A Convenient Bride (42 page)

“Do you think Bethany knew the truth?” Brenna tried to imagine Bethany keeping such a secret. “She was a witch, but could she close her eyes to his misdeeds, knowing her brother was killing women and letting him continue on that path?”

“Perhaps she left to keep from giving him away,” Jace said. He looked down at the map. “We will probably never know.”

Jace scanned the torn paper. “We have covered our property. There are only two common areas left. The village is the largest, the church, and the abbey. We checked the abbey already.”

“Let us check the village,” Richard suggested.

“I’ll go,” Jace offered. “You two check the church the tenants use. When you finish, you can join me.” At Richard’s nod, he spun his horse and rode away.

Brenna adjusted her hat and retied the ribbons under her chin. “Shall we?” Brontes turned her head, and Brenna looked behind them. “We have a rider coming.” She squinted. “I think it’s Andrew.”

It
was
Andrew. He joined the group. “No sign of them?”

“Not yet,” Richard said. “We were about to leave for the church. It is one of the few places we have left to search.”

“Not exactly.” Andrew pulled out another copy of the map. It was folded into a small rectangle. “I was looking over the map and found something I’d missed.”

“What is it?” Brenna asked. She nudged Brontes closer to him.

Andrew held up the map so they could see it. “Long ago, before the abbey was built, a keep was on the property. Sometime in the mid-seventeenth century, it burned. Eventually, the remaining stones were used in building the abbey over the old keep.”

Richard motioned impatiently for Andrew to get to the point.

“What is left of the original keep is all underground. The dungeon.” Andrew’s voice rose. “Don’t you see? It’s a perfect place to hide, if the killers found an entrance.”

Brenna’s heart thudded. Richard stared. “How did I not know about this? I have lived here all my life.”

Andrew put the map into his pocket. “I have always been interested in both maps and history. I researched all of the buildings in this area. There was a small mention, in a dusty old book, about the keep and the dungeon. At one time I planned to see if I could find it, but my work kept me busy, and then I was off hunting for Anne.”

“Can you find it now?” Richard asked, with unconcealed excitement in his voice.

“Possibly.” Andrew did not sound confident. “If Bentley or Everhart stumbled upon the entrance, there should be signs of activity—footprints, scrapes from a concealed door, disturbed cobwebs—or there may be nothing at all.”

“We must try,” Brenna said. “We will not find the passageway if we waste time speculating.” She nudged Brontes forward in the direction of the abbey.

“Brenna, wait!”

I
t took Richard a burst of speed to catch up with Brenna. “What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, over the sound of hoof beats pounding on the road.

“I’m racing for the abbey,” she shouted back. “We have to search the ruins. It may be our last chance to find our killers.”

She knew he was displeased. It was in his voice. He’d demand that she return to the hall and hide behind locked doors. She would not accept his directive, and they’d quarrel. Eventually, he’d agree with her point rather than wasting time arguing further.

There would be no hiding in the hall for her. After all that had happened, she had to see this through.

The road flew beneath Brontes’s hooves. The mare must have sensed her urgency and gave her all. Brenna’s hat flew off her head to dangle between her shoulder blades from its ribbons. She could hear Richard behind her, and she did not slow.

Within minutes, the abbey spire came into view. It was nearly impossible to believe the tumbledown ruins still held secrets. However, she trusted Andrew to know. They needed their three minds to find the dungeon if it did indeed exist.

She stopped at the edge of the property. There was a possibility that one of the men was keeping watch, and they needed caution when approaching the abbey.

Before Richard could protest, she was off Brontes and tying the mare to a bush.

“Brenna.” Richard swung off his gelding. He led his horse up beside the mare.

She removed her hat, tossed it onto the bush, and quelled his argument before it began. “Would it not be in the best interest of us both if you watched over me, rather than me pretending to ride away and instead secretly following in your wake?”

Grumbling under his breath about stubborn wives and some such, he reached for her arm and faced her. “You will do everything I say from this moment forward, or I will drag you back to the hall myself and tie you to a chair if I must.”

She knew he’d not let her accompany him if she did not agree. “Yes, Husband.”

They waited for Andrew to catch up, then scanned the abbey for any sign of George or Clive watching from the open windows. Set against a backdrop of gray clouds, the abbey was eerily quiet.

“I see no one,” Richard said, and pulled the pair of pistols from his waistband. “This is good. Follow me closely and keep vigilant.”

Staying in the taller weeds, they walked slowly toward the abbey. The only signs of life were crows perched on the edge of a stone wall. They flew off as the trio approached.

“If the two men were here, would they not have disturbed the birds?” Brenna whispered.

“Not if they’ve been underground for a while,” Andrew whispered back. “With the Runners all over the park, they will remain hidden for as long as possible before making their escape.”

Richard led them along the same path he and Brenna had taken last fall. The abbey was much the same as she remembered, though the weeds were tromped down from many men passing through during the searches.

“Where should we start?” Richard said softly. He scanned the large room. Brenna walked the perimeter, hoping to find something to indicate a dungeon below. She did not truly expect to find anything here. If a door or passageway was that easy to find, it would have been found long ago.

No, it was the need for a distraction that drove her forward. She did not want Richard to see her fear.

“This part of the building is a good place to begin.” Andrew looked up at the patches of open sky from the damaged roof. “I think the west walls were part of the original keep.” He walked in that direction. They went through a low doorway into a small, dark room. Andrew pointed to broken bits of wood on the dirt. “This used to be a wood floor. It was probably broken up by the tenants for firewood.”

A quick search of the room turned up nothing but a mouse nest in the corner. Similar searches of the rest of the rooms on the ground level were equally disappointing.

Andrew rubbed his eyes. “We have to continue searching. I know there is a dungeon under this abbey.” He walked away.

Brenna and Richard shared a glance. Neither wanted to give up hope, but there was no indication that the killers had taken shelter here. “We must continue,” she agreed, and he nodded.

They joined Andrew and climbed the staircase to the second floor. Careful to watch out for the two killers, they went from room to room, peering into each crack and corner.

The abbey was built for pious women who lived simply. The rooms were a reflection of that. There were no hidden doors in the walls or the floor. At the far end of the hall was the large room Brenna remembered from the earlier visit, with the huge fireplace at one end. She imagined the amount of wood and peat it would take to keep a fire burning in a fireplace of this size.

Brenna walked to the fireplace and stepped inside the massive structure. It was almost a separate room by itself.

Her boots crunched over tiny bits of old debris.

“The nuns must have gathered in this room for food or prayer, and enjoyed the warmth provided by this fireplace.” Her voice carried up the chimney. She bent to look out. “There are no killers in here, though it’s big enough for a half dozen men to stand in.”

“There is nothing here,” Richard said. “Let us move on.”

Before exiting the fireplace, and out of curiosity, she examined a crack in the back wall. In novels, manors and castles always had secret panels to rooms filled with hidden treasure,
or passageways in which to hide from invaders. Why not an abbey?

She pushed against the crack and felt a slight movement under her hand. Stunned, she pushed again. The wall clicked and slid back just a bit.

Her heart raced. She bent to look into the room. “Richard, Andrew, come quick!” she said, in an excited whisper. “I think I found something.”

Brenna stepped out of the fireplace to allow the two men to see where she indicated. “The back wall moved.”

They all stared at it, as if Brenna had found a skeleton lying among the ash. Truthfully, this was much more exciting.

Richard stepped inside and ran a hand over the crack. “I cannot believe this. You found the secret door.” He craned his neck to look back at her, disbelief on his face.

“Excellent work, Lady Ashwood,” Andrew said in awe.

“I would like to credit my intelligence and deductive skills for the find. Unfortunately, I found it accidentally. I do like to read adventure novels.”

“How it happened is of no concern,” Richard said. “You may have found a killer’s lair.”

There was no time to wait. Andrew and Richard pushed the stone, and the wall eased open with a scrape. The door to the dark and very narrow staircase inside was too small to walk through. They’d have to crawl in on their knees.

“This must be a secondary entrance to the dungeon,” Andrew said. “The main door and staircase would be larger.”

“We’ll need light,” Richard said.

“I think I saw some torches in a storage room down the hall.” Andrew rushed off.

Richard turned to Brenna. “I will take Andrew and see where these stairs lead. I want you to stay here and hide. The men may not be in the dungeon.”

Though she wanted to protest, she realized that once her husband and Andrew vanished into the hole, no one would know where they were. If anything happened, their disappearance would forever remain a mystery.

Andrew returned with a pair of lit torches. “I suspect our villains left these for their use.”

Anxious for his safety, she pulled Richard down and kissed him soundly. “Be careful. I love you.”

He held her gaze. She saw the love in his eyes. “I will.” Richard handed one of the pistols to Andrew. “Ready?”

Andrew nodded. With one last quick caress of her cheek, Richard went back into the fireplace, with Andrew on his heels. The men dropped to their knees and crawled through the door.

Lifting her skirt, Brenna crouched and peered inside to see them take the steps down. After a bend in the staircase, the torchlight faded and then vanished.

Backing out, she said a silent prayer for their safe return and checked the pistol in her garter. If either George or Clive tried to enter or exit the room, she’d be ready.

T
he dungeon was damp, cool, and dark but for the torchlight. Richard and Andrew reached the bottom of the staircase and moved quietly into the middle of a narrow room. There was nothing but a stone ceiling and walls. No sign of occupants.

In the distance, Richard could hear the drip, drip of water leaking into the chamber from above. The idea of spending days, weeks, or years as a prisoner in this dank place chilled him.

“I hear nothing,” Andrew whispered.

“This may be a futile trip,” Richard replied. He slowly swung the torch around. To his relief, there were boot prints on the dusty floor. “No, someone has been here recently.”

Andrew gripped his pistol tighter. “Then lead on, My Lord.”

Richard knew that Andrew showed a confidence he did not feel. His steward was not a fighting man, nor a soldier trained for battle. He was a man of books and maps and numbers. Still, Richard knew he would fight vigorously if in danger.

“Tread carefully,” he said. “The floor is slick.”

The room led straight to another corridor and another downward staircase. Uneasy, Richard’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. The dungeon gave all the appearances of being empty. His senses told him otherwise. Still, he walked on.

They were two floors down when a faint sound drew his attention. Hardly more than a whisper, at first he thought it was rats. Yet with a second consideration, he was not convinced that rats were the cause.

It sounded like the whisper of fabric on the stone floor. Was the killer lying in wait to attack them in the darkness?

He turned to press a fingertip to his mouth. Andrew froze.

Richard lifted the pistol. He handed Andrew his torch and whispered, “Stay a few paces back, just enough to give me some light but not enough to alert the killer I am coming.”

Andrew nodded. He stepped back until Richard was out of the direct light. Richard carefully moved forward, careful to silence his footsteps. His senses were on alert.

He neared the cells and glanced into the first one. It was empty but for a pair of rats. There was nothing but ancient pieces of what may have once been a cot and a broken and rusted chain hooked to a link on the wall. The second and third cells were empty, too.