Lady Knightley's Secret

‘Oh, no, don’t do that!’ Placing a restraining hand on his arm, she stared into his dark eyes with a look of entreaty in her own. ‘She’ll very likely wish to go with you, and I shall be denied the opportunity to speak to her alone. I cannot abandon my other guests, and was hoping to have a long talk after the others have gone. I cannot expect to heal the breach in five minutes and if, after she has heard me out, she is still determined to leave, then I shall return her safely to Dartwood Manor in my own carriage.’

In the face of these assurances Richard couldn’t find it within himself to thwart her plans. He saw no earthly reason why he should remain, though, and after saying he would order his own carriage brought round from the stables, he made his farewells and went out into the hall.

As a young footman helped him on with his coat, Richard heard the sound of a door closing and turned in time to glimpse a flash of Elizabeth’s dark blue velvet cloak before she disappeared down a narrow passageway. Where on earth was she going? he wondered. Evidently she had gone hopelessly wrong somewhere in the hunt, for all the clues and answers were to be found on the upper floor.

‘Where does that lead?’

The footman turned his head in the direction of Sir Richard’s pointing finger. ‘The kitchen area, sir, and the cellar.’

‘Good heavens! She has got herself hopelessly lost!’

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

‘Nothing. Don’t bother to order my carriage just yet,’ he called over his shoulder as he set off across the hall. ‘I’ll arrange for it to be brought round later.’

The passageway was dimly lit and, like the rest of the house, prone to draughts. Picking up a candle off an old wooden table placed against the wall, he turned the corner, and was about to open the door on his left, when he saw a faint glimmer of light through an open doorway at the very end of the passage. Shielding the candle flame with his cupped hand, he approached the door and, seeing a series of stone steps, realised it must lead to the cellar.

‘Miss Beresford,’ he called. There was no response, so he descended the steps to the cold stone floor below. ‘Miss Beresford, are you down here?’

‘Sir Richard?’ Her head appeared from behind one of the huge wooden wine racks. ‘I see you had the sense to put on your coat, too. This house is abominably draughty. And it’s absolutely freezing down here!’

‘Very true. But what quite amazes me, my dear girl,’ he responded as he moved towards her, ‘is what you’re doing down here in the first place.’

‘The same as you, I should imagine. I’m looking for clues. I sincerely hope this is the last one. I’m rather tired of this game. It seems to have gone on for—’

Elizabeth caught herself up abruptly as the sound of the door being slammed shut echoed loudly round the cold stone walls. There followed the unmistakable grating of a key being turned in a lock, and Elizabeth looked up at Richard, the all-too-obvious question in her eyes.

‘It would certainly seem so.’ He removed a fleck of dust from his sleeve. ‘How exceedingly tiresome!’

Elizabeth ran back up the steps and her groan as she tried to turn the doorknob was confirmation enough. ‘What are we to do?’

‘Wait until someone comes searching for us.’

He sat himself on the edge of a large wooden table. It creaked slightly beneath his weight, but he had every confidence that it would support him and began to swing one well-muscled leg to and fro, for all the world as though he hadn’t a care.

‘Aren’t you coming up here to help me attract someone’s attention?’ Elizabeth paused in her pounding of the door to ask.

‘No. But far be it from me to stop you making yourself hoarse and bruising your hands if you’ve a mind to do so.’ The look she cast down at him left him in no doubt that she would have derived great pleasure from pounding her fists against him. ‘I think I should warn you, though, before you become completely exhausted, that there isn’t an earthly chance of someone hearing you unless he happens to be in that passageway. And it’s quite obvious to me, at least, that the culprit has long since departed, or is profoundly deaf.’

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ After descending the steps again, she moved towards the table, a sudden frown creasing her brow. ‘If you didn’t come down here searching for clues, why did you come?’

‘To bid you farewell. I was on the point of departure when I happened to catch sight of you disappearing down the passageway.’

‘You were leaving?’ Initially she experienced surprise, but then felt quite aggrieved. ‘What…without me?’

He couldn’t prevent a slight smile at this. ‘Your sister hopes to persuade you to stay the night. She’s wishful to make up your differences.’

‘Is she, indeed.’ Elizabeth was decidedly sceptical. She would never trust her sister an inch, but at the same time would have granted her the opportunity to say her piece. ‘I shall certainly listen to what she has to say, but I’ve no intention of remaining here all night.’

‘Let us hope we’re permitted a choice, my dear,’ he responded drily and, easing himself off the table, held his candle aloft. ‘In the meantime, we may as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible. There’s no saying how long we’ll be forced to wait before we’re released from our temporary confinement.’

He discovered a pile of sacks in a crate and began to carry them across to the table. ‘Spread these out. At least we’ll have something soft to sit on. And, thankfully, we’re not short of something to quench our thirsts, either.’

He began to inspect the wine racks while Elizabeth placed the sacks neatly over the table. ‘If I know anything of butlers, there’s sure to be an opener here somewhere. Ha! Here it is, ready for his secret tipple, but no glasses, I’m afraid. Still,’ he shrugged, ‘one cannot expect every creature comfort.’

He rejoined her at the table and, after helping her to climb upon it, settled himself down on the sacks beside her. The opening of the bottle was accomplished easily enough, and he offered her the first taste, smiling at her grimace as she foolishly took rather a large swallow of the excellent old brandy.

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