His Wicked Embrace (27 page)
Read His Wicked Embrace Online
Authors: Adrienne Basso
Isabella ran lightly down the steps, determined to banish these thoughts and make this encounter with Thomas a festive event. Clutching a piece of the heavy vellum paper discovered among her mother's belongings tightly in her sweating palm, Isabella crossed the hallway and entered the drawing room.
Lord Poole was sitting by the window, reading a book. He was dressed as immaculately as usual in blue knee breeches, an embroidered silver waistcoat, and a light blue coat. His snowy white neckcloth was elaborately tied, and his fair hair was meticulously brushed.
“Good day, Isabella. I missed seeing you at breakfast this morning, but you look so enchanting, I believe the wait was worth it.”
He smiled so broadly, she could see small creases at the corners of his blue eyes.
“Good afternoon, Thomas,” Isabella said. She moved toward the sofa and Lord Poole politely stood up. “I have some good news to share with you. That is, I think it is good news, and I very much hope you will feel the same.”
“This sounds rather serious. And intriguing. Come and sit by the window. 'Tis more comfortable here in the sunlight.”
Isabella meekly followed Lord Poole to the sofa and sat down. He took a place next to her, so close that his knee was almost touching her own.
“Do you recognize this paper?” Isabella's voice shook slightly, but she was pleased she managed to keep her hands steady as she passed the sheet of vellum to Lord Poole.
He merely stared at the blank page.
Isabella reached over and gently lifted the vellum towards the sunlight. “Now does it seem familiar?”
Lord Poole looked hastily from the paper to Isabella and then back again. “This parchment is from my private stationery stock. It has my bull-and-star watermark. Did you find it in Emmeline's room?”
There was silence for a moment while Isabella fought to calm her thumping heart. “The writing paper was found among my mother's belongings. Damien and I both believe it proves a strong connection between my mother and your family.”
Thomas grasped Isabella's hand and pressed it hard against his lips. “Isabella,” he said breathlessly. “Oh, my dear, wonderful, darling sister. I am delighted. Simply delighted.”
Isabella smiled with relief. His ready acceptance of her as his sister helped banish a bit of the loneliness and feeling of inadequacy that had haunted her whenever she was in the presence of her family. It was such a welcome change to be wanted by one's relations instead of barely tolerated.
“Thank you, Thomas.” Isabella blushed and pulled back slightly from his hand. “You are very kind.”
“My sweet Bella, I am exuberantânay, I am giddy with excitement.” Lord Poole jumped up from the sofa and paced the room with restless energy. “We must make plans. Can we leave today? No, perhaps it will be best to start out early tomorrow morning. Shall we head straight to London, or travel to my country seat? It is still early enough in the Season to spend a week or two in the country before arriving in London. You will be an instant success, I am certain. Of course, we must have a complete wardrobe made for you first. Would you like to go to Paris for your gowns? I would dearly love to see you dressed in the very latest fashions.”
Lord Poole paused a moment in his pacing, and Isabella looked up at him, her eyes wide. She had long suspected that Thomas would want her to leave The Grange, but she was unprepared for the extent of control he seemed determined to wield over her future.
Isabella mastered the shock she was feeling. “I am deeply flattered by your offer, Thomas, but I must insist you temper your enthusiasm. I cannot imagine traveling to London with you, let alone Paris. And a season in London? It is out of the question. I am twenty-five years old, far too advanced in years to be making my entree into society. Besides, how would I be introduced? As your newly discovered bastard half sister? It would be scandalous.”
Isabella watched the light of excitement dim in Lord Poole's eyes. “You are right to scold me, Bella. I have gone off half-cocked without considering your feelings. We must plan your introduction to society very carefully. I will not tolerate even a hint of scandal touching your name.”
“I am not interested in entering society,” Isabella quietly insisted.
“Nonsense. The beau monde will adore you. I will open up a world beyond your dreams, Bella, a world that has been unfairly denied to you.” Lord Poole suddenly went very still. “Bath! I will take you to Bath! It is a far less rigid environment, and the season does not begin until late summer. It will give you time to acquire a new wardrobe and refine your manners. Not that they need much study, but a few hints and tricks from me will make you feel more confident. I am certain you will be the focus of attention and admiration wherever we go. Most who gather at Bath are gentry, but many of the nobility also attend the assemblies and twice weekly balls. It is the ideal solution!”
“No, Thomas,” Isabella said, keeping her voice strong and steady. “I cannot imagine myself sitting among the matrons of polite society, drinking the waters and exchanging the latest on-dits with the fashionable world.”
“Please don't make a rash decision, Bella,” Lord Poole said, earnestly regarding her. “Promise me you will consider this very carefully before deciding.”
Isabella rested her hands at her sides and looked tranquilly at her brother, relieved to see the unbridled zeal had left his eyes.
“I promise to think about everything you have suggested,” Isabella said. “But I will not leave The Grange without giving the earl proper notice. You must agree not to press this issue with me.”
Lord Poole smiled fleetingly in her direction. “As you wish.”
Isabella lowered her eyes. It was clear Thomas possessed a great deal of self-discipline. He behaved with perfect correctness, showing her deference, yet Isabella could see he was displeased.
It seemed that her newly discovered brother wanted her to become a glittering jewel in the crown of high society, a sparkling gem among the privileged. He wanted to cosset and protect her and also, Isabella suspected, treat her more as a fragile doll than an intelligent woman. The idea was unappealing and unrealistic. Isabella took a deep breath and absently rubbed her temples. Her headache had returned.
Chapter Twenty-two
“No, Ian, we cannot go in there. Father and Jenkins told us we must leave Miss Browning alone today.”
Isabella glanced up from the book she had been staring at for the past half hour and saw Catherine and Ian hovering in the library doorway. Catherine had been speaking to Ian in a loud, childish whisper, but Isabella clearly heard her remarks.
“Children,” Isabella said, smiling warmly at them, “please come in.”
Isabella placed her book on a nearby table and waited expectantly as Catherine and Ian cautiously entered the room, hand in hand.
This is exactly what I need,
Isabella decided. Shutting herself away all morning had caused her to dwell overlong on her problems, and no matter how hard she tried, her brain would not be stilled from the difficult decisions she faced.
This is exactly what I need,
Isabella decided. Shutting herself away all morning had caused her to dwell overlong on her problems, and no matter how hard she tried, her brain would not be stilled from the difficult decisions she faced.
“We aren't supposed to disturb you,” Catherine said. “It will make Father cross.”
Ian nodded his head in vigorous agreement.
“You are not disturbing me,” Isabella insisted, welcoming the children as both company and distraction. Patting the love seat next to her, Isabella gestured for the children to be seated. “Tell me what you have been doing all morning.”
“We went for a ride with Father, and then Jenkins took us up to see Maggie and the new baby. The baby was sleeping, but Maggie let me rub her back. Ian did too. She felt very soft.”
Isabella focused her complete attention on Catherine as the child continued describing the morning activities, successfully pushing the tumultuous events of the past twenty-four hours from her mind.
“It certainly seems as if you have had a busy morning. Would you like me to read you a story?” Isabella volunteered. She stood up and began searching the library shelves for an appropriate book.
“We'd rather go on an adventure, Miss Browning,” Ian exclaimed.
“An adventure?” Isabella smiled and placed the book firmly back upon the shelf. “What sort of an adventure did you have in mind, Ian?”
“We want to hunt for treasure,” Ian said, swinging his legs restlessly.
Isabella frowned in puzzlement. “Lady Anne's treasure?” It seemed such a long time ago that Damien had related the fascinating tale of his ancestor Lady Anne and the cache of gold and jewels legend claimed she had hidden somewhere on the castle grounds. And even longer since Isabella and the children had fruitlessly searched for it.
“Oh, yes,” Catherine replied, her young face alight with excitement. “It has been ages since we last looked. We promised Father we would not go looking on our own. We need you to come with us.”
Jubilant shouts of glee echoed off the walls at Isabella's nod of agreement. Feeling proud of herself for being able to make a decision that clearly brought someone happiness, Isabella allowed the children to drag her from the room.
Isabella followed Catherine and Ian up to the third floor. The children were most insistent about searching this rarely used section of the house, and Isabella willingly indulged them. The first obstacle they encountered was a sagging oak door that shut off the east wing. It creaked piercingly as Isabella opened it.
“You must be careful where you walk,” Isabella warned.
“I'm sure this part of the castle has been closed off for many years.”
Isabella stepped carefully onto the scared floorboards, making sure they would support her weight before allowing the children to follow. They entered a huge hallway, the cool air smelling of dust and mold. Catherine opened the first door on the right, and Isabella felt a cold blast of air. She peered into the chamber. Shards of sunlight slanted dimly through the dirty, latticed windows which had several broken and missing panes. Everywhere were signs of damp and decay.
“I don't want to go inside,” Ian said. Backing away from the open door, he reached out and took Isabella's hand.
“It is rather gloomy,” Isabella agreed. “Let's keep on looking.” She held tightly to Ian's hand, enjoying the warmth and trust she felt radiating from him. He really was a darling little boy.
“This room is ugly,” Catherine declared, opening another door.
Isabella glanced inside and silently agreed with Catherine's assessment. The room was a vast, cold, and forbidding chamber with a gigantic fireplace along one wall that stretched to the paneled ceiling. Cobwebs clung stubbornly to all corners of the dismal room.
“I'm afraid all the rooms here will look much the same, children,” Isabella said. “Perhaps we should try another part of the house. We might find chambers that are not in such a state of disrepair.”
Catherine ignored Isabella's suggestion and continued opening doors. “Oh, this room is beautiful,” she said with a touch of awe in her voice as she pushed the door wide open.
Isabella and Ian murmured in surprised agreement and followed Catherine inside. The room was bathed in the glow of soft, rose-tinted light, an effect created by the sunlight streaming through the numerous panes of colored window glass. Although dirty and dusty, this room did not have the same aura as the others. It was neither cold nor damp, and the cobwebs were barley visible.
“Roses! Look, Miss Browning there are roses cut into the wood. Aren't they pretty?”
“They are lovely, Catherine.”
Isabella ran her fingers appreciatively over the delicately carved paneling. Ian bravely let go of Isabella's hand and imitated her movements.
While the children explored the intricate paneling, Isabella wandered slowly about the room, taking in the gentle calm and serenity created by the unusual rose-colored hues.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break it, Catherine.” Ian's voice was filled with remorse. Isabella turned to where the children were standing on the opposite side of the room and saw Ian frown dejectedly at his sister.
“You didn't break it, silly. You've found a secret passage.” Isabella saw Ian's eyes grow as wide as saucers when Catherine pushed on a section of panel that was no longer flush with the wall. Slowly it creaked inward. “Isn't it marvelous, Miss Browning? I bet the treasure is hidden in here. I'm going to find it.”
“Catherine, wait!” Isabella shouted and rushed forward, but she was too late. In the wink of an eye, Catherine disappeared behind the small door.
Isabella somehow managed to catch an edge of the door before it closed. It was heavy, heavier than she expected, but she pushed hard against it with her shoulder and opened the passageway. A strong odor of musty dampness wafted into the room.
“Stay back, Ian,” Isabella commanded. The little boy needed no urging. He obediently stepped away from the wall.
“Miss Browning?” Catherine whispered in a timid, weak voice.
Isabella moved forward and caught a glimpse of Catherine's features in the shaft of light that reached into the deep cavity. The child's face was ghost-white, her blue eyes glazed over with an emotion too intense to be fear. “My goodness, what is it Catherine? What is wrong?”
Catherine shook her head vigorously, refusing to speak, seemingly incapable of moving her legs. Reacting to the terror in the young girl's eyes, Isabella lunged forward, intending to pull Catherine out. But she misjudged the distance, and as her hand closed protectively around Catherine's arm, her hold on the door slipped, and it quickly slammed, shutting them inside.
Isabella stood in the total darkness, immobile for several seconds. The passageway was low, little more than four feet high, and she had to stoop to avoid hitting her head. Isabella could hear Catherine's rapid breathing and feel the trembling of fear in the small arm she thankfully still held.
“Catherine?” she whispered softly.
The child's ear-splitting screams echoed off the stone walls. Isabella's heart pounded with fright as she reached out blindly with her free hand, took hold of Catherine's shoulder, and pulled the girl into her arms. She held the screaming child close to her breast, trying to quell the girl's hysterical sobs.
In the inky darkness, Isabella raised her hand to cup the side of Catherine's face and tenderly stroked her cheek. Speaking in a firm, soothing voice, Isabella gradually penetrated Catherine's terror. The child's deep, painful sobs lessened, then mercifully ceased.
“Gracious. I think this is a bit too much of an adventure. Don't you agree, Catherine?” Isabella spoke with forced lightness, seeking to control the sudden panic that caused her heart to beat painfully fast.
“I want to get out!” Catherine wailed pitifully. She buried her head against Isabella's shoulder and sobbed loudly.
“So do I, sweetheart,” Isabella whispered, forcing the sense of impending doom from her voice.
Still holding Catherine in her arms, Isabella inched them both back slowly through the cold darkness, waiting breathlessly to reach the solid bulk of the door. After an eternity, she encountered it and dropped awkwardly to a squatting position while precariously balancing Catherine in her arms. Isabella flattened her shoulder against what she thought was the outline of the door. Taking a deep breath, she dug in her heels and pushed with every ounce of strength she possessed. Nothing moved.
Isabella leaned her forehead against the door, refusing to acknowledge the choking fear and sense of terror that welled up inside her. Shifting Catherine to one side, Isabella freed her right arm and slowly, methodically, ran her hands over the inside wall, desperately searching. for a lever or lock or latch that would open the door. She found nothing.
Fighting down her rising panic, Isabella put her ear to the door, straining to catch the faintest sounds. “Ian? Ian, are you there?”
“I want you and Catherine to come out now, Miss Browning,” Ian replied, his voice sounding muffled and distant.
“We cannot open the door from this side. You must do it, Ian. Can you find the latch?”
“No, no, I can't!” Ian's voice rose in volume.
“It's all right, Ian. You found the latch before, remember? You thought you had broken the wall. I know you can do it, just take your time,” Isabella encouraged. “Try again.”
“I can't find it,” Ian screeched.
Even through the heavy door, Isabella could hear his whimpering sobs. Apparently, so did Catherine, for she began crying again.
“Don't fret, Catherine, all will be well,” Isabella said with a show of false bravado. She kissed the top of Catherine's head and gently stroked her back, trying to calm the child.
Isabella shivered, wishing she believed her own words of comfort. This was fast becoming a highly dangerous situation. Ian was clearly incapable of freeing them. He must go for help, yet the thought froze her. Would he be able to find his way back to this chamber? If he couldn't, she and Catherine might be entombed for hours.
Firmly pushing that terrifying thought from her mind, Isabella spoke to Ian.
“We are going to need some help, Ian. Your father is working in his study. You must find him and bring him here. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Isabella's heart lurched at Ian's woebegone response. “I know you are frightened, Ian. But you must trust me. Everything will be fine. Your father will be able to easily open the panel, you'll see. Go find him, tell him what has happened, and hurry back.”
“I don't want to leave. I want you to come with me.”
Isabella bit her bottom lip hard. “Please, Ian, go find your father.”
A chilling silence descended, grating on Isabella's already frayed nerves. Finally she heard the faint sound of Ian's footsteps as he left the chamber. Sagging with relief, Isabella sank down onto the cold, hard floor, pulling Catherine into her lap. She hugged the child tightly against her chest, as much to bolster her own waning courage as to comfort the little girl.
“I don't like it in here,” Catherine said. “What is this place?”
“It is probably a priest's hole,” Isabella replied, grateful for. any distraction. “These chambers were built in many houses during the reign of the Tudors to hide members of the Catholic faith so they could escape religious persecution.”
“Did the priests live in here?”
“No. They would only hide to escape arrest, then leave when the danger had passed.”
“I think a priest is hiding in here right now,” Catherine said, her voice rising in agitation. “I saw one lying on the floor when I walked in here.”
Isabella felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. Surly it was fear and a vivid imagination that caused Catherine to imagine such a horrible thing.
“Put it from your mind, Catherine. I'm sure we are alone in here. What you saw was probably just a trick of the light when you opened the panel door. There is no need to be afraid.”
She rocked the little girl to and fro, humming softly. She knew Catherine could not have seen a priest, but something had badly frightened the girl. And whatever it was, it was still there, lurking in the darkness. Isabella shivered.
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