Chapter 4
Almost an hour later, Kate and Ariel ran to the center of the room, where the map lay on the long table. “We found something! We found something!”
As the others gathered round the central table, Benjamin pointed at the map. “Show us where.”
Kate pointed to a nook beside one of the doorways, and Benjamin carefully penciled in an x. “It’s a hole, or a passage, or perhaps both. But it’s dark, and neither Ariel nor I wish to go inside.”
“We’ll do it.” The youngest of the Somerville boys—Clive and Edmund—bounced excitedly while their slightly older brothers, Seth and Colin, waved their hands.
“I’ll take the first pass.” Aaron pushed his way forward. “Where is it? If there’s treasure to be had—I mean a reward—I’ll have it first.” Though Kate was standing in front of the map, he pushed her aside, setting her off balance.
Benjamin, moving quickly, caught, her and set her back on her feet. Aaron’s brothers looked at their cousin with sympathy, but none said anything. All knew from experience that if they were to speak up, Aaron’s behavior would only worsen.
Kate glared at Aaron, then said sweetly, “Of course. Follow me. I think the passage is about the size of a man like you.”
When Ophelia started to object, Kate gave her a look that said, “Trust me.” Kate led the way, followed closely by Aaron, and the rest of the group fell in line.
The nook outside the door was tucked underneath the main staircase. Alongside the sides of the wooden stairwell, a series of admonitory scriptures were carved beneath elaborate woodwork reminiscent of Grinling Gibbons.
“We noticed that this bit was bowed at one edge, so we pressed there.” Ariel pointed to a carved leaf.
“And something clicked in the wall,” Kate said, feigning innocence. She moved out of the way as Aaron barreled forward. He stopped, staring at the hole.
“Well, it’s about the size of a man, if that man were only three feet tall and thin,” Aidan jibbed, stepping back to avoid Aaron’s fist.
“How do you get in there?” Aaron growled.
“I think you have to crawl,” Kate said sweetly. “Look here.” She pointed at one of the carvings, an ornate image of a camel in front of a very low gate. “I believe it’s an illustration of that scripture in the New Testament about the camel and the needle.”
“Mark 10,” Jessie Simms piped up from the back. “It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”
“Or Matthew 18,” Maisie Simms added.
“It’s also in Luke, but not in John.” Rupert, the eldest, explained. The three Simms children looked happy to be of use.
“Camel? Needle?” Aaron looked confused.
“You have to go in on your knees,” Kate explained.
Aaron glared, greedy for whatever treasure might be inside, or for whatever reward Alderson would offer, but unwilling to crawl on his knees to do it. He was an odd mixture of avariciousness and self-importance, and for a moment, those parts of his psyche warred with one another. In the end, self-importance won. “But there’s no need for a big man like me to try when one of the smaller boys can enter without crawling. Clive should go, or Edmund. They are both thin.”
“Whoever goes, you must promise to share whatever you find with the rest of the party, and the treasure—if there is one—belongs to Coldmarsh House. Alderson wishes for any artifacts related to his family to remain with the house, but he will reward you well if you find Mistress Thorpe’s treasure.”
All nodded their agreement, though Aaron’s was grudging.
In the end, Judith provided a torch, and Clive, the youngest and slightest of the Somerville boys, inched his way into the opening on all fours. He’d push the torch in front of him a little, then crawl forward. His shoulders disappeared into the dark, then his body, followed by his knees, then his feet. It was as if the darkness were a monster, eating him in four large bites. After Clive was completely inside, the group heard a thud, and the hole grew black.
“Clive! Clive?” Benjamin pressed to the front. “Give me a torch, Judith.”
Aidan rushed to light another, then carried it forward to the hole. “I’ll go.”
“No.” Benjamin reached for the torch. “I should have gone before.”
“I’m just as stubborn, and I’m smaller. What matters is whether Clive is safe, not which of us is braver.”
Benjamin conceded, and Aidan began to crawl his way in, but he stopped, and called back out. “It opens after a foot or two. Just a minute.” His feet disappeared as Clive’s had. “I can stand now. There’s dust on the floor, and nothing else. Spiders, but they are long dead. He’s not here.”
“Is there another door?” Benjamin called into the passageway.
“I’m looking,” Aidan called back.
“Tell him to press the carving that looks like a man wearing leaves for a hat,” Someone from the back of the group directed.
“Aidan, Clive says to press—” Benjamin stopped. He looked behind the group pressed around him.
Following Benjamin’s lead, everyone turned to see Clive standing at the back of the group. He was covered with grime, holding a burnt-down torch.
Clive shrugged at their questioning glances. He walked to the passage, dropped to his knees, and began to give Aidan instructions on how to find the way out. Once Aidan had found the appropriate trigger, Clive stood. “From inside that chamber, you can see that this wall is double.” He pressed his hand against the end of the wall in front of him. “I found the way out by accident: I leaned against the trigger when I looked up. But there are a series of notches carved into the wall that you can step on and hold. I think you might be able to climb the inside of the wall, if you aren’t too fat or too tall. But I didn’t try it, so I don’t know where you can get out up there—or if you do. Once I was behind the man’s head, I had several choices of ways to follow. I chose the first one and found myself inside the fireplace in the drawing room.”
The chatter in the group rose excitedly until Benjamin held out his hands for quiet.
“Tomorrow we will investigate further. In particular, we will have to pay special attention to the carvings of the scripture verses throughout the house. Apparently the Thorpes’ devotion to their faith led them to provide clues in a sort of scripture code. For now, however, we must dress for dinner.”
* * * *
After dinner, Ophelia went looking for Judith, hoping to catch a private moment. She’d been concerned all evening seeing the strain and worry on her cousin’s face.
She found Judith standing to the side of the main double doors, looking as if she were at the end of her endurance. The Simms children stood grim-faced, while their parents chided Judith.
“Our son Rupert can participate in the hunt, but we will not allow Maisie or Jessie to do so.” Simms waited for Judith to ask why, but when she did not, he continued. “It’s not appropriate for the girls to roam about unchaperoned.”
“I will be happy to serve as chaperone.” Ophelia stepped forward, and Judith looked grateful.
“But they say they are going to explore the passages they discovered yesterday? Do you intend to accompany them into the darkness of the walls?”
“The passages are not sufficiently wide for mischief.” Ophelia struggled to keep her face neutral.
“Boys can steal a kiss anywhere.” Mrs. Simms leaned forward from behind her husband’s shoulder.
Ophelia looked at the Simms girls, both timid, lacking even a hint of wit or verve. She couldn’t imagine any of her cousins finding either appealing. “My cousins are, for the most part, not of an age that the thrill of a stolen kiss is equal to that of hunting for treasure. The twins are only eleven.”
“But your own brother is sixteen—exactly the age that boys’ thoughts turn to more carnal pleasure. And three of Lady Judith’s brothers are that age or older.” Mrs. Simms waved her hand dismissively at the end of the dining hall where the Somerville brothers and Lord Wilmot were gathered for breakfast. Her waving hand turned into a pointing finger, aimed not at Judith but Ophelia. “As for you being a chaperone, I cannot understand how you would even consider allowing your sisters to engage in this sort of play.”
Ophelia suddenly understood the strain on Judith’s face.
“Or how your aunt…” Mrs. Simms continued.
Luckily Millicent appeared at Judith’s elbow, dressed as a cowherd, wearing a shepherd’s smock, a pair of wide pantaloons, and a mob bonnet. “Her aunt finds this an opportunity to research the architecture of recusant British buildings and the history of the Commonwealth—and is happy to serve as a chaperone.”
Mrs. Simms paled, then purpled. Turning her daughters by the shoulder, she marched them out of the room.
Mr. Simms sputtered for a moment. “Well, I must say…I think we must…perhaps it is best…” Like his wife, he took his son by the shoulder and left.
“I’m happy to see I could arrive in time to douse the fireworks…or light them, as the case may be.”
“I find them somewhat narrow in their understanding. But they have been Alderson’s friends for years.” Judith’s voice sounded thin and strained. Ophelia quietly retired, knowing now was not the time to press Judith further on the events of the day.
* * * *
“It’s been three days, and they still haven’t tired of climbing about in the walls.” Ophelia sipped her hot chocolate in front of the yule fire, while Benjamin gave the morning’s instructions to the cousins. Since the walls were dusty, Judith had found a half-dozen mob bonnets for the boys to wear—over much protest—during their explorations.
“Ophelia, darling, you lose yourself for days tracing the paths of your various chemical reactions. Certainly you can understand their fascination with the unknown.” Sidney had drawn his chair next to hers, his hand resting negligently on her knee.
“When you put it in those terms, of course.” She placed one hand over his, enjoying the peace of his presence. “I’ve always been fascinated with those things we don’t yet understand.”
“Ah, there’s a pretty drama.” Sidney pitched his voice low, directing Ophelia’s attention to the doorway where Kate and Ariel stood, once more wearing boy’s clothes. “Should we predict how it’s going to play out?”
“Mrs. Simms hasn’t seen them yet. She’s still directing her children’s breakfast.” Ophelia shook her head in dismay. “I’m grateful that Aunt Millicent wished for us to be self-sufficient and that the duke rarely noticed we were present.”
“Then we must wait.” Sidney’s hand squeezed her knee. “Of course we must look like we are lost in one another’s company.”
“I am always lost in your company…and without it.”
“Ah, my sweet, you are my North Star, leading me home.”
The pair, happy in each other, watched for the exact moment when Mrs. Simms realized that Kate and Ariel, wearing mob bonnets and trousers like their cousins, were not, in fact, boys. Her face contorted with horror and disgust, and she surveyed the room for an appropriate authority to voice her complaints. Neither the Aldersons nor the duke was yet present. Her gaze rested on Ophelia.
“Ah, she’s seen you now.” Sidney patted her knee. “See her stalk our way.”
“You’d think yesterday’s rounds with Aunt Millicent would dissuade her. But don’t gloat yet. I intend to defer to my husband’s judgment, as any good wife would.” Ophelia mimicked Mrs. Simms’s voice.
Sidney choked. “You are a good wife, but please, never defer to my judgment. If I’d wanted to marry a sheep, I could have married any one of a dozen debutantes before you agreed. Ah, she’s almost here.”
“Mrs. Mason! Do you see?” Mrs. Simms’s voice shook with anger.
“Indeed, it is a lovely day. I adore the way the snow reflects the light.”
“I’m not speaking of the weather. It’s your sisters. You can’t possibly countenance their behavior—or their clothing.”
“This is a private house party. The Aldersons consider everyone in attendance to be family in some way. And how often does such a tantalizing opportunity to map hidden passages arise?” Ophelia used her most patient public voice. The last time she’d used it was when two women at a milliner’s were fighting over the same hat. “I think the circumstances justify some unconventional attire.”
Mrs. Simms sputtered, then sputtered more when she saw Sidney’s thumb caressing Ophelia’s knee. “I can’t imagine why I thought that you—of all people—would care a whit about propriety, always touching one another in public. What example do you think you are setting? What will the children think?”
Sidney, rarely angry, intervened, his voice cold and flat. “I don’t know what your children might think, but our cousins and our siblings see the example of a marriage founded in respect and affection, a love match to encourage them to hope for the same themselves.”
“And, for a further example, I will be donning my husband’s clothes and exploring the walls with my family.” Ophelia stood, as did Sidney.
Mrs. Simms glowered, then turned on one heel, and stalked back to her children, gathering them up and ushering them from the room. The younger Simms looked back over their shoulders with undisguised interest and clear regret.
“Well, that went swimmingly. Now we can be improper with impunity.” Sidney leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth, and the boys applauded.
* * * *
Ophelia dashed up the central stairs, wanting to change into her breeches before the duke received word—as she was certain he would—of her behavior. For all Judith’s warnings that the duke would intrude himself on Ophelia’s marriage choices, he had seemed happy to see her well married and to a man she clearly adored, though it probably had not been a disadvantage that the duke had been old friends with Sidney’s uncle or that Sidney’s family was rich.
As she rounded the second-floor landing, she pulled up short, almost stumbling on her own feet. Where the old house met the new, beneath the rose window stood the narrow-faced woman once more. This time, the woman looked directly at Ophelia, her sad eyes seeming to reach Ophelia’s very heart. Ophelia stood, unmoving, waiting. When the woman had escaped last time, there had been dark shadows in the hall, but today, the sun shone brightly. Ophelia could even trace the ornate embroidery running along the bodice of the woman’s ancient costume.
Seeing that Ophelia waited, the woman pointed at the wainscoting that ran along the walls on both sides of the corridor; then she pointed at a specific carving on the wall beside her. Ophelia shifted her attention to the carving for just a second, but in that moment of inattention, she missed seeing whatever trigger the woman pushed to escape.
Ophelia stepped forward, wanting to stop the woman from disappearing. But once more, the lady seemed to simply disappear backward into darkness. But today there was no darkness and no open passageway for the woman to escape into. It could be a trick of the light, the woman knowing just where to stand to disappear so easily. But the conditions of the light had not been the same. It was impossible, but Ophelia couldn’t deny that she had seen it.
By the time she reached the rose window, the woman was gone.
Ophelia pressed the carvings and moldings near where the woman had disappeared but found nothing—no doors, no hidden compartments, no passageway that would allow a woman to disappear so easily.
But if she couldn’t find the way the woman escaped, she could at least find whatever had been indicated. The walls down the corridor were lined with richly carved wooden wainscoting that obscured the transition between the oldest and the newer construction. Carved into the wainscot were a series of images, just like those along the walls in the dining hall and around the central staircase. On the left, from the end of the hallway to the rose window, the carvings traced the miracles of the early patriarchs. On the right, those of Christ and his disciples. At the bend in the wall nearest the rose window was the Easter story. There an angel stood before the tomb, a heavy rock still covering the entrance.
Ophelia stared at the image, trying to identify what was wrong. Then she knew. The angel rolled away the stone. Ophelia reached out to the carving but stopped. Looking around to see if she was alone, she ran to her room, changed into Sidney’s clothes, and, lighting a lantern, returned to the spot where the woman had stood. She pressed on the tombstone, and like her sisters, she heard a click.
A door opened in the wainscoting, and looking around one last time, she raised the wick and stepped into the darkness. She pressed the door almost closed but not quite, wanting to explore the interior herself but not wishing to be trapped where no one could find her. The passageway was narrow and low, not high enough for her to stand erect but not so low that she had to crawl. She inched forward, holding the lantern before her to light the way.
About ten feet in, the passageway opened into a small chamber, the ceiling high enough for her to stand. The space was large enough to allow a person to lean against the wall and stretch out her legs but not sufficiently large to lie down. In the wall was a niche, holding an ancient lantern, long dry, and beside it a book. Ophelia blew off a hundred and fifty years of dust. She reached out to touch the book gently.
This was the treasure: she knew it in her bones.
Sitting down on the floor, she raised the wick to its full height. The flame threw dancing shadows along the walls.
The book was heavy, wooden boards covered with a thick dark velvet. She held it up to the lantern. The color was deep, perhaps a purple. It didn’t appear to have faded, a benefit of having been hidden for so long in the dark. On top of the velvet at the corners and in the middle were affixed tarnished silver roundels. In a library, the book would have rested on its side, not its edge, and the roundels would have ensured that the binding was protected from rubbing against the books above or below it. In this hiding place, the roundels had protected the book from direct contact with any damp. The duke had a collection of similarly bound old books, dating from the late fifteenth century. Was this book that old? And what about this book was so special that it, and it alone, had to be hidden in the walls?
A strong metal latch held the book shut tight. She fingered the latch, wanting to open it, but knowing she should wait. She had promised to share all her discoveries, and she didn’t wish to appear like Aaron, wanting to keep a treasure for herself. But the velvet was luscious under her fingertips, the roundels cool and smooth. She ran her finger along the fore-edge, feeling not paper, which would have been expensive enough, but parchment—animal hide soaked, stretched, bleached, and scraped to provide a lush writing surface. Parchment was used only for the most valued or important documents. What precious information would this book hold?
Surely it wouldn’t hurt simply to see what the book contained. She started to unlatch the clasp but stopped herself. Whatever secrets the book held, they were not hers. Sighing with disappointment, she rose and tucked the book under her arm. Raising raised her lantern, she lit her way back into the hall.
* * * *
When Ophelia entered the dining hall, Judith and Sidney were watching out the window. Alderson was clearing the parterre of snow, moving deliberately from one end to the next. Alderson refused to accept that his son was gone. Instead, during the day he would throw himself heartily into some activity, but he said nothing beyond a greeting, and the others allowed him his silence. Ophelia pulled a chair to join them.
“I’ve found something.” She held out the book to Judith, describing where she had found it but not how. She still wasn’t ready to admit that she had seen something that wasn’t possible.
“That’s quite a book.” Sidney touched the thick purple pile of the velvet. “I’m surprised some little mouse didn’t nibble on this for the glue. But it’s in almost perfect condition.”
“It is.” Judith held the book far more carefully than the book’s condition was required.
“I haven’t opened it. I thought that should be your prerogative or Alderson’s.”
“Then let’s call the others. We should share the excitement with them.” Judith looked out the window. “I’ll see if Alderson wishes to join us.”
* * * *
It took almost no time for the searchers to gather, jostling for position around the long table. Judith held the book up high for all to see. “We haven’t opened it yet.”
Edmund and Clive leaned forward to touch the velvet cautiously.
“Perhaps it tells us where the treasure is!” Colin jabbed Seth in the ribs.
“Perhaps it has a map!” Seth jabbed back.
“A map to a hidden treasure!” Ariel clapped her hands in delight.
Judith started to open the latch then stopped. “Ophelia found the book. She should have the honor of being the first to see inside.”
Ophelia examined the latch but could see no way to open it. Instinctively, she compressed the two boards together, and the latch, no longer under tension, fell open.
“How did you know to open it that way?” Clive asked.
“If you read books, you know how to open them.” Sidney tousled Clive’s hair.
Judith had arranged two stacks of books on the table to support the sides of the book, and Ophelia carefully set the book open between them. “It appears to have been used by several generations. I count five, no, six, different hands. I can’t quite read them.”
“Might I?” Benjamin said from the back of the group. “I’m rather good at making out unfamiliar hands.”
Ophelia gave him her place in front of the book.
Benjamin took a folded paper notebook out of his waistcoat pocket and ruled the alphabet down the edge; then beside each letter, he filled in the forms that seemed to correspond with it. After a few minutes of working on his guide, Benjamin spoke solemnly, “The headings for the first several leaves have already given up the book’s secret.”
“Tell us!”
“What is it?”
“Where’s the treasure?” The boys and Ariel declared almost in unison.
“The book tells us how to…” Benjamin intoned gravely, “fillet a trout, braise a leek, and treat a fever.” His face broke into a wide grin. “It’s a recipe book.”
The boys groaned together and dispersed back to their various searches, with Kate and Ariel close behind.
“Did you find a skeleton to go with the book?” Benjamin ceded his place before the book to Ophelia.
“No, only the book and a lantern.”
“A lantern? Did you leave it in place? Perhaps it provides a clue.” Benjamin and Sidney, after being instructed how to open the passageway, went to investigate.
Ophelia turned the pages, using Benjamin’s key to decipher the more difficult sections. The pages were carefully ruled and neatly inked. But something was not quite right. If it were an ordinary household book, the pages should have been messy, notes scribbled in the margins, lines marked out, blotches of ink, stains from frequent use. A household book certainly would have been less ornate and less fine. The book had its secrets: she was certain of it. “What else do you know about Mistress Thorpe?”
“Sadly, almost nothing.” Judith again watched Mr. Alderson shovel snow. “They married at court, so some think she was English, rather than Welsh. Her husband was executed in 1650; Cromwell had no sympathy with those who had resigned from the Parliamentary army to support the king. She disappeared some months before that.”
“Perhaps she hid the book to preserve it until her return.”
“Certainly, she would have little need for instructions on how to roast a pork while fleeing for her life?” Judith turned her attention back to the book.
“I can understand why she might have left it behind—it would have been dangerous to carry a book that declared your wealth in the very binding. But I don’t understand why she hid it. Of all her treasures, she made sure to keep this book safe.”
“You think it’s important.”
“Benjamin looked only at the first few pages. I’d like to see if it contains some hint to our lady’s disappearance.” Ophelia ran her fingers down the edge of the vellum.
“Then you should. I’ll tell Alderson that the book will be in your care.” Judith rose. Her husband was standing at the end of the parterre, staring at nothing. “In fact, given how easily the Simms take offense at our game, perhaps you should take the book to your room. I would prefer one fewer opportunity for conflict.”