Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
We turned to see Lady Jane leaving the landing and coming to us.
“I thought a walk would be the thing,” she suggested.
I could see she definitely did, currently wearing outdoors gear that would keep any countess warm in style as she strolled her country estate.
“I thought you two might want to join me, but I love you found Alice and Wolf,” she finished.
She stopped at us and gazed contentedly at the picture.
And then she shared, “Adelaide had this commissioned. It’s one of my favorites in the house.”
It felt like a bolt hit me at learning this news.
Which was why I sounded strangled when I asked, “Adelaide?”
She made no note of the tone of my voice when she turned my way and nodded. “Yes. Adelaide. There are those who say this is less Alice and Wolf and more her and Augustus. She was indeed blonde, but he dark. But it’s more than just his hair color. It doesn’t look a thing like them.”
It didn’t, though there was a bit of Augustus in Wolf, which would not be right in reality, since Augustus would be the descendent of Cuthbert, not Wolf.
“Do you know much about Alice and Wolf?” I asked.
The penetrating look she turned on me had my heart skipping a beat.
“Every countess knows of Alice and Wolf.”
“What do you know?” I pushed.
She tipped her head to the side in that way of hers. “Has Ian spoken of them?”
“He said they didn’t get along.”
She turned back to the picture. “Yes, that is the story.”
Though she said it like it wasn’t the story.
“They look pretty happy here,” I noted leadingly.
“Yes,” she agreed.
But she said no more.
“I—” I began to coax further out of her.
However, I got nothing more out because we all went still when we heard a scuttling in the wall.
“Where are the men?” I whispered.
“With Richard in the Whisky Room,” Lady Jane whispered back.
“You’re sure?”
“I just popped in to tell them I was going to find you and go out.”
I turned to her. “Where’s the entry into this wall?”
She’d never looked motherly at all.
She did when she started, “Daphne—”
I grabbed her arm urgently. “Where’s the entry into this wall?”
“Narcissus.”
“Get Ian,” I said.
“I don’t think—” she tried.
I didn’t listen.
I took off.
Thirty-Seven
THE PASSAGEWAYS
I found the hidden panel easily in the cheery yellow and white bedroom, and as I had seen Ian had done, I pressed against it.
It came unlatched immediately, springing away from the wall about half an inch.
I opened it more and wondered at my sanity when I peered into the gloom.
Then I heard a creak down the way…above me.
There was nothing for it. I engaged the flashlight on my phone and headed in.
This wasn’t a stairway, this was a passageway, but it did lead to a stairway, one that only went up inside the wall which on the other side would be the grand stairwell.
That was where the sound came from, so I went up and there was nowhere else to go. There was also no one there. It was a landing.
Except it had a door. I could see the ring that could be used to pull it closed.
I pushed it open.
And found myself in a bedroom on the second floor.
This one, the furniture was again covered in sheets.
But unlike how they kept the house, the door was open.
I moved that way, out of it, and looked left.
I couldn’t be certain, but I thought I saw someone going into a room down the hall, beyond the stairwell, in the southeastern wing.
I ran that direction, entered the room, and yes, you guessed it, a quick perusal exposed a hidden door.
Worse, I heard someone in the wall.
My heart beating madly, I opened the door, went in and shined my flashlight.
Well down the dark hall, I saw shadowed movement going up.
I raced down the hall, my feet in my booties pounding on the threadbare carpet under them.
Not exactly stealth, but they were far ahead of me, and this was a big place, easy for them to lose me.
I heard a slam above me.
I chased up the stairs.
Another landing, I pushed through the door.
And stopped dead when I saw the twenties style, black evening shoe on the floor. The T-strap was silver leather.
I shook myself out of it and raced out of the room.
And thus commenced chasing a shadow through the house.
But it was definitely not a shadow. It was somebody. I heard their footfalls and followed them.
Into rooms.
Down passageways.
Up and down stairs.
They were just always out of reach.
And worse, sight.
We were heading down to the ground level, but right when I exited the passage—the door left open in their haste, I thought—some kind of blanket or rug was thrown over my head and I felt a hand in my chest, shoving me back.
I threw my arms out to stop myself and the back of my forearm slammed against the doorway to the passage. Wood crashing against bone, the pain registered, which was most unfortunate.