Читать книгу The Dark Viscount - Deborah Simmons, Deborah Simmons - Страница 9

Sydony led Barto into one of the bedrooms at the rear of the house with a decided lack of enthusiasm. She was anxious to see the maze, of course, but she would prefer not to be beholden to her guest. The prospect made her uncomfortable, as did extended time alone with her former neighbour.

‘Look,’ she said, pointing to the windows. ‘They are all shut and nailed, as well.’

‘I can see that,’ Barto answered, in a dry tone. ‘But I think I can manage them.’

Sydony recognised the sarcasm, so she waited expectantly. But instead of moving towards the window, Barto set down the heavy pry bar that the workman had provided. ‘You don’t have to stay. I imagine you have other matters that require your attention,’ he said.

Sydony’s eyes narrowed. Was her company repugnant, or did he think to escape an onerous duty as soon as her back was turned? Would he make his valet do the chore? Although just a few minutes before she had dreaded being here with him, now Sydony felt compelled to remain, if only to see the job done.

‘Yes, I do have much to occupy me, but I am too curious as to the outcome here,’ she said, in a dry tone of her own.

One of Barto’s dark brows shot up, and the set of that gorgeous mouth told her he wasn’t pleased. Then why had he volunteered? The man and his motives were a complete mystery to her. He turned away, and, for a moment, she thought he was going to quit before starting. Instead, he began shrugging out of his dark blue morning coat.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, stiffly, ‘but Thompson will have my head if I ruin the material.’

Automatically, Sydony stepped behind to assist him, as she would Kit, but the elegant garment was more fitted and Barto suddenly seemed taller than her brother. Moving nearer, she drew a deep breath that filled her head with Barto’s unique scent and made her lose her grasp. She tried again, pulling the material off wide shoulders and away from a torso that was different from her brother’s. When had Barto grown so hard and muscular?

Sydony found herself staring at his back, and she stepped away, taking the coat with her. But when Barto turned around, her attention was caught by his chest, encased in a subtly designed waistcoat. Lest she stare again, Sydony forced herself to look past his elegantly tied cravat to his face, but his dark gaze captured hers with a ferocity she had never seen before. Breathless and witless, she felt like a stranger facing a stranger, her will no longer her own. That alarming thought jolted her from her trance, and she turned to hide her confusion.

Laying the expensive material over the back of a chair, Sydony smoothed it several times as she tried to regain her composure. What had just happened? Only a lifetime of refusing to back down made her turn around, her heart pounding so loudly she suspected Barto might hear it. Although she was relieved to see that he had started his task, the atmosphere had changed. No longer was he a former friend from her childhood, but some new and frightening creature, capable of affecting her in ways she’d never thought possible.

Skittish now, Sydony wondered if she should leave. She realised that she was alone in a bedroom with a man in his shirt sleeves, and there was no servant even within shouting distance. Not that she expected Barto to attack her, she thought, stifling a hysterical giggle. The very thought was absurd, and yet she had no idea what had just passed between them.

Sydony glanced nervously in his direction as he pried at the shutters with apparent ease. When had he become so strong? She remembered a scrawny boy with a tangle of brown hair, but now his hair was dark and sleek, as was Barto himself. Wary of eyeing him too closely, Sydony occupied herself with walking about the room, removing dust covers and inspecting the contents of a tall dresser, until she heard him speak.

‘I don’t think you’ll be able to salvage these,’ he said, and Sydony turned to see the expanse of glass revealed by his labours. The old window was dirty, and she hurried to wipe at it, resisting a temptation to call the maid from her duties. Although the panes needed proper cleaning, Sydony still could see through them since the rain had stopped. She looked eagerly below, where a mass of greenery caught her eye. It was much larger than she imagined, and, despite being overgrown, there was a definite pattern.

‘There it is!’ Sydony whispered. Filled with excitement, she grabbed Barto’s arm, as she might have years ago, and pointed with her other hand.

‘What?’ he asked, as though startled by her enthusiasm.

Sydony glanced up at him in surprise. Had no one mentioned the hedges? She opened her mouth to explain, but the flicker of interest on Barto’s usually impassive face told her that he had seen it, too.

‘A maze,’ he murmured, and they shared a moment of wonder that made Sydony forget her earlier discomfiture.

‘You’d need a scythe to get through some of the passages,’ Barto said softly.

He was probably right. The hedges were so thick in spots Sydony could not easily discern the path, a twisty, tangled route that made her shiver. ‘But there’s certainly no mistaking the centre,’ she said, awed by the huge tree, obviously ancient, that stood like a sentinel in the middle, its branches spreading out over the surrounding plantings.

‘It’s too wet to go out there now,’ Barto said.

‘Yes,’ Sydony answered. She glanced up at the man standing beside her, and for a moment the years fell away. They shared a look from their past, one that promised adventure and daring, right here in her own garden.

‘Well?’

The sound of Kit’s voice jarred Sydony, and she realised she was standing far too close to Barto. She was still clutching his arm, too. Releasing her hold, she stepped back, just as Barto did, and turned, unaccountably flustered, to face her brother.

‘Can you see it?’ Kit asked. His open expression gave no hint of anything except curiosity.

‘We can,’ Barto said. The tone of his voice made Sydony glance at him, and she realised that whatever had passed between them was gone. His face once again looked impassive—cold, even—and she felt a sharp stab of disappointment.

‘Duece, it’s huge,’ Kit said, moving between them to look out over the lawn.

‘And dangerous. You wouldn’t want to get lost in there,’ Barto said, just as though he hadn’t been tempted to brave it.

‘Yes! Don’t go investigating by yourself, Syd,’ Kit warned.

Sydony frowned. ‘Well, you’re not going without me,’ she said, in an echo of her youthful protests.

Kit laughed. ‘No, we should all go, to try to map it out. But we’ll probably need an army of gardeners to trim the hedges, or we’ll be scratched to death.’

Her brother’s choice of words made Sydony shiver, and the maze that had seemed so intriguing took on a threatening aspect. It was only the gloom of the weather, Sydony told herself as she peered out into the mist. Although the rain had stopped, the trees still dripped, and the constant wind made it appear as if there were movement among the greenery. In fact, Sydony could swear she saw something black in the dark hedges as she squinted through the dirty glass.

‘Syd!’

Reluctantly, Sydony turned away from the panes toward Kit, who must have been speaking to her. But instead of looking exasperated, he wore an expression of suppressed excitement. ‘Come away from the window. I want you both to see what our man found in the library.’

Although Kit was keyed up about something, Sydony was loath to leave the labyrinth she had waited so long to view. Perhaps she could try to put the pattern on to a sheet of paper…But Kit was already heading toward the door, and Sydony watched as Barto snatched up his coat and shrugged into it without breaking his stride. Obviously eager to follow Kit from the room, he disappeared without a backwards glance.

The moment they had shared definitely was gone. In fact, Sydony wondered if she hadn’t imagined it.

Barto moved alongside Kit, intent upon putting some space between himself and Sydony Marchant. He blamed the close quarters for the heat he had imagined between them. She had made her animosity clear since his arrival, and his sudden, unexpected hunger when she removed his coat was no more than a typical male reaction. No doubt, he had gone without a woman for too long, but he hadn’t the heart for it since his father’s death and everything that followed.

With that sharp reminder of his purpose, Barto dismissed all thoughts of Sydony from his mind. She might have grown into a beauty, but he was not here for a dalliance. He had too many questions, and even if the Mar-chants were not involved in the answers, he had no intention of seducing a gently bred female whom his mother had asked about.

Keeping his countenance, as well as his unwelcome urges, under rigid control, Barto followed Kit into one of the lower rooms. It was deserted except for the workman who stood near the doorway, wearing an odd expression. As Barto passed by, he gave the fellow a sharp glance. Though the man kept his face downcast, it was almost as if he were terrified. Had something startled him, or was he simply as queer as Dick’s hatband? Barto didn’t think much of Sparrowhawk’s hires. But was it the fault of the solicitor, or was something deeper at work?

When Barto moved into the room he could see some unusual ruptures in the floor, which went beyond the ravages of time. Indeed, the wood was torn in places, and, upon inspection, appeared not to be the result of accidents or animals, but of a pry bar.

‘I wanted to make sure that there weren’t any other bad spots while we were repairing in here,’ Kit explained. ‘So I had our man Newton there pull up the carpet.’ He gave a nod towards the man who still stood near the doorway, as though held there by no will of his own.

Scanning the space, Barto saw that the crates and furniture in the room had been pushed to the side, so that a large, worn rug that had covered one section of the floor could be rolled up. Beneath it was an expanse of wood that differed little from the rest of the planks, except for one small area where the secretary had stood.

‘What is it?’ Barto asked. At first glance, there appeared to be cuts in the flooring, perhaps where planks had been replaced. But when he stepped closer, Barto saw the marks were actually grooves in the wood.

‘It looks like a trapdoor!’ Sydony’s voice rose in excitement from behind him, like a phantom from his past. The ladies Barto knew these days would never show emotion in public. But Sydony always had been a strange one, more boy than girl, more stubborn and reckless than any other female.

‘It’s not big enough for a trapdoor,’ Kit said, as Sydony crowded in beside them, and Barto saw disappointment cross her face. She appeared to make no effort to hide her feelings; after the intrigues he was accustomed to, Barto found her lack of guile refreshing—if it were real. Then again, Sydony might just have grown up to be a better actress than any of the ton.

‘But, still, it might be a secret hiding place. It’s big enough to hold papers, I’m sure,’ she said.

‘Or books,’ Barto noted, watching the siblings for a reaction.

‘I doubt if it’s big enough to hold all the books that must have resided here,’ Sydony said, drily.

Changing his assessment of her bluntness from refreshing to annoying, Barto ignored her. ‘Were there ever any books on these shelves?’

‘Not when we arrived,’ Kit said. He crouched down before the section of flooring and ran his hand over the edges, then looked up suddenly. ‘Come to think of it, didn’t Father receive a large shipment of books not that long ago?’ he asked, turning his head toward his sister.

‘Father was always getting shipments of books,’ Sydony said. ‘And anyway, I thought Sparrowhawk said Elspeth had them all burned.’

Barto studied her carefully. Was she impatient to investigate this spot, or was she deliberately being dismissive? Barto looked at Kit, but he appeared to have lost all interest in the topic and was bent over the flooring again.

‘There’s no catch as far as I can tell,’ he said, his fingers probing the area gingerly.

Barto walked over to the secretary and rifled through the drawers to find a heavy letter opener. ‘Try this,’ he said, handing it to Kit. ‘If that doesn’t work, I left the pry bar upstairs.’

‘I hate to ruin the surface,’ Kit said.

‘I’m afraid that someone else has already done that,’ Barto reminded him, and both Marchants followed his gaze to the places where the flooring had been pulled up.

‘You don’t think someone was looking for…this?’ Sydony asked, surprise clearly written on her face.

Barto lifted a brow. ‘I think that’s pretty obvious.’

‘But if you knew where it was…’

‘And if you didn’t?’ Barto asked. ‘Perhaps whoever was searching didn’t know the hidden compartment was underneath the rug, with heavy furniture lying atop it.’

Kit turned towards Barto. ‘The solicitor said that our great-aunt claimed that someone was breaking into the house. But no thefts were reported.’

‘He acted like she was addled, but maybe she wasn’t,’ Sydony said.

Barto glanced around the room at the old mullioned windows set deep into the walls, presumably an easy entrance for a would-be thief. And unreliable or disbelieving servants attending an elderly woman they thought addled would provide little protection. And yet, something didn’t fit…

‘Why wouldn’t the would-be thief just come in after her death?’ Barto mused aloud. ‘By all accounts, the place was abandoned and deserted.’

‘Maybe he did. Maybe it’s empty,’ Sydony said, looking down at the spot in the floor.

But Barto suspected that the average thief wouldn’t trouble to return the room to the way he had found it. And yet, maybe the thief wasn’t average. Or maybe what he was looking for was already gone…

Barto watched as Kit levered the opener into the corner and the plank popped upwards, with no apparent damage.

‘Is it empty?’ Sydony asked, stooping beside her brother.

‘No,’ Kit said. Lifting the end further, he peered below. ‘It’s quite deep, actually, and I can see something in there.’

‘Books? Papers?’ Sydony asked, and Barto wondered why she seemed focused on those things. You’d think a woman would hope for a box of jewellery or a hidden hoard of coins or gold.

‘Hold on,’ Kit said, reaching into the space. His movements sent up a cloud of dust, and Sydony inched backwards, waving a hand in front of her face, which was probably just as well, considering what Kit pulled out of the hole.

Although dirty and blackened, the object appeared to be a skull. A human skull. Barto watched Sydony in case she started to drop into a swoon, but she didn’t even shriek at the sight. Again, she proved that she was not the typical female, that perhaps she was as brave as he remembered.

The shriek, when it came, echoed from outside their small circle. Barto looked up in surprise to see the workman, who had remained standing silent and as far from them as possible, stifle another wail.

‘You don’t suppose he’s anything to do with this, do you?’ Kit asked.

Barto shook his head. ‘More than likely the fellow is thinking of abandoning his employment.’

‘Why? Because of an old skull?’ Kit asked, grinning at him, and Barto felt the same sensation he had known earlier with Sydony. The years fell away, and he and Kit were just two boys, digging in the dirt and gleefully sharing their mischief. Except Barto wasn’t sure just how much they shared these days.

Schooling his features, he leaned over the opening. ‘Is the rest of a body down there?’ he asked.

‘I might need a lantern, but I don’t think there’s anything else down there,’ Kit said. He set aside the skull to peer into the blackness, but he had barely moved when another wail pierced the silence.

Again, Barto looked to the workman, who was so pale, he seemed frozen to the spot by fright. Finally, he lifted a shaking arm to point toward the skull. ‘It’s his,’ the fellow mumbled.

‘Whose?’ Kit asked, sitting back on his haunches.

‘His.’ The workman’s voice was low and ragged.

‘Well, whoever he is, he’s been dead for a while, from the looks of his skull,’ Kit observed.

At his words, the workman looked like he was going to faint dead away and Sydony shushed her brother fiercely. ‘Do you know whose this is? Is it someone who lived live here at one time? Are you saying the man was never buried?’ Sydony asked.

Barto suspected the workman was incapable of answering, but now that Kit had remarked on the age of the relic, Barto stooped to look at it more closely. He had seen bones before, mainly at the Royal College of Surgeons, where some members were always eager to share grisly learning tools. This one was old, and unusual, if he wasn’t mistaken. Pulling out his handkerchief, Barto rubbed away some of the dust to reveal its unique properties.

‘What the devil is that, a hole in the head?’ Kit asked.

‘Yes,’ Barton said. ‘Apparently, our departed friend was trepanned.’

For a long moment, the room was so quiet that Barto could hear the intake of Sydony’s breath. Then the silence was broken by the sound of the workman’s boots echoing on the hard floor as he fled the room.

‘Should I go after him?’ Kit asked.

Barto lifted a brow. ‘Even if you could catch him, I don’t think you’ll be able to convince him to return.’

‘Damn. Who’s going to finish the work?’

‘What do you mean—he was trepanned?’ Sydony’s voice rang out so loudly that both Barto and Kit both looked at her in surprise.

‘How can you two calmly discuss repairs when there is a skull secreted in our floor with holes drilled into it?’

For a moment, Barto wondered whether Sydony had succumbed to the ways of her gender, but she appeared to be more angry than hysterical.

‘Calm down, Syd. There are all sorts of strange things in buildings that are this old,’ Kit said. ‘Maybe it’s some saint or another. Lots of medieval churches have famous relics and bones.’

‘Not with holes drilled in them,’ Sydony said. She turned toward Barto with a look of exasperation that was so familiar he felt another giddy slip of time. Only firm resolve kept him from finding it endearing.