by Sahara Kelly
“How nice of him.”
“He said…he said he knew your father and Mr. Derby had said to make sure he said hello to me and Sully.” Benby looked at Hannah anxiously. “That was nice of him too, wasn’t it, c-c-c-cousin?”
“Of course it was.” She soothed him. “And then…I will wager he bought you and Sully a cup of tea.”
“However did you guess?” He smiled at her.
“I know you like a cup of tea and biscuits, and I remember Sully’s fondness for a bite of biscuit himself.” She chuckled. “Was that when he asked for your help?”
Benby shook his head. “That was later. He came to the house and he had a puppy as well. Sully loved playing with it. We took the dogs for walks along Pine Tree lane. You remember?”
Hannah recalled the long walk lined with evergreens. “Yes, I do. Lovely place for a stroll.”
“Well it was on one of those walks that he asked me if I’d met you and if I knew where you were.”
“Ah, I see.”
“I didn’t, so I said he should ask your father. He said he had and that Mr. Derby couldn’t find you and was worried about you. And then he said if he could find you—“ he looked confused. “When I said he, I meant Mr. Smith…”
“I understand. Go on…”
“Well, he said he was going to find you and take you back to your father so he wouldn’t worry anymore. And then he asked would I like to help him.” He looked at her. “I said yes because you’re my friend.”
Hannah smiled. “That was most kind of you Benby. Just the sort of thing a friend would do.”
“Definitely.” Charles pushed the teapot across the table. “Have another cup.”
“Thank you sir.” Benby did as he was told and poured more tea. After that, it was relatively simple to extract the rest of the tale.
Charles, Martin and Hannah listed as the story unfolded. A simple man, following what he thought was the right path.
They’d traveled to the Sow’s Ear, where Smith had told Benby to find Hannah, cover her mouth with a cloth and bring her out to him and the cart. They would wrap her up warmly and take her to a house where her father would come and take her home.
Mr. Derby had been there, said Benby. He’d seen him, but not spoken to him. It has all been just like Mr. Smith had promised.
When asked about how he got into the inn, he said Mr. Smith had shown him a secret door. It led to a small set of stairs and up to a room—Hannah’s room.
It was all quite easy, said Benby. Just like Mr. Smith said it would be.
“There’s one thing, Benby.” Hannah spoke at the end of the revelation. “Martin has a bruise on his face. Did you hit him?”
“Oh n-n-n-no, cousin. He was pushing at the door and I pushed harder and he moved back wrong and I b-b-b-bumped him with the door.” He looked sad. “He was very angry. I had to t-t-t-tie him to the ch-ch-ch-chair…” He raised his head and looked at Martin. “I’m very s-s-s-sorry, s-s-s-sir…I thought you were g-g-g-going to hurt m-m-m-me.” His chin trembled again. “And he d-d-d-didn’t know where you were anyway.”
“It’s all right, cousin.” Hannah calmed him again. “Drink your tea. You’ve told us the truth and now we understand. I’m sure Martin will forgive you.” She shot the old man a pointed look.
“Well now,” he stroked his chin. “Looks to me like yer a good cousin to our Hannah here. So I’ll ferget this little argy-bargy, lad. Jus’ don’t do it agin.”
*~~*~~*
Before long, more customers arrived at the inn; some were travellers looking for a room or a warm meal, and others regulars stopping by for a tankard of ale—along with a happy smile for Hannah.
She returned the smiles and laughed as the room filled, finally popping around the bar, grabbing her apron and slipping back into the role of serving wench.
Charles opened his mouth to remind her that she was actually Lady Penvale and at the very least required a new apron to indicate her changed status. But she looked so happy, he didn’t have the heart to interrupt.
One tall man entered and she called out to him, then turned and beckoned Charles.
“My Lord, may I introduce my sort of cousin? He is brother-in-law to my cousin Michael who lives near here.”
Charles shook his hand. “Are you an Agister as well?”
The man smiled. “Indeed I am, my Lord.”
“I’d love to hear about that some day. It’s quite fascinating and unique to this part of the country, I believe.”
He blinked as Hannah tugged on his arm.
“You can stop being charming, dear. I am going to ask John if he’ll take Benby with him and keep him at his house for a while.”
Three heads turned to see Benby stroking a kitten, which had wandered in unnoticed.
“He’s very gentle, John, and a mite slow, but he loves animals, as you can see. Right now, it is important that he stay out of sight of my father. There’s been some trouble and I do not want Benby taking the blame for actions that were not his idea.”
John nodded. “Happy to do that, cousin Hannah. We have a little girl and she’s in love with anything small and furry. I believe your Benby will enjoy her company and she’ll enjoy his, which will give my wife a bit of a rest. Our second’s on the way.” He blushed with pride.
“You’re helping us out, sir. And we very much appreciate it.” The hand was offered again as Charles smiled his thanks.
“It’s an honor, my Lord. Forgive me for not congratulating you both sooner.” He grinned at the happy couple. “You’ve done well, Hannah. Luckier than your sisters, I’ll be bound.”
Hannah nodded. “I think so, too, John. And I know they’re happy for me today.”
“I’m sure they are. And just send me word when all’s cleared up and we’ll make sure Benby gets home.”
Charles took her hand and squeezed it as they watched John cross the busy room, speak with Benby for a little while, and then lead the man out of the door.
“I like that fellow.” Charles sighed. “And you were quite right. We need to keep Benby away from your father.”
She leaned into him for a moment. “I wish we could keep everyone away from him, including ourselves.”
“Agreed.”
Then Hannah’s name was called by a new arrival and she was off to receive more hugs and a hearty welcome back. Charles knew she was, for the moment, safe as could be.
Now that he had a minute to himself, he turned to the immediate project at hand.
As soon as Benby had revealed his access to the Sow’s Ear, Charles’s attention was fixed on finding and closing that particular door. A brief word with Martin confirmed that the older man knew nothing of such an entrance, and would Charles please locate it immediately so that it could be sealed.
Two men with a single goal. But Martin was busy with his customers, so Charles slipped outside, hoping that now he was aware of a hidden doorway, he might be able to find it.
It proved fruitless, however.
The back of the inn was sturdy and refused to yield its secrets to his prying eyes and thumping fists. The bricks all sounded quite solid, there was nothing in the way of flattened foliage to betray a heavy footstep, and the woodpile blocked the last quarter most thoroughly.
The cobblestone path from kitchen to pump was washed clean by the snow and the rains, so any hope of ground tracks was out of the question given how long a period had elapsed since Hannah’s abduction.
Undaunted, Charles returned inside, gave Martin a brief shake of the head and pointed upstairs. He’d start from the other angle. He could, of course, have asked Benby. But he was stubborn enough to want to find it himself first. It appealed to the adventurous little boy he’d always been—hunting for villains in the woods, or wicked pirates on the roofs of Fontaine House. He’d had a fine galleon up there, in his imagination.
This, however…this was real. And Benby was gone, so he felt justified in donning his pretend-explorer personality and going upstairs to tap and r
attle medieval paneling to his heart’s content.
Half an hour later, his knuckles were showing signs of bruising.
Beginning with the fireplace, because that’s where all sensible hidden staircase builders created their magic, according to his boyhood adventure stories, Charles had systematically tapped, wiggled, poked and prodded almost every piece of wood in the small room.
He was irritated, his hand hurt and he was baffled at the invisibility of something he knew to be there.
Sitting on the bed for a moment, he paused. Then he noticed the candle on the little bureau—and remembered another childhood adventure tale.
With care, he lit it, allowing the wick to flare and then settle into a steady burn. He watched it slowly dance on the melting wax. Then, again with care, he lifted the holder and transported it to the mantelpiece.
It still performed its stately dance, uninterrupted.
He repeated his actions in various places around the room, looking for somewhere that made that annoyingly tranquil flame misbehave.
And finally he found it.
Along one wall, quite high up, was a decorative molding. Not really wide enough to be a full shelf, it might have been useful for a cup or perhaps folded socks. This was a servant’s room, after all.
There were half a dozen strong hooks attached to the curve beneath, replacing a wardrobe. They were iron, solid and could probably hold several heavy cloaks, greatcoats and hats, not to mention regular garments.
When Charles placed his candle on that tiny ledge, over the hooks—the magic happened at last. The flame shook itself and began a lissome swirl into a dance that was reminiscent of a gypsy embracing the firelight.
He watched it dip and shimmer and finally traced the source of the draft. One very small gap just above the shelf.
He put out the candle and returned it to the bureau, mentally applauding himself on his outstanding brilliance. Of course he had yet to find the mechanism to open the damn door, but he was close. He could sense it.
Another fifteen minutes of intense nose-to-the-woodwork scrutiny—and he found it. Pressure on one side of a panel combined with the movement of the hook hanging over it, and like magic the entire corner of the room swung inward.
“I’ll be damned.” He stared at the wall. The piece that formed the “door” was now a right angle, sticking into the room. And it was indeed the wall. Just as if someone had taken a saw to the solid surface and cut it out. There was plaster, lathes and timber behind, which explained why his patient tapping had born no fruit.
Peering past the opening, Charles could see a set of steps leading downward. With the triumphant smile of a hero vanquishing the villains, he moved onto the top step and began to descend.
Chapter Seventeen
Hannah peered in to her room expecting to find Charles there, since she’d observed him quietly going upstairs and knew his goal. She wished she could have gone with him, but was very aware of how many of the people downstairs had contributed to her rescue.
She owed them a smile, a hug and a thank you, and made sure they got all three, along with a beverage. She had a word with Martin and told him that Charles would cover the costs.
“Yer a wife already, aren’t yer, girlie?” He chuckled.
“Some things are universal, Martin. It seems that spending a husband’s money is one of them.” Hannah laughed back. “But in this instance, I know he’ll be happy with the decision.”
“Well, ‘ere’s another. There’s summat goin’ on about a big meal to celebrate yer weddin’. Here. Tonight.” He looked smug. “I’m sworn to keep mum on the details, like.”
She sighed. “I’d better alert Charles then.”
“Good idea.” Martin took himself off and Hannah made good her escape upstairs. It was late in the day so the customers who were left all had their needs attended to.
Time to attend to hers, thought Hannah. And first and foremost was to find her new husband. Who wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
“Charles? Where are you?” She spoke into the empty room as if waiting for him to appear.
“Right behind you, dear.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. “Dear God, don’t ever do that again.” She clasped a hand to her heart, then peered around him to see the open corner door. “Good heavens. I never knew that was there.”
“It is quite brilliantly concealed. Look here.”
She watched, fascinated, as Charles closed the door, then opened it once more with the panel and the hook. There was nothing for her to do other than insist she be allowed to try, and then stare down the steps.
“Where do they go? Outside?”
“Yes,” he answered. “But not where you’d expect. Come on. Do you want to see?”
That question elicited a snort, and within moments they were both on the stairs going down.
“It’s snug. I’m surprised Benby was able to get me down through here.” She touched the brick walls to either side of the steps.
“You’re a slight person, love. I shall have to make sure you eat more and gain some weight. At least then if you’re ever kidnapped it won’t be down a tiny set of stairs from a priest’s hole.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that statement.” She frowned as she followed him with a hand on his shoulder to keep her steady. “I’ll have to think about it.”
They turned at a landing and continued their downward trek.
“A priest’s hole.” She thought about it. “Is that possible?”
“This place is certainly old enough to have been standing in the fifteen-hundreds. And the entrance is hidden upstairs. So yes, I’d say that was an accurate assumption.”
“Well fancy that. I was sleeping in a priest’s hole and never knew it.”
“Blessed with innocent and pure dreams, I assume?”
“Until I met you, yes.”
Charles choked and stifled his laugh. “Watch your step here, it turns quite sharply.”
It did indeed, and it was almost pitch black as well. “This seems to be a very long staircase for two floors.”
“And that, my sweet, is the true secret. Did you notice that the stairs turned to stone at that last corner?”
“Yes. Oh my.” Hannah understood. “We’re underground now, aren’t we?”
“Yes. Not much further. Hold on to my jacket because the floor is a bit rough.”
She did, thankful for the contact. “Where does it end?”
“You’ll see.”
And within a few more steps she noticed a brightening of the gloom and peering around Charles, it was clear to see the outlines of a door.
“Here we are.” With a squeak and a groan the hinge moved, and they stepped outside and up an incline into the dusk.
Hannah looked around her. “Good God. It’s the stables.”
“Indeed it is. What better place to escape to? Horses at the ready, the road nearby…it really is clever when you think about it.”
She shook her head. “I’m stunned. I’d never have thought to look here.”
The door through which they’d emerged was at the rear of the stables, concealed by a lot of shrubbery. Even with the branches bare of leaves, it was pretty much impossible to see that there was any kind of structure there at all.
But someone had known.
Charles must have been thinking along the same lines. “Who would know of this, d’you think? Martin didn’t and he owns the place.”
“I was wondering that, myself. I have no idea.” She frowned. Then shivered. “Can we think about it inside? It’s getting rather chilly.”
Charles made to turn toward the inn, but she caught his arm. “Can we return by the passageway? I believe they’re planning a surprise for us and I don’t want to embarrass them by showing up in the middle of their strategy sessions.”
“Uhh…should I be nervous?” He secured the outer door and led her back along the dark tunnel.
“Only if your estate won’t cover the cost of tod
ay’s ales.”
“I believe we can still manage a dress or two for you after all’s said and done.”
“Good to know. I will need them, I fear. But from what I could learn, there is going to be a bit of celebration. A dinner, provided by some of our locals and their wives.”
“That’s really nice.” He sounded moved. “It’s a joy to be around good people.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She smiled in the darkness as they began to ascend. “Anyway, we’re supposed to come down around supper time and act surprised. Can we manage that, do you think?”
“I played Hamlet when I was at school.”
“Well there we are, then. No problems at all.”
“How about you? Can you manage to look astonished and surprised?”
“I’m a woman. We are natural actresses.”
Charles opened the door to her little room and swung her inside, shutting the door and neatly capturing her in his arms. “Not with me, I hope. Don’t ever act with me, Hannah.”
He kissed her then, roughly and thoroughly, pressing her against the paneling.
She struggled, but only to free her arms so that she could fling them around his neck and kiss him back. It was urgent, hungry, a release of need that she’d carefully held in, trying not to think about her wedding night, which was so close now.
His tongue plunged in to her mouth, teasing, tasting, learning all over again. He took her breath away then gave it back, only to reach beneath her skirts, touch her thigh and render her breathless all over again.
“Charles,” she moaned.
“I know.” His voice was rough. “But if we start this now, there will be no dinner for us tonight.” His hand crept upward to her silky folds, wet with the desire his touch always brought forth. “Choose, Hannah. For in a moment or two it will be too late.”
“Damn you, Charles Fontaine.” She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved. “Brute. You make me weak at the knees and then tell me to wait?”
He sighed, then laughed. “For what it’s worth, your discomfort is minor compared to mine.”
He glanced down and she followed his gaze. His erect cock was pressing hugely against the front of his breeches.
