Death in the Valley of Shadows (29 page)

“My God,” he said, beneath his breath, and stood away from it, regarding it in awe.

It was of a woman, her face closed and shuttered, her expression secretive. Her hair, what little he could see of it beneath a Tudor headdress, was dark, dark as the eyes which seemed to regard the Apothecary with a knowing look. Yet knowing was perhaps the wrong word. It was a look that unconsciously shared a secret, as if he was aware of the darkest workings of her mind, while she, it was obvious to John at least, knew everything in the world that there was to know about him. By the very fact that he had come to look at her portrait, he felt himself drawn into a secret that he could not explain.

In the far corner of the portrait crouched a monkey, its little face sad and wizened. Yet when the Apothecary stared into its features he saw that it had a look of the woman about it. He gazed and gazed, realising that Millicent had come to join him and was standing at his side.

“That’s a portrait of a cousin of ours, all of the family I mean.”

“Oh yes?” said John, continuing to stare.

“Yes. Lucinda, Lady Tewkesbury, her name is. They say that she betrayed her husband.”

“Oh yes?” John repeated, suddenly very interested.

“Oh yes indeed. He was one of old blood - his ancestors came over with William the Conqueror - and she had no titled blood at all. Yet he fell madly in love with her and after his second wife died took this one for third. She gave birth to one son, the son who was our common ancestor, but nobody could be sure that the boy was his.”

“Goon.”

“Well, she had fallen in love in her turn.”

“With whom?”

“With Roger de Courtenay, a noble from the North of England who came visiting.”

John turned to look at her and saw that her little fingers were working the cuff of her sleeve.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, I don’t know that much. All I’m aware of is that she and Roger disappeared one night…”

“What, literally?”

“Yes. One moment they were here, probably in the Long Gallery. The next they were gone. Well, that’s what we are told anyway.”

“But what happened?” asked the Apothecary, suddenly irritated to have got so far and no further.

“I truly don’t know.”

He leant forward, as if being closer to the portrait would give him the answer, and there was a sudden whirring sound. John turned just in time to see Miss Millicent’s nervous eyes, then suddenly hurtled forward through the panelling into a strange, black room that lay beyond. For second time in that twenty-four hours, the Apothecary found himself alone in the darkness.

Chapter Eighteen

T
his time, however, he was wide awake, and as he got used to the light realised that he was in a large room, so large that it was not easy to see the far comers. From somewhere - at present he had no idea where - a great deal of light was being let in. But to find its source was not his top priority. Instead John turned and beat loudly on the panelling, shouting at the top of his voice.

“Millicent, Millicent, are you there? Let me out, there’s a good girl.”

He strained his ears but there was no answering sound, in fact no sound at all except for a faint scuffling. “Oh ‘zounds and ‘zoonters and damnation,” he said aloud. “What the devil’s happened to her?”

There were two possible solutions, neither of which appealed to him. One was that she was lying unconscious, the other that she had taken to her heels and fled to wherever Jocasta and Samuel were at that particular moment. Both of which involved time.

He turned back to the panelling and set up a mighty pounding which got something in the room behind him jumping. Cursing wrathfully, the Apothecary gave up and decided that the best thing he could do was get out of his present situation as quickly as possible. This meant starting with a proper examination of the place in which he found himself.

It was a very large room, partially furnished with decaying bits, long since left to moulder into obscurity. The source of light was, he discovered, a chimney breast, a good-sized opening at the top allowing daylight in - and more. Birds’ nests lay in the hearth, together with twigs and other detritus which had fallen down the chimney over the years. But just as he was going to pass the fireplace by something made him pause and come back to it. Recently, within the last month or so, somebody had lit a fire in part of it. The smell, though faint, was still in the air. Thoroughly intrigued, the Apothecary conducted a hasty search of the room, then made for the door, which opened at once to his touch.

He was standing in a corridor which ran to both right and left, albeit narrow and carved from stone. Never having had a good sense of direction the Apothecary stood for several minutes, wondering which way to go, and eventually decided on left. But after a few moments of making his way, he turned back. Neither right nor left were going to be any good until he found some sort of light to guide him.

Back in the room there was very little of use; a drinking cup, a rotting cushion, a piece of a rug being about the only things. Then, as he passed the mantelpiece, instinctively he searched once more. And there, tucked in amongst the cobwebs and invisible to the naked eye, was a small piece of candle, about ten minutes’ burning time in all.

He went down the corridor as far as he could, then struck a tinder and tried to ignite the thing. All the time he was praying that it would work and eventually, after what seemed like hours of struggling, a measly flame caught and lit the way. John marched on to the left, knowing that he had little light left to him. And then he heard it. Very faintly, somewhere a dog was barking.

He started to follow the sound, though he had no choice but to do so, praying that he would reach the end of the corridor before the flame went out. Meanwhile, the barking was getting louder and louder until, at last, he reached the top of some rough hewn steps. As carefully as he could, John made his way down, listening for the sound of the dog. It was only a fraction away from him he could tell, yet where was the damnable thing? Then as suddenly as if it had been there all along, which, of course, it had except that he had been unaware of it, light flooded in. The candle blew out as with one last heave John pushed at the door which swung back with a groan. He had reached civilisation once more.

* * *

Twenty minutes later he was seated in the grandeur of the big salon, imbibing brandy with his tea to help him recover from the shock. Poor Millicent had fainted clean away at his disappearance, and though now conscious was only able to take a little boiled water to clear her head. Samuel, who had been on the point of departing, had stayed on to help with the search.

“The extraordinary thing is, John, that none of us could find the wretched mechanism, try as we would. Nor could we hear you. It had apparently gone dead as the tomb.”

Warmed by the brandy, cheered by their genuine relief that he had got out safely, John asked a question.

“Do you mean to say that that is the first you have known about the concealed place in the Long Gallery?”

Jocasta spoke. “Oh yes. Completely and utterly. The passage I wanted to show you runs off the Great Hall. It is a series of corridors, two of which lead out, the others are dead ends. It was used at one time to hide the priests during religious persecution. We call it the Valley of Shadows. I don’t know why, really.”

“Then there is more than one secret passage in this house?”

“There are probably half a dozen if we could but find them all. Anyway, when you have gathered your strength, we’ll go and look for that other one. See if we can discover it.”

John nodded, turning over in his mind the fact that someone had lit a fire in that hidden grate. “Millicent was telling me a story about the woman under whose picture I vanished. Something about her disappearing with her lover there.”

Jocasta gave another smile of sadness. “Poor Millicent, if she can get anything confused she will. Lucinda Tewkesbury died, you know.”

“Yes, I’m sure she did. But what happened to her in the years between?”

“She ran off with Roger de Courtenay but her husband gave chase and killed him. Then he took her back, meek as you please. Nine months later she presented him with a son.”

“I see. And which one was the child’s father?”

“Nobody knows for sure. In fact I don’t suppose Lucinda was certain either.” Jocasta laughed and looked at Samuel, who coloured and stared rapidly away. “Well, if you’re ready, Mr. Rawlings. Shall we go and see what Lucinda has to say to us now?”

“Certainly. Your turn to be locked in, Sam.”

But he wasn’t feeling in any mood for laughing as he entered the Long Gallery for the second time that afternoon and once again stood beneath the portrait.

“I was just here when it happened,” he said.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing really. Just staring at your ancestor, wishing she could speak and tell me her secrets.”

This said, John pressed the place where he had been leaning, or rather where he thought the place to be. But this time there was no click, nor did the panel swing away. In fact nothing happened at all. Faintly embarrassed, John tried again. Once more, nothing happened.

“Here, let me try,” said Samuel, and came over and stood where the Apothecary had just done. He leant forward and pressed but nothing happened. He turned to John. “Are you sure you were here?”

“Of course I was there. Ask Millicent.”

“Oh no,” said Jocasta rapidly. “She really is too poorly. Let her rest, do.”

John vaguely wondered if the sad little woman was heading for the beginning of the end of her courses, but did not allow himself to dwell on the matter. Far more pressing was the discovery of the button that would release the panel. Yet try as he would the mechanism remained concealed and eventually he and Samuel were forced to turn away, defeated.

“Well,” said Jocasta, “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s perfectly true,” replied John. “How else could I have got outside?”

“Well, I believe you,” answered Samuel stoutly, instantly restoring himself in his friend’s affections.

“Good chap.”

And there was a moment’s heavy silence before Jocasta said brightly, “Would you like to see the Valley of Shadows?”

“Yes, very much,” answered John, but his brain was heavy with the mystery of the Long Gallery and what it was that was precluding him from finding the mechanism.

Yet, despite this, he was still overwhelmed by the Valley of Shadows. It was so much bigger than he had thought, almost as if another house existed beside the big one. Entranced, John watched as Jocasta pressed the middle of a piece of Tudor panelling and saw the lower panel creak back, then was forced to bend double in order to gain entry. This time, in order to be on the safe side, he allowed Jocasta the privilege of going first.

A maze of corridors, lit by her candletree, stretched before him on either side. Though all quite narrow he saw that they included a staircase which, no doubt, went down to the cellar.

“Amazing,” said Samuel.

“Very useful,” Jocasta answered pointedly, “for those having to hide in a hurry. Or for gentlemen serving tea and baccy, if you know what I mean.” She turned to John. “Do you wish to see more or shall we save it for another day?”

“I think, if you don’t mind, that I’ll call an end to it. I’ve a mind to have one more go at the upstairs cipher before I take my leave.”

“Certainly. I feel I can hardly refuse you.”

Laughing they trooped out of the cavern and back into the Great Hall, though all the time John had the uneasy feeling that they were being observed. However, despite various covert attempts at looking round, he could see nothing.

The portrait stood, as enigmatic as ever, its message as strong and as powerful as when he had first seen it. But again the panel resisted any attempt at being opened, so much so that John began to believe that he had not experienced what he knew perfectly well had happened. This time, though, he made light of it.

“Oh well, the lady is definitely annoyed with me. So, if you will forgive, Madam, I really think I must take my leave.”

He turned to Samuel, fully expecting him to comply, and was astonished to see that his friend was frowning.

“Samuel?”

“I believe old chap, if it’s all the same to you, that I’ll follow on later. Mrs. Rayner has promised to show me some miniatures which I would rather like to see.”

Very surprised, the Apothecary found himself bowing and making his way out on his own. But he was glad that there was still sufficient daylight to give him a clear run through the woods before the shadows grew even longer.

Back at Scottlea Park there was such an air of tranquillity that John immediately became suspicious. It seemed to him that everything was perfection. His daughter had just been fed and was now ready to play with him; his wife, whose hair was being dressed by a maid, blew him kisses; Louis winked his eye and offered him a glass of claret. And over all triumphed Serafina, gliding round the house, as tall and elegant as ever. Everything was set for a perfect evening and so it turned out to be.

Not one word was spoken in complaint; the food was divine; and afterwards the others lay back against cushions and listened to Serafina effortlessly play Scarlatti at his most demanding.