A Collector of Hearts (6 page)

           
“Go on then.” Caroline smiled. Despite the frequent
chills, she was rather enjoying herself.

           
Blake sat opposite her at the table. “Tell me, dear
Holmes, what do you deduce?”

           
“As I said, there’s something odd going on here. Mrs
Oakengate told me that the prince’s mother worked as a chambermaid at
Cassandra’s hotel in Cariastan. Now Stephens has just told me that the people
who own the Cassandra chain own this abbey. Doesn’t that strike you as an
amazing coincidence? Also, I think someone is messing with the gas.”

           
“Lady Cassandra, perhaps?”

           
“No, don’t be silly. There aren’t any ghosts here. Only
people up to no good.”

           
“How do you know I’m not one of them? Yet here you are,
trusting me with your secrets.”

           
“Perhaps I’m only pretending to trust you so that you
show your hand.”

           
“Ah, that old trick. Okay, I admit it. Last night I
dressed as Lady Cassandra just so I could catch you in your nightdress. It was
well worth the humiliation of putting on a frock.”

           
“We’re getting off the subject,” said Caroline, in stern
tones. “Someone is messing with the gas. There are mains taps in the cellar.
Stephens just told me. I’ve a feeling someone is turning them on and off.”

           
“Why?”

           
“I haven’t worked that out yet. I thought it might just
be a prank set up by the Henderson’s to help the Halloween spirit along, but if
that were the case, surely they would do it whilst all the guests were present,
and not when they’d all gone to bed. Otherwise they could not guarantee
everyone seeing the lights dim. It has occurred to me …” Caroline stopped. It
would not do to show her hand too clearly.

           
“What?”

           
“Nothing.”

           
“Now you’re definitely not trusting me. What do you
think, Caroline? That I’m working for the Russians or the Germans, and planning
to assassinate the prince?”

           
Caroline had the grace to blush. “I don’t know.” She
leaned back in her chair. “I never met my father, but I know he was a handsome
conman, and capable of murder. He tried to push Aunt Millie off a cliff! How do
I know you’re not the same?” And in that moment Caroline knew exactly what had
been bothering her about Blake Laurenson. He was good looking and charming, as
her father had been. Just the sort of man she had vowed she would never fall in
love with. It had cost her mother her life and liberty. Caroline had no plans
to dig her own grave by giving her heart to such a man.

           
“I’m flattered you think I’m handsome.” He spoke softly.
Caroline felt a different thrill run down her spine, but the pleasure of
listening to his voice was tainted with the fear of losing her senses over him.
She had to get away from him. What’s more, she had not finished her
investigations, and she would do them better without him to unnerve her.

           
“I’m sure you already know that you are. Now if you’ll
excuse me, I’m going to bed.” She stood up.

           
“No you’re not.”

           
“Yes, I am.” She yawned. The tiredness she had been
fighting crept back.

           
“Well, you might go to your room, but the minute you know
the coast is clear, you’re going to go down into the cellar and check the gas
taps.”

           
“How could you possibly know that?” That had been her
plan. If she could manage to stay awake long enough.

           
“Because it’s exactly what I intended to do.” He stood up
and headed towards the door, before turning back and holding out his hand.
“Shall we go together?”

Chapter Five

They went into the kitchen,
which was empty, and Blake took a candle and some matches out of the door. He
led her into a passage behind the kitchen. There were several rooms along the
corridor, which had internal windows, so that they could see into them. One was
the laundry room, and another looked to be Stephens’ office-cum-sitting room.
At the end of the corridor was a narrow door. Blake opened it and shone the
candle down to reveal the steps leading to the cellar. Caroline could smell the
cold, dank air below, and realised in that moment that she absolutely did not
want to walk down into the cellar.

           
“Come on,” said Blake, bounding down the steps as if he
were out for a country walk. She hesitated before taking her first tentative
steps into the cellar. The last thing she wanted to do was let him know how
nervous she was about going down there with him. All the servants had gone to
bed when they reached the kitchen, so no one knew where she was. Mrs Oakengate
would have gone straight to sleep, so had no idea where Caroline was either.
Her knees trembled as she descended the stairs slowly, ready to turn and run at
the slightest hint of trouble.

           
When she finally reached the bottom of the steps, he took
her hand and led her to the gas taps, which were in the far corner of the
cellar.

           
“Look,” he whispered, “some aren’t turned on fully.”

           
“That could be the servants, failing to turn them back on
properly,” said Caroline, hopefully.

           
“I doubt it. See? There’s a small arrow on the pipe at
the top. The tap has to line up with that to be switched on fully. I’m sure the
servants would make sure they were. Besides the ones that are only part turned
on are those that feed the gas to the end of the house where your bedroom is,
and the one for the ballroom.”

           
Caroline could see small cards tied onto each tap. She
picked them up and read them to find they indicated which parts of the house
each tap pertained to. Blake was right. Two of the taps had been turned only
part of the way. “But why?” she said. “Why would they do that? It doesn’t make
sense … unless…”

           
“What?”

           
“It occurred to me that if someone were planning to
assassinate the prince, they might do it in the dark.”

           
“And what, might I ask, would our fair prince be doing in
your bedroom? Or perhaps I shouldn’t ask.”

           
“Not with me! Mrs Oakengate believes he’s in love with
her.”

           
Blake’s laughter echoed through the cellar. “Sorry, but
that’s ludicrous. As well as rather icky, don’t you think? I’m pretty certain
it would be incest, given that she’s had an affair with his father. If not
that, then it’s far too close a relationship for comfort. I wouldn’t want to
seduce a woman that my father had made love to first. Certainly not one in her
sixties.”

           
“He was paying her a lot of attention tonight.”

           
“Probably pumping her for information about Cariastan.”

           
“Well, yes, he did ask her rather a lot about it. I
suppose it’s natural that he wants to know more about his father’s homeland.”

           
“Hmm, I’m sure he does.”
 
He turned to Caroline and she remembered that she was alone with him, in
the cellar with only the small flicker of a candle to illuminate the darkness.
His eyes searched her face, before focussing on her lips. “Well, Sherlock,” he
said softly, “we’d be as well to leave our deliberations for tomorrow when it’s
light and I’m not so tempted to take advantage of this situation.”

           
“What? By bumping me off so I don’t talk about your
dastardly plans to assassinate the prince?”

           
“Actually I just planned to kiss you into submission.”

           
Caroline swallowed hard, thinking that the idea did not
sound so bad when put into words. Luckily she remembered her own rules. “I can
assure you, Mr Laurenson that I am not, and I never will be, that much of a
pushover.”

           
In the next instant, his hand caught her waist and he
pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his. “Are you sure?” he said, when
he let her go.

           
Horrified by how easily she had given in, Caroline turned
and ran away from him, stumbling up the cellar steps in the darkness. She fled
to the safety of her room and locked the door behind her.

It was only when she was
lying in her bed, having left on all the lights, and had stopped her heart from
pounding that something niggled at her. Something she should have realised, but
which was just at the edge of her consciousness. She had almost dozed off when
her eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. The realisation hit her like a freight
train. Blake had not only known which drawer held the matches and candles in the
kitchen, but he had also known where the door to the cellar was, and exactly
where the gas taps were when they reached it. There had something else too.
Something that niggled at her, but which lay just beyond her reach. Something
someone had said. What was it? The more she tried to remember, the blanker her
mind became. If only she could fight the dreadful tiredness that assailed her.

           
She got out of bed and started pacing her room,
determined not to sleep. How had he known all that? And why had he suddenly
appeared she was talking to Stephens? She thought about him taking her down to
the cellar, and wondered if he had done it to ease her suspicions, thinking she
would not suspect him if he openly shared what he knew about the gas taps.

           
Unable to sleep, Caroline went to get her book off the
bedside table, thinking to sit in the chair and read for a while. She had left
the book open, facing downwards on the bedside table, but when she went to get
it, it was on the floor, closed. She supposed she might have knocked it off,
but when she bent down to pick it up, she noticed that her suitcase was
sticking out from under the bed. Normally neat and tidy, she felt certain she
had not left it like that. Pulling it out, she checked it and found that the
lock had been forced, and her clothes had been disturbed. She looked around the
room, trying to remember how everything had been when she last left it. One of
the drawers on the dresser was partly open, yet she had not bothered to unpack
because they were staying such a short time and she had enough to do to sort
out Mrs Oakengate’s clothes.

           
What’s more, she had pulled the door to Mrs Oakengate’s
room partially shut, as her employer had requested. Now it was wide open.
Creeping into Mrs Oakengate’s room, and trying to see by the light from her
own, she checked Mrs Oakengate’s luggage. That too had been disturbed, she was
sure of it. However, Mrs Oakengate’s luggage had been unpacked and put into the
wardrobes. A few drawers were slightly open, with articles of clothing sticking
out, as if someone had been disturbed.

Everything was becoming
clear to her and she did not know why it had not occurred to her before. The
only thing that she did not know was who or why. After a moment’s more
deliberation, it became obvious to her why Blake had insisted she go with him
to the cellar. It gave his accomplice, whoever that was, time to search their
rooms whilst Caroline was absent and Mrs Oakengate slept soundly. They were
looking for the Cariastan Heart.

She crept back to her own
room and pulled the door to, vowing to sit up all night if she had to and
prevent any further violation of hers and Mrs Oakengate’s property. Taking a
blanket from the bed, she sat in the chair with her book, and tried to read,
whilst her mind played over the events of the evening. She was still not sure
how Blake had persuaded Jack Henderson to let him join the house party, unless
Jack was in on it. That seemed unlikely. Jack was already very rich, and the
Cariastan Heart, though magnificent, would not be worth much more than half a
million pounds. Henderson was reputed to be a millionaire several times
over.
 
No, it would have to be someone to
whom that was a lot of money. Like a newspaper reporter.

She felt tears prick her
eyes and brushed them away impatiently. Why should she care if Blake were a
crook? In her experience, handsome men were. Her father had betrayed his best
friend, his wife and child and his own country. Why should Blake Laurenson be
any different?

“Stephens…” The voice came
out of nowhere. Caroline came to, realising that despite her vow, she had dozed
off. She looked up sleepily to see that the lights had dimmed again.
“Stephens,” the voice said, and Lady Cassandra appeared in the darkness.

“What? What about Stephens?”

A shadow dashed by Caroline,
before disappearing. At the same time the lights came up again. She ran from
her room and down the hallway, towards the kitchen, looking for Stephens. She
had no idea where in the house he slept, so she thought to try his sitting
room. As she passed through into the rear passage, the clock in the kitchen
chimed five o’clock. It was only when Caroline had opened the sitting room door
to look in and then stepped back into the back hallway that she saw the door to
the cellar was open.

It took every bit of courage
she possessed to light and candle and go down there alone, terrified of what
she would find. Hesitated with each step, she descended into the cellar; half
wishing Blake was there with his cheery chatter, before reminding herself that
he was up to something sinister. She found Stephens near to the gas taps. He
was lying on the floor, with blood gushing from his head.