns to set them upon the storage boxes. “Where is Cowan?” Edward asked.

“Mr. Cowan thought it best if he stood guard outside until one of Tregonwell's men assumes the duty.” Darcy worked his way to Elizabeth's side.

Edward said, “Then I will send one of Tregonwell's former recruits to relieve Mr. Cowan.” Darcy watched as his cousin cautiously made his exit toward the library and the waiting guards.

“What did you discover, Mr. Darcy?” Franklyn asked.

Darcy stood with his hands clasped behind him. “It is as Mrs. Darcy has indicated. The opening is at the rear of the garden. Near the columns and sundial.”

Elizabeth said in a quiet voice, “Thank you, Fitzwilliam.” Her eyes sparkled, and Darcy understood his wife's quiet pleasure at having been of service. Men, as a general rule, did not appreciate an intelligent woman, but he did, and Darcy would readily recognize Elizabeth's mindful insights with honest benevolence.

“Can you tell, Sir,” Sedgelock interrupted their unspoken admiration, “from your last visit to this room, whether anything is amiss?”

Darcy glanced about the room. “Difficult to say from this position. Allow me a moment to examine the area.” He retrieved his lantern before slowly circumambulating the room. “It does not appear as if the locks on the display cases have been breached.” He gave a gentle tug on one of the hinged locks before moving on.

As he approached the corner where he and Elizabeth had found the documents of the possible coven, Elizabeth asked, “What of the maps?”

Darcy paused to peruse the items. “Someone has searched the documents on this table. Items have been moved.” He picked up several stacks of papers and thumbed through them. “I see no evidence of the map.”

Elizabeth said, “I had hoped to compare the map's features to that of Mr. Rupp's field.”

Only Darcy realized how still she had become. In silence, Elizabeth came to his side. “We should have considered a second entrance,” he said softly. Without a word, Elizabeth sorted the papers on the makeshift desk.

Meanwhile, Darcy finished his tour of the room. He lifted several pages from those scattered across another table's surface. “I see nothing that should affect your study of Cousin Samuel's archaeological finds,” he said distractedly. Rolling the document to take it with him, he said, “I believe you can safely catalog Samuel's Egyptian and Persian treasures without further delay. I would simply ask that you remain cognizant of the intruder's footprints. I intend to send for the magistrate.” He stacked his cousin's writings in a box. “I believe Mrs. Darcy and I will take these other papers above. If we discover anything of import, we will inform you immediately.” He lifted the box. “By the way, Franklyn, I suppose my cousin's journals are under lock and key in your quarters.” The statement was a question.

The man's voice betrayed his obvious second thoughts. “I fear the late Mr. Darcy's writings are on display on the desk in my chambers.”

Though he felt anything but indulgent, Darcy nodded his understanding. Despite his having cautioned the Society members of the need to safeguard Cousin Samuel's legacy, in his distraction Franklyn had left Samuel's personal papers open to scrutiny. “Mrs. Darcy and I will retrieve Samuel's journals, if you hold no objection.”

A reluctant, self-conscious laugh surfaced. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.” Franklyn inclined his head in agreement.

Feeling dreadful presentiments, he was annoyed by the error, but what could he do? It was not as if Darcy held the expertise to complete the Society's part of this venture. All he could do was to concentrate his efforts toward discovering the mystery of Samuel's death and disappearance. If worse became the standard, he could always turn the supervision of the Antiquarians' task over to Rardin. As if completing his own inventory, his gaze carefully examined the room. “We will leave you to it.” He caught Elizabeth's elbow to lead her from the room. “Come along, Mrs. Darcy.” He noted that she carried a sizable stack of bound documents and loose papers in her grasp.