by Sahara Kelly
“But whoever might be using it, didn’t come in through the church, did he?”
“We don’t know. I certainly keep the key in the Vicarage, but this is an old door with a very old lock. Could it be picked by someone with such knowledge? You tell me.” He turned to her with the question hanging over them.
She nodded. “Yes. If such a person were familiar with locks, this one might be simpler than most.”
“Could you do it?” The question popped out before he could stop it.
She blinked. “Simon, I was not a burglar. I was a listener. I gathered facts, not artifacts.”
He silently swore at himself. “I know that. Of course I know that. And it was a stupid question.” He took a breath as he led them both to the front of the church. “But I have to admit that your experiences in Europe fascinate me, Tabby. They’re part of who you are. And you fascinate me more than anything.” He reached up and softly touched her cheek.
She smiled. “I’m not angry. And in some ways, I understand the fascination for such matters. I will tell you about it someday. But not yet, all right?”
“All right.” Pleased she was speaking as if their future together was accepted, he let it drop, since Edmund and Rosaline were now close behind them. “Here we go.”
He opened the door to St. Simon’s.
As always, he found the distinctive scent comforting. A blend of wood polish, incense, candle wax and faith. It was the only way he could describe it, since it was like nothing else he’d experienced.
“I see no obvious holes, Simon,” Edmund was scanning the roof from beneath. “You were lucky, in many ways.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “But how long our luck will hold…well, I don’t know.”
Rosaline sighed. “I’d like to say the Lord will attend to his house and make matters right, but in this case we might need a little more than prayers.”
“Well, He was a carpenter.” Edmund made his way along one wall.
Rosaline gave her husband what Simon referred to as the look.
“There’s the door to the storage room.” Tabby pointed it out. “We already did a bit of wall-tapping, looking for secret passages and so forth, but nothing showed up. So I hope you have better luck.”
“We’ll be in here, up on the second level, if you find anything.” Simon opened the door to the sacristy and Tabby walked in.
Climbing the staircase to the second level, they were once more confronted with nothing they hadn’t seen before. But they did their best to make sure no stone—or in this case old box—remained unturned. Tabby cautiously ran her hands over the wall surface as Simon revealed them.
After half an hour of fruitless wall-rubbing, she declared herself done. “This isn’t going to yield good results, Simon. I hate to say it but we have failed here. There is absolutely no access to any passage, or even mouse hole, that might lead to the other side.”
Simon nodded, frustrated and worried. “I know. Time to check on the others?”
“Yes.”
Dusting her hands, she preceded him back into the church, where Edmund and Rosaline looked as if they shared Simon’s emotions.
“Anything?” asked Edmund.
“Nothing.”
“Same here,” sighed Rosaline. “This is very annoying indeed on many levels.”
Simon and Edmund shared a look. Whoever was, or had been, using that little space, could be a threat to one of their women. That was not permissible in either man’s book.
“Simon?”
It was Letitia’s voice calling from the front door, echoing around the arched ceiling and the columns like the song of a bird.
“On our way out,” he called back.
“Good. Hecate’s found something.”
It was sufficient to send all four hurrying up the nave and out into the sunshine.
*~~*~~*
The air around Letitia, James and Hecate fairly vibrated with excitement.
Or perhaps that was Tabby’s heartbeat…whatever it was, she could sense that something important was about to occur.
“She did it,” said Letitia, almost jumping up and down. “She found it. I can scarcely believe it.”
“It’s quite astounding,” agreed James FitzArden. “Completely unexpected.”
While they exclaimed, Tabby took measure of the tall gentleman next to Letitia. She knew he was an old family friend of Rosaline’s, and that he had purchased land near Ridlington Chase. He was building himself something of a country mansion, by all accounts. And he was clearly enamored of Letitia.
Whether she returned his regard or not, was hard to tell. But it was his gaze that fell on her more often than it probably should, and his hand was there ready to assist her over the rough sod as they all walked to the wall at the back of the church.
He seemed pleasant. Tabby decided it would be a good match, given the warmth in his disposition toward Letitia. And he was attractive, even with the little touches of grey at the temples. It made him distinguished.
She redirected her thoughts to the excitement of the moment.
Hecate took the lead, moving close to the old stones that comprised the walls of the two protrusions—the sacristy and the storage room.
“These walls are old, Simon.” His sister addressed him with an air of confidence. “I can feel the age, the centuries…they were part of the original church, I would imagine. This entire back wall was perhaps the first part of the building and everything grew from this spot.”
“That sounds eminently reasonable,” nodded Simon, while murmurs of agreement from the others endorsed his opinion.
“So, I sat and looked at these walls for a little while,” Hecate continued. “And I thank you all for trusting me in this because you know I cannot explain the odd things that I feel, or I see.” Her blue eyes gleamed for a moment or two…perhaps with unshed tears. “I am blessed to have you as my family.” She swallowed. “Enough of that. Come nearer and perhaps I can show you what I have found.”
Obediently, they circled Hecate as she stood next to the wall. “If you look very closely, and I mean very closely, you might see that there is a break in the mortar joining these stones.” She lifted a hand and let her finger trace the line, following it from one side of the wall, about five feet or so off the ground, across for another few feet, and then back down to the roots of the large azalea nestling in the shelter of the stones.
“Good God, it’s a doorway?” Edmund’s strong eyebrows rose dramatically as he absorbed Hecate’s discovery.
“I believe so, yes.” She let a little grin peep through her facade of elegant mystery. “I thought I’d wait for all of you before trying to open it.”
“How…I don’t see…” Tabby was close, examining every inch of the seam.
“Simon, can you move those branches out of the way please?” Hecate pointed to a portion of the azalea.
“I think so.” He manhandled the thick stems backward, trying not to break too many of them.
“Perfect.” Hecate nodded. “Thank you.” She turned her back to them all and placed both hands on the wall. “Now. Let me see how close I am.”
Silence fell as they all waited, holding their breath and watching the youngest amongst them slowly dust her palms over the ancient stones.
Tabby felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. There was something elemental, primeval perhaps, about the scene. As if a fairy tale were coming to life in front of her and a dragon might appear, snorting steam, at any moment.
Birds sang, and the breeze rustled through the trees around St. Simon’s, but other than that, there was no sound at all.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Simon’s hand gripped hers. A quick sideways glance showed her that he was as focused on Hecate as everyone else. And from the strength of his hold, he was equally affected.
“Aha.”
The sound rippled through everyone as Hecate stilled, reached her right hand upward just above her head, and her left hand out to her side.<
br />
And pressed.
With an odd grinding click, a section of the wall moved inward, exposing a small dark opening…and a tiny set of stairs leading upward.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” whispered James.
“Astounding,” said Rosaline, her eyes wide.
“Drat you, Hecate. Stealing all the thunder again.” Letitia rushed to her sister and hugged her.
“I don’t know how she does this kind of thing.” Simon was smiling from ear to ear. “But she does. And this time it’s an absolute blessing.”
Hecate stepped back, away from the opening, and dropped a tiny curtsey. “Why thank you, kind people.” She rose again. “Now would somebody bloody well get in there and find out what’s going on?”
Chapter Fourteen
To the obvious frustration of all the men, the ladies got the opportunity to go up the stairs first, for the simple reason that they were smaller.
Tabby argued for, and won, the right to lead the way, in spite of her bandaged arm. Her experience in situations that might be risky, if not dangerous, stood her in good stead, and she gripped a sturdy stick in her good hand.
Most displeased, Simon found himself forced to accept the logic, and wait at the bottom with Edmund and James, craning their necks to catch a sound from the women. Rosaline stood a little behind him, understanding that there was more at stake than just herself, and wisely not even considering the little adventure.
“It’s quite clear,” called Tabby.
“We’re up,” echoed Letitia.
Simon’s breath left his lungs in a great whoosh. “I’m coming up.” He shouldered past Edmund, admonishing him to stay with his wife, and bent as low as he could to begin squeezing his way up the stairs.
He could see they were stone, and cleverly built right into the wall construction. He had no idea that this wall was so thick, but now he could see why.
Emerging from the last step, covered in dust from the walls, he found Tabby and Hecate looking about them with interest, while Letitia had found a shelf with a couple of books and was trying to use her handkerchief to clean the dust off them.
The ladies were standing up straight. He tried and narrowly avoided a beam. There was little to no head room.
“It’s not the same as the second level to the sacristy,” observed Tabby. “Besides the overly thick walls, which you can see if you go to the window, there’s a lower ceiling and I think the overall space is smaller, too.”
Simon nodded, but all his attention was on the one or two items of clothing—clearly recent—that were in one corner. “Did you see these?”
“Yes,” answered Tabby, walking to his side. “A man’s shirt. Average size. Of good quality too. Not a farmer’s garment or some kind of wandering tramp or gypsy. This does not belong to the kind of person who might be expected to seek shelter in a place like this.”
She bent to the floor and picked up a piece of fabric. “And a cravat. Which bears out my theory.”
“Indeed it does.” Simon endorsed her opinion. “Let me have a look at that.”
Tabby handed it over, watching as he carefully examined the seams, the stitching and then took it to the little window to hold it up in the light. Then he sniffed it, puzzling her.
“This is from Tanly’s Haberdashery. I recognize the distinct stitching. Most expensive, much prized amongst the Ton, and not easily come by.”
“Really.” She turned that over in her mind.
“In addition, the man uses either a scented soap or a gentlemen’s perfume stick. I can definitely smell sandalwood.”
Tabby frowned as she walked over to him and lifted the cravat to her nose. “I can smell something, yes. Not sure what it is, though.”
Simon gave her a quick smile. “Hecate may have all kinds of gifts, but I got the nose. My sense of smell has always been a lot stronger than the rest of the family. Which, upon consideration, was more of a burden than a blessing sometimes.”
She chuckled. “I can well understand that.”
James grunted as he managed the stairs, and promptly cracked his head on a beam.
“Uh, mind your head,” quipped Simon.
James rolled his eyes, but then noticed the cravat. “Interesting. Not a local then?”
“No. This is from Tanly’s.” Simon handed it over.
“Indeed. Yes.” James looked up at them. “This narrows the field. Tanly’s has an exclusive customer list, and it’s quite small.”
“Would De Pontcarré have been on it?” queried Tabby. “What he was wearing when he was killed did not seem to fit with the image of a Bond Street Beau.”
“I strongly doubt it,” James looked at the neckcloth once more. “Tanly’s is not known for opening its doors to those without a lineage that goes back to the Tudors or thereabouts. The likelihood of his being a Tanly’s client? Odds are that he is not.” He frowned. “He might have been gifted with one, but would I give one of mine away? Not for a thousand pounds.”
Letitia joined them. “And that was your How to Impress the Assembled Company with my Aristocratic Ranking speech, was it?”
“Brat.” James grinned at her. “Merely using my vast storehouse of knowledge to assist in the current endeavor.”
“Of course.” She snorted. “Simon, those books are quite old. They could even be valuable. Much of the text has faded, but we should take them down and see how best to handle them.”
“I defer to you on that, sister.” Simon nodded. “If they’ll bring a few pounds, the church will be eternally grateful.”
“I wonder what this room was used for,” mused Tabby.
“I can tell you.” Hecate stood alone, away from the others, caught by a sharp beam of light cutting through the dust motes they had disturbed.
It was Simon’s turn to feel goosebumps. Hecate had what he thought of as “that look” about her. The one that said something unexpected was coming.
“There has been death here, anger, blood—and fear. Overwhelming fear.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And there has been faith too.” She moved out of the light, reducing the drama of the moment. “I believe this to be a priest’s hole. And a well-used one.”
Simon tried to absorb that statement. “Here? In St. Simon’s? A Protestant church?”
Tabby touched his arm. “It might not always have been protestant, Simon. Could it not have been Catholic back in the fifteen hundreds?”
“And it’s not out of the question that it was used solely for members of the clergy. Anyone wishing to escape notice—or even request sanctuary, if it came to that—could have sheltered here.” Letitia added her mite.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but the dust is proving irritating and my neck hurts from bending. Since there is no treasure, or dead body up here to be of interest, I’m going to rejoin Edmund and Rosaline in the sunshine.” James departed and sneezed loudly on the way out.”
Letitia followed him on a chorus of “God Bless You’s”.
Simon looked at Tabby and Hecate. “Are we concluded here? For the time being, at least?”
They both nodded. “I cannot think of anything more we can do. An empty room doesn’t require a lot of investigation at this point.”
“I might like to come back and see if there are any more secrets hidden here,” said Hecate, gazing around her. “It is a richly colored room.”
Simon, who could see no colors at all other than wood walls, floor and ceiling, along with more than the usual amount of dust, let the comment pass and ushered the ladies down the stairs, out into the sunlight once more.
*~~*~~*
“Neither piece of clothing was his.” Edmund made the announcement over a late lunch. “I measured the arm length of the shirt, which was longer, and the cravat? He would have smothered himself with it. The late M. De Pontcarré was a man of short stature who wore quietly dull clothing. Most definitely not from an exclusive tailor or haberdasher.” He finished off his rhubarb tart. “He will be leaving us tomorrow, by the way
. James is going to London and has kindly arranged for an extra carriage to transport the—er—mortal remains to those authorities who have expressed an interest.”
Tabby received a brief nod, to which she dipped her head in acknowledgment.
“Well, that doesn’t really leave us anywhere useful, does it?” sighed Simon.
“On the contrary.” Tabby put down her spoon. “We know that De Pontcarré wasn’t the only man in the neighborhood recently. Mr. Fancy Cravat has been making himself at home in St. Simon’s, and may still be in the area. Why leave a good shirt and what is apparently a prized neckcloth there, if you’re not planning on returning?”
Her observation elicited an immediate silence from everyone else at the table.
“Damn.” Simon leaned back in his chair. “Now what? And what if word of this gets out? Do I continue to go about church business as usual? Do I hold services? Would I be running the risk of putting our parishioners in danger?”
“What, all four of ‘em?” teased Edmund.
“Not amusing,” muttered Simon casting a withering glare at his brother.
Edmund chuckled. “I think we must act normally, Simon. Our intruder is not in that room, nor do we have any evidence that we ourselves are in danger. Could it be that he was here to dispose of De Pontcarré and has now left upon completion of that task?”
“It’s a theory,” nodded James. “A plausible one.”
“In which case, he’ll have either left or is about to leave.” Rosaline added her thoughts.
“One would hope so, indeed.” Letitia sighed. “I would like things to settle down a little.”
“As would we all.” Hecate agreed. “And there is a wedding to plan.”
Five heads swiveled to stare at Tabby and Simon.
“Er…”
“Well?” Edmund raised an eyebrow.
Tabby, drawing on her diplomatic experience, smiled. “We have yet to work out the details, Edmund. I’m afraid with all that’s going on in addition to my arm, not to mention my work on the church accounts, and Simon’s parish duties, the matter of any wedding arrangements hasn’t even come up in the conversation.”
