Secrets of an Accidental Duchess (37 page)

“That’s probably because he didn’t know,” she pointed out.

That only seemed to confuse the man. He gave a feeble nod.

She passed him and went downstairs, hearing the dull thud of his feet behind her, and approached the hotelier to ask for the use of a carriage. Within a quarter of an hour, they were in a hackney coach on their way to Lord Fenwicke’s house—a landmark everyone in Manchester seemed to know the location of.

The driver stopped on the darkened road—she’d instructed him to let her out a good distance from the
house. When he came around to help her out, she frowned at a flickering light in the road behind them as Mr. Peebles descended from the servant’s seat to stand beside her. “What is that?”

“We passed a carriage on the side of the road a ways back, ma’am.” the driver said.

It was likely Max’s carriage. She nodded, then looked ahead. “How far is Lord Fenwicke’s house from here?”

“About a half mile or so.”

“And where is his closest neighbor?”

“That’d be the Turleys, miss. That house would be another quarter-mile down the road past Lord Fenwicke’s.”

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you. Stay here until I return, if you please.”

He nodded and didn’t ask her any uncomfortable questions. She’d requested that before they’d set out, and she’d paid him well for his discretion.

She glanced at Mr. Peebles, gave a curt nod, and then set off, picking her way carefully down the road in the semidarkness. It wasn’t too difficult to see, for it was a clear, crisp, late-winter evening. Stars lit the night sky, and the moon was up, casting a dim silvery light over the landscape.

They turned down a sharp curve in the road, and the house came into view. Light spilled from four small upstairs windows, but it appeared that there were no other lights on in the house.

“Max, are you in there?” she murmured.

“What’s that, miss?” Mr. Peebles’s too-loud voice seemed to reverberate through the night.

She jerked to a stop and turned to him, pressing her finger against her lips. “Shh. They can’t know we’re here, do you understand?”

The man’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh. Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.”

“It’s all right.”

Peebles wasn’t a very bright man and he wasn’t much bigger than Olivia herself, but she agreed with Max’s assessment that he was generally a good man, and had quickly become a loyal servant to them both. She’d grown quite fond of him.

“All right,” she murmured. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to search the exterior of the house. Once we approach, you go to the left, and I’ll go to the right. We’ll meet around the back. Tell me whether you hear or see anything. Any movement, any voices. Anything, understand?”

Peebles nodded gravely. “Yes, miss.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

They approached the house, and Peebles didn’t make a sound. He’d even miraculously managed to mask the sound of his feet on the gravel road. Olivia’s feet were making far more noise than his were.

When they were within a few feet of the silent front door, Olivia glanced up at Peebles and nodded. Peebles turned away and slowly began to make his way around the perimeter of the house. Her heart beating like a caged rabbit’s, Olivia turned to the right.

She lifted her dress so the dew-dampened grass wouldn’t soak her hem, and picked her way over the grounds, keeping her eyes and ears attuned to any sound or sight that might be out of place. After a moment, a muffled sound came from the house. Hesitating, she glanced up at the window above where she was standing. Golden lamplight filtered through the closed curtain and lit a small square of grass on the ground.

Was Max in there? What was happening?

He could manage it, whatever it was. She had to believe in that. Fenwicke was in there. If she went into the house, she’d distract Max from his goal, increase his danger. She had to trust that he could deal with Fenwicke without her.

Her goal was to assess the exterior of the house and ensure that Jessica and Beatrice weren’t imprisoned outside.

She dragged her gaze away from the window and searched the surrounding area. The house rose to her left—this part of it was built with wood, but there was a stone turret jutting out from the corner just ahead. There were windows in the turret but no lights. Could Beatrice and Jessica be trapped inside?

Possibly. If they were, Max would find them. Yet, why would Fenwicke keep two ladies prisoner inside his house? Surely, when people heard he’d come to town, he’d have visitors. Then there were the servants.

Olivia knew Jessica well enough to predict with some measure of certainty how her sister would react in this situation. She’d be outraged, and she’d let her voice be heard. If Jessica were in the tower, she’d probably be screaming her lungs out. Even the Turleys, a quarter of a mile down the road, would hear.

Unless he’d done something to her. Drugged her. Killed her.

Olivia swallowed the lump in her throat. No, she wouldn’t think that way. Her sister was alive, and she was going to find her, because chances were that Fenwicke wasn’t foolish enough to keep her in the house.

She turned again toward the house, squinting at it in the night. It looked like an older house—built during
Elizabethan times, or maybe even earlier, considering the stone tower. Such houses often had secret corridors, priest holes, and the like. If there was such a place, she thought that might be the likeliest location for Fenwicke to have imprisoned his captives.

Olivia tiptoed around the tower, watching and listening for anything out of the ordinary in the still, cold night.

She turned down the side of the house. There was a door centered between the front and back corners, the exterior shape of a brick fireplace, and a dark, high window below the gable. She walked to the door and held her ear against it. Total silence.

Pressing her lips together, she moved to the back of the house. Her heart jerked and then pounded unsteadily when she saw a dark figure hovering a few yards away, but then she realized it was Peebles, waiting for her.

She walked slowly toward him, taking in her surroundings. The windows on the ground floor were dark, but there were two lit windows on the first floor above. Two dark silhouettes of outbuildings stood several yards’ distance from the back of the house—probably a barn and a stable, or possibly a cottage for the groundskeeper or steward.

She reached Peebles and pressed her finger to her lips, then pointed to one of the enormous chestnut trees and began to walk toward it. She slipped behind it, out of sight of the house, and asked Peebles, “Did you see or hear anything?”

“No, miss. All was quiet as could be. I’d think no one was there but for the lights upstairs.”

Her too, except for that brief bit of murmuring she’d heard. Where was Max?

She gestured toward the two buildings, both of them visible but partially obscured by trees.

“I’d like you to search the far building,” she whispered. “If there’s nobody inside, see if you can get in and search the interior as well. But only if you’re certain there’s no one inside, understand?”

“Yes, miss.”

“If you see or hear anyone, don’t let them see you. Come straight to me. I’ll be searching the closer building.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Good.” She gave him a tentative smile. “And thank you, Mr. Peebles.”

He looked down, a bashful expression passing over his face. “ ’Tis nothing, miss.”

She took a slow breath, calming her shaking nerves. “All right, let’s go.”

Mr. Peebles strode away, treading with his amazingly silent gait through the grass. She followed, veering from his path to approach the first outbuilding. It was silent and dark. No lights, no sounds. She circled it at first and decided that it must be a barn. From peering into the windows, she could see animal pens, but she couldn’t discern the movements or sounds of any animals. The place appeared to be abandoned.

After completing her circle of the building, she deemed it safe enough to try the door. It opened easily and glided wide without a squeak. That was surprising. Someone had recently oiled the hinges. This was odd, since the barn smelled like lye soap and dust—like it hadn’t been recently used. She turned to the left and began to explore the animal pens one by one. They were all clean and empty. A narrow set of stairs along the back wall led up
to a hayloft. Olivia climbed them—the boards squeaked and complained as she ascended, but there was nothing in the loft but an old black traveling trunk tucked into the far corner. When she opened it, the lid gave a loud, complaining creak, but the inside was empty.

She tiptoed back to the stairs and began to descend. About halfway down, she heard a soft
thump.

She froze. There it was again.
Thump.
And again, louder this time.
Thump!

“Jessica?” she whispered. She stepped down from the last step and hurried toward the source of the noise—it seemed to come from the opposite side of the barn, beneath the hayloft.

Thump. Thump. Thump!

The sound grew louder as she walked into the very last stall—what looked like a large pigpen. The space was empty except for a dark woven rug covering the floor.

She heard a voice—what sounded like muffled shouting. She’d know that tone anywhere. It
was
Jessica. And her voice was coming from below the rug.

“Jessica!”

More thumping and shouting.

“I hear you!” she said in as loud a voice as she dared. “Wait a moment.”

She pulled back the rug, struggling with its heavy weight. She could only see the door thanks to the moonlight shining through the bare window, casting a soft silvery glow over the floorboards. It was the barest outline of a door, invisible within the design of the planking, unless one was looking.

But how to pry it open? There was no handle.

She fell to her stomach and spoke to the crack in the
floor. “Jess—it’s me, Olivia. I’m going to get you out of there… but how do I open the door?”

She heard a muffled sound, then one word: “Crowbar!”

A crowbar? Where on earth would she find a crowbar? The barn was completely empty.

Well, there had to be one somewhere. If it was here, she’d find it.

She closed her eyes in a long blink of relief. Her sister sounded as energetic and full of life as ever. “It’s so good to hear your voice, Jess.”

She heard a faint, “You, too, Liv.”

“I’ll be back,” she promised. “I need to find a crowbar.”

She scrambled to her feet. There was nothing in this barn besides the trunk, and that wouldn’t be of any help. She went outside and hurried to the adjacent building, finding Peebles standing near a window with his head cocked as if he were listening intently.

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell if there’s someone inside, miss. I hear something… but it might just be a horse, aye?”

She peeked into the window, but the moon was on the opposite side of the building and she couldn’t see anything.

She released a breath through pursed lips. “How good are you with your fists, Peebles?”

His brown eyes widened. “Well, I daresay I’ve been in a fight or two, but—”

“Good enough,” she said quickly. “Look, if there’s someone in there, I’ll talk to him, but if he threatens to go to his master, we’re going to have to stop him.”

Peebles nodded, his eyes wide.

“All right. Come with me.”

She walked to the door, took a deep, fortifying breath, and pushed it open, hesitating at the threshold. A horse whinnied, and the floorboards creaked as another horse shifted its stance.

It was a smallish stable, with stalls for six or eight horses and space for a carriage, but certainly not enough room for apartments for the stable boys and groomsmen.

She glanced back at Peebles. “I think it’s just horses.”

Still wide-eyed, he nodded.

“We’re looking for a crowbar. Will you help me see if there’s one to be found in here?”

“Yes, miss.”

She moved to the far end and started opening doors to survey the stalls. The first two stalls she opened were completely bare save for the bales of hay piled inside, but when she opened the third door, she gasped in relief.

She’d discovered a veritable treasure trove of tools and farming and gardening implements. At the very front of the row of tools lined up against the stable wall was a crowbar as tall as Olivia.

She hefted it and went out of the stable. “Mr. Peebles! I found it.”

“Oh, miss, you shouldn’t be carryin’ that.” He hurried up to her and took it, frowning.

“Thank you. Now follow me, and we’ll help my sister escape.”

“Your sister—?”

But she was already hurrying out of the stable and back to the barn. She rushed inside and into the room where she’d found the hidden door in the floor. She pointed at its faint outline. “See? There’s the edge of a door, right there. Do you think you can open it?”

He slid the edge of the crowbar into the widest crack between the door and the adjacent floorboard slat and pried it up, grunting. “Prodigious heavy.”

Olivia chewed on her lip and watched him as he continued to inch the door upward. The bottom seemed to be made of solid metal—that was why it was so heavy.

When it was halfway open, she saw blue eyes peering out from a very dirty face and matted blond hair. Jessica’s blue eyes.

“Olivia!” her sister cried. “Thank God you came.”

With a grunt, Peebles pushed the door one more time, and it fell open with a resounding
thump.

Jessica scrambled up and out of the hole and threw herself into Olivia’s arms.

M
ax methodically searched every downstairs room of Fenwicke’s house. He started with the kitchen and servants’ wing and found it completely empty, though he was certain servants usually occupied the place. There were clothes strewn over chairs and soiled dishes in the scullery, which gave the impression that people had departed in a hurry.

The stiff formality of the rooms occupying the opposite wing, the wing bearing all the enormous portraits, made it obvious that those rooms were reserved for formal activities. Some of the rooms had been locked but the open ones were cold and stark. Max walked through a darkened drawing room, a study, and a library, all of which were sparsely furnished with dark, uncomfortable-looking furniture.