With This Ring

by Amanda Quick

  He took her arm to lead her back into the ballroom. “We shall use the hidden passageway that you discovered the last time you were there.”

  Which opened straight into the dreadful underground chamber, Beatrice thought. “Excellent notion. And Elf?”

  “We must leave him behind again this evening. During the day most people can see that he is only a very large hound. But at night he is too easily mistaken for a wolf.”

  Beatrice glanced at him. “Especially after the recent reports in the papers of a great slavering beast seen prowling the streets of London at night.”

  “Indeed.” Leo inclined his head politely to a couple who had just emerged from the ballroom. “Anyone who chanced to see us with Elf would likely send up the alarm. And that includes hackney coachmen who are usually well into their gin by ten o’clock on a damp evening such as this.”

  THEY SLIPPED AWAY from the ball shortly after midnight. Beatrice considered taking a glass or two of champagne first to fortify herself for another experience of Trull’s underground chamber. In the end, she resisted.

  This time she would have Leo with her, she reminded herself as a footman assisted her into her cloak. If anyone could fend off the unsettling aura of that room, he could.

  “Ready?” Leo held out his arm to take her down the front steps of the mansion. There was an unmistakable shimmer of dark anticipation in the air around him.

  He was looking forward to the night’s adventure, she thought as she put her arm into his. The Earl of Monkcrest was readying himself for the hunt.

  He handed her up into the carriage and followed her into the cab. His eyes met hers as he settled onto the seat across from her. She thought he was going to outline more details of the plan for the night’s venture.

  He reached into the pocket of his greatcoat instead.

  “There is something I wish to give you,” he said quietly.

  “You have a gift for me?” Surprise temporarily doused the cold sparks of unease that flickered along her spine. “Leo, that is very kind of you, but I have nothing for you.”

  “On the contrary.” He handed her a small engraved box fashioned of highly polished dark wood. “You have given me many things in the short time we have known each other. All of them quite valuable.”

  “But, my lord—” She broke off as he took her hand and placed the box on her palm. She stared at the elaborate inlay work. “It is quite lovely. And rather old.”

  “That which is inside is older. Open the box, Beatrice.”

  She looked up and saw that he was watching her with a curious intensity. The box was very warm in her hand. Slowly she unlatched the lid and raised it.

  A ring lay inside, a large, heavily worked band of gold crowned with a huge bloodred ruby. The great stone was surrounded by an intricate array of diamonds. The ruby glowed with an inner light that compelled the eye.

  The box had felt warm in her hand. The ring nearly scorched her skin.

  “You are right, my lord,” she whispered. “It is, indeed, very old. I cannot possibly accept it.”

  He went very still. It seemed to Beatrice that he drew himself deeper into the shadows.

  “I realize that it is not in the modern style.” There was an icy, remote quality in his voice that had not been there a moment earlier.

  Beatrice was startled. “It is not that, my lord. The ring is absolutely magnificent, as I’m sure you’re well aware. But it is not a gift to be given lightly to a friend or even to a … a lover. Anyone can tell that it is a thing of power. One can feel the past in a ring such as this.”

  The coldness seeped out of his eyes. Beatrice watched, uncomprehending, as the controlled fire returned.

  “I knew that you would understand,” he said with soft satisfaction. “The ring is yours now, Beatrice. I have given it to you. You must keep it.”

  Her fingers closed around the heavy object. “What do you mean?”

  He looked away from her, out into the night. “I don’t want it back. Whatever happens between us, it is yours. If we do not discover the Forbidden Rings of Aphrodite, you may sell it. The proceeds would replace Arabella’s lost inheritance many times over.”

  Beatrice tightened her hand around the ring. “I would never sell it.”

  She was stunned by her own fierce determination. But she meant every word, she realized. She would never let go of Leo’s ring. She would hold it close to her heart until her dying day, come what may.

  The inflexible line of Leo’s jaw relaxed slightly. He turned to meet her eyes and she saw that he was amused by her vehemence. “I am pleased to hear that. Now, let us go over our plans.”

  THE HACKNEY HALTED only briefly at the town house, just long enough for Beatrice to dash upstairs to change into her trousers and shirt.

  Alone in her room, she reached into the folds of her evening cloak to remove the ring box that she had put there earlier. It was only then that she discovered that the box was not the only thing inside the pocket.

  Sometime during the course of the evening someone had dropped a neatly folded note into the silk lining. Beatrice pulled it out and slowly opened it. The message was short and pointed.

  This is your last warning, Mrs. York. Stay out of this affair, else all of London will learn your identity. The game you are playing is not worth the candle. In the end you will have nothing left to show for your efforts. Not the Rings, not your career as an authoress, and, most assuredly, not the Mad Monk.

  Beatrice crumpled the note. For a moment she could not seem to marshal her thoughts in any logical order. When she had her wits about her again, one thing was blindingly clear. She must not tell Leo about the warning until after the visit to Trull’s Museum.

  Knowing that the killer was still very near and not safely out of Town, as he had assumed, would very likely cause him to alter his plans. He would refuse to take her with him that night.

  She had a swirling dread of what lay ahead, but one thing was certain. She could not allow Leo to go to Trull’s alone.

  She went to her jewelry box and took out the plain gold chain that had belonged to her grandmother. She looped it through Leo’s ring and hung it around her throat.

  The bloodred ruby disappeared beneath her shirt. She could feel the heat of it against her breast.

  She touched it as if it were a talisman. Then she turned and went downstairs to join Leo in the coach.

  Chapter 19

  The ancient stone staircase descended into unutterable darkness. Something unwholesome shifted in the shadows at the foot of the steps.

  FROM CHAPTER NINETEEN OF The Ruin BY MRS. AMELIA YORK

  “I think this is the right alley,” Beatrice said.

  She surveyed the narrow lane between the two darkened buildings. The mist moved within it, alternately concealing and revealing the slimy paving stones. A sentence from The Castle of Shadows flashed through her mind. Fog slithered in the depths, a great ghostly serpent coiling endlessly upon itself while it awaited prey.

  Stop it at once, she thought. This was no novel. This was real. There was certainly no need to embellish the situation with her imagination. It was bad enough as it was.

  Nevertheless, she would have given a great deal not to have to go into that dark alley.

  In the weak glow of the small lantern Leo carried, the lane looked far more ominous than it had on the afternoon she and Saltmarsh had stumbled into it. She reminded herself that on that occasion she had viewed it as a welcome escape from the even smaller and more oppressive hidden passageway that led to the underground chamber. Everything was relative.

  “This is where you and Saltmarsh emerged.” Leo glanced across the street to the hulking shape of Trull’s Museum. “I remember it all too well.”

  Beatrice breathed deeply and tried to quash the unpleasant, weightless sensation in the pit of her stomach. She refused to dwell on the note that she had found in her cloak.

  This had to be done, she thought. Leo was right. Trull’s was an important pi
ece of the puzzle. It was also the only piece left that had not been thoroughly explored.

  “The entrance to the concealed passage is at the back of this alley behind a wooden door. There is a grille in the door to allow air to pass through into the corridor. The door was barred from the inside but the bolt had rusted through. Mr. Saltmarsh and I broke it when we dislodged it.”

  “Then with any luck the door should still be unlocked. If someone has replaced the bolt, we may have to find another way into Trull’s. A window, perhaps, although I would prefer not to have to break one. It might draw attention.”

  “The only other person who knew about the passageway was Mr. Saltmarsh. Why would he take it upon himself to replace the broken bolt?”

  “Who knows? We cannot be certain yet what role he has played in this affair.” Leo moved into the alley. “Stay close to me.”

  She refrained from telling him that she had no intention of doing anything else.

  The lantern light flickered and flared, a weak beacon against the dark mist. The soles of Beatrice’s half-boots skidded on a greasy paving stone. She glanced down as she caught her balance and saw a patch of oily liquid. She shuddered and decided not to take a closer look.

  A few steps farther she heard a soft rustling sound. “Leo?”

  “A cat, most likely,” he said casually. “Perhaps a rat.”

  “Yes, of course.” Beatrice bit down firmly on her lower lip. What was wrong with her nerves tonight? she wondered. There were always rats in alleys. For that matter, she and Saltmarsh had surprised a couple of large specimens inside the concealed passageway the other day. They had been nasty-looking, but they had not been a threat. The creatures had fled from the light of the waning candle.

  Leo paused when the lantern glow revealed a heavily timbered door. “This is the entrance, I assume?”

  Beatrice studied the rotted wood. “Yes. There is a flight of stone steps just inside.”

  “Hold the lantern while I get this open.”

  She took the light and watched as Leo set to work. He pried at the old door with steady pressure until it opened with a metallic groan on ancient iron hinges. The top of the stone staircase appeared in the yellow glow of the lantern. It descended into deep darkness.

  Leo studied the ancient stone steps for a moment. Then he looked at Beatrice. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  She stared down into the pit, wishing her stomach would stop roiling. “Why do you say that?”

  “There are many who would have emerged from that passageway in a state of hysteria.”

  She realized he was paying her a compliment. There was no need to tell him that for her the concealed passage had been a stroll in the park compared to the dreadful atmosphere in the underground chamber. Perhaps it would not be so terrible in that room tonight, she thought. She would have Leo at her side.

  “It was not all that bad,” she said. “You must remember that the last time I used the passage, I viewed it as an escape route. And I was not alone.”

  Leo’s eyes narrowed in the amber light. “You do not need to remind me that Saltmarsh was with you.” He took the lantern from her. “Come. Let’s get the thing done.”

  She followed him down the stone steps into the cramped corridor, where, at least, it was warmer. The fog could not penetrate the ancient stone hallway.

  “We must be beneath the street now.” Leo held the lantern aloft and gazed around with interest. “From the nature of the construction, I would say that this passage must be several hundred years old.”

  “I do not think anyone had used it in a very long time until Mr. Saltmarsh and I entered it the other day. The dust and dirt on the floor appeared quite undisturbed.”

  “You said you removed a large grate of some kind in the wall?”

  She peered down the length of the passage. “Up ahead on the left.”

  They walked through the accumulated debris of the ages, following the twists and turns of the stone corridor. Leo had to stoop slightly to keep from striking his head on the low ceiling.

  Twice Beatrice heard the rustle of startled rats, but the sound did not bother her quite so much this time as it had in the alley. She had her nerves in hand. Barely.

  She followed Leo around another turn and nearly collided with him.

  “What is it?” She was annoyed at the breathless quality of her own voice. Then she saw the large square of opaque shadow on the wall. “There it is. That’s the entrance. It opens straight into the storage chamber.”

  “I see it.” Leo went forward quickly. He came to a halt in front of the opening and lifted the lantern to study the darkened chamber on the other side of the wall. “Interesting.”

  Beatrice moved to stand beside him. At the sight of the interior of the storage room, a fresh wave of unease washed over her. She bit back the warning that sprang to her lips. There was no call to play Cassandra. She could not even describe what it was about this room that disturbed her so deeply.

  “I’ll go first.” Leo reached through the opening to set the lantern down on the high cabinet.

  Beatrice watched him swing first one leg and then the other over the edge of the opening. A few seconds later he was crouched on top of the cabinet. It shuddered slightly beneath his weight. She heard an ominous creak.

  “Wait until I get down to the floor before you come through,” Leo said. “I’m not sure this cabinet will hold both of us.”

  He flattened his palm on the wooden surface, braced himself, and then jumped down from his precarious perch. He turned to watch her come through the opening.

  Suppressing the great reluctance that threatened to consume her, Beatrice climbed out onto the cabinet. Leo reached up to lift her down to the floor.

  The eerie atmosphere had not altered. It struck her in noxious invisible waves. But knowing that she was not trapped here the way she had been the last time made it easier to steel herself against it.

  She turned slowly on her heel, aware that the sensations emanated from several distinct sources in the room. Some places in the chamber seemed darker than others. One case in particular, a gilded monstrosity secured with a heavy chunk of metal, pulsed with especially strong vibrations.

  Leo was clearly untroubled by any sense of atmosphere. He wandered over to a glass-topped case and gazed at the array of small figures that rested inside.

  “Fascinating.” he murmured.

  “What is it?”

  “Some Egyptian tomb relics. Genuine, I believe.” He walked to another cabinet and studied the old volumes inside. “So this is where he kept the real collection.”

  “Who? Trull?”

  Leo examined a row of grim-faced masks. “I told you that I had paid one or two visits to this establishment in the past and had found nothing but fakes and frauds in the rooms upstairs.”

  “But the relics in this chamber are real, you say?”

  “So it appears. If the Rings or the statue are anywhere in this museum, I expect we shall find them here in this chamber.”

  “I hope you are right.”

  He reached out to run a hand across the curved surface of an ancient vessel. “It’s a pity that we do not have more time to spend here tonight.”

  “Frankly, I see nothing at all that interests me,” Beatrice said. “Let us get on with our task. We do not have all evening, you know.”

  Leo glanced at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

  He frowned. “You’re tense.”

  “I would like to have done with this affair.” She took a few steps toward the display case he had examined a moment earlier, glanced uneasily at the books inside, and then looked quickly away. There was something distinctly wrong with the volumes, although she could not have said what it was that bothered her. “Where shall we start?”

  Leo turned slowly to study the chamber. “If the statue is here, it will occupy one of the larger cabinets. We may as well begin on that side of the room and work our way aro
und to the opening in the wall.”

  He walked to the nearest of the big cabinets, removed a slender needle from his collection of picklocks, and went to work. Beatrice could not help but admire his skill.

  “You really are very good at this sort of thing,” she said. “It is fortunate for the ton that you did not choose to take up a career as a jewel thief.”

  “My grandfather always said that the world was an uncertain place and that a man must know more than one way to make a living. Ah. Here we go.”

  Leo eased the cabinet door open. The lantern light fell on several shelves laden with a number of large, intricately worked vases. “Amazing.”

  “What are they?”

  Leo examined the pictures inscribed on the vases. “If I am not mistaken, they are artifacts that were once used by a small cult of Romans who worshiped certain gods associated with the underworld. According to my studies, the members of the cult believed that they could communicate with the shades of dead relatives through the rituals prescribed by their leader.”

  It occurred to Beatrice that Leo could very likely spend several hours exploring the contents of each cabinet. She had to keep him moving. “I see no sign of any Aphrodite in there. Nor any Rings. Open the next cabinet.”

  Leo closed the doors with obvious reluctance and went to open the next case.

  Under Beatrice’s urgings, he worked his way quickly around the chamber. One lock after another fell before the onslaught of his picklock. But the contents of the cases revealed no statues of the goddess nor any Rings.

  “We may have wasted our time.” Leo tackled the lock on the massive cabinet beneath the entrance to the secret passage. “If this venture comes to naught, the only course of action left is to locate the new proprietor of this place and see if he has anything useful to tell us.”

  There was a distinct click as the lock gave way. Leo dropped the picklock into the pocket of his greatcoat and opened the cabinet doors.

  The lantern light glinted on a figure fashioned from a strange green substance that gleamed with a metallic sheen.