“Insufferable brat!”
With a scowl and a few more mumblings, I strode to the window. Dark clouds blotched the sky, and rain pinged mercilessly against the glass panes. Any thoughts of a stroll or shopping to ease my temper fled in sight of Mother Nature’s dour mood. I huffed a breath and turned my back to the window, arms crossed over my chest. Cate was indisposed with a new settee. Nora had gone out with Margaret Fox. Henry couldn’t be expected for at least several more hours. Amelia may no longer despise me, but that did little to improve my immediate prospects.
Yet again, my choices were limited to hiding in my chamber, or seeking the companionship of Lucy Goodwin and whatever painfully dull excursion she had planned for today.
I opted to hide in my room.
While considering how best to fill the time, my gaze skimmed over several books on the bedside table, then came to a rest on my wooden writing case next to the dressing table. Correspondence was not the worst option, and I did owe letters to my friends Katrina Oswald and Allison Dowling back home. Resigned to the task, I moved toward the desk when my eyes suddenly found the wall panel next to the hearth.
My mouth pursed over the unexpected prospect. To be sure, it would be black as the devil’s cabinet in between the walls and equally unfamiliar. And heaven forbid that I run into someone unaware.
I tilted my head a little to the side and eyed the lines of the panel. It would also be a rousing adventure, and in truth, I could think of no better way to wile away the hours than exploring the hidden maze.
Impulse took over, propelling me forward before reason had a chance to intervene. At the mantel, I thrust a fresh candle into the fire, jammed it into a small brass holder, and tugged on the hidden lever.
The panel swung open, releasing a puff of cold, musty air. The small flame flickered in protest, but soon recovered. Staring into the darkness, my heart quickened as I contemplated the first step into essentially the unknown. Back home, darkness was a welcome friend that allowed me to move unobserved between Brighmor and the altar. Here, it could hold any manner of surprises.
This last thought should have scared me, or maybe brought on a more reserved emotion other than overwhelming anticipation. But I couldn’t help it. Faced with hours of boredom, and the need to show some sort of defiance in light of Sophie’s condescension, I stepped inside the wall and nudged the panel into place.
Velvety blackness surrounded me, pressing the candlelight to a few inches in front of my nose. I blinked several times in the hope that my eyes would adjust somewhat. Nothing changed, and for a moment I pondered fetching a lantern. But that would require a trip to the kitchen, and quite possibly another run-in with Sophie. The last thing I wanted was to have her snooping around, enquiring to my purposes. So instead, I focused on the insignificant light and started to walk forward, albeit slowly, toward the set of stairs I knew bridged the alcove.
The space was narrow by any estimation, unless leprechauns or other diminutive folk wandered Lady Dinley’s home undetected. My skirts brushed against the plaster and timbers, but being slender of shoulder, I could at least move without hunching forward like Henry must have been forced to do. From the heavy footfalls that had awakened me the other night, I possessed a decent understanding at what could be heard through the walls, and thanked my lucky stars for the soft-soled slippers I now wore in place of the usual heels.
Moving at a guarded pace, and with little means to judge the distance, the wall seemed to stretch far beyond its natural length. It can’t be much farther—
My toe struck the first wooden tread a split second before I glimpsed the hulking shadow of the staircase. I sucked in a ragged breath, then bit down hard to keep from cursing. Once the pain abated to a dull ache, I turned from left to right to better assess my position. From where I stood, the stairs seemed to lead away from the center of the house, most likely to the tunnels Henry spoke of, and the abandoned well that served as an unmarked entrance. Based on this logic, the passage running to my right must have led deeper into the house to the other chambers.
I would have flipped a coin if I had one. Instead, I resorted to the time-tested methodology of the nursery rhyme. Keeping my voice to a low whisper, I rushed over the words, as my free hand pointed in time between the stairs and the passageway.
Ibble obble black bobble
Ibble obble out
Turn a dirty dishcloth inside out
Once if it’s dirty
Twice if it’s clean
Ibble obble black bobble
You
Are
Out