“And I hope I don’t get stuck,” Sophie mumbled, feeling uneasy. She wondered what had prompted Angela to bring her here now.
Slender Miss Blake easily slipped through the opening, and Sophie followed suit, sucking in her midsection and making herself as small as possible. In another few weeks she doubted she would have managed it.
“Watch your head,” Miss Blake warned.
Candle lamp held high, they walked for several yards. “Shh,” Miss Blake warned. “We’re behind the family bedchambers now.”
A passage ran behind her bedchamber? Did that explain the muffled footsteps and voices she sometimes heard? Who had it been? And if she could hear them, did that mean they could hear her and Stephen talking inside? A chill went over her at the thought.
“This is the first squint, placed here so one might see who was coming up the stairs, I imagine.”
Miss Blake gestured toward two small holes, spaced apart, like eyes.
Sophie leaned close and peered out. It took her a moment to recognize the scene before her. There was the newel post at the top of the stairs, and there the Gainsborough landscape. And there came Flora carrying an armful of linens.
“Let’s keep going.” Miss Blake walked on, and Sophie hurried to catch up, not wanting to lose the light... or her guide. An eerie feeling crept up her neck at the thought of figures tiptoeing behind the rooms of this old house like mice crawling behind the walls, or like men fleeing for their lives.
Miss Blake whispered, “Tread quietly; we are near Mrs. Overtree’s boudoir.”
Sophie complied, dreading to be caught skulking around her mother-in-law’s private apartment.
The passage ended at a T. They turned left and walked on until Miss Blake paused before another set of holes. “And this is my favorite. The squint in the musicians’ gallery, overlooking the great hall.”
Sophie bent to position her eyes in the holes, and this time felt a dizzy sense of unreality. It was as if she’d opened her eyes and found herself inside a familiar landscape she’d painted herself. She recognized the view. The vantage point. The way the great hall looked from this perspective—its windows high on the walls, the coat of arms over the immense hearth, the paneled screen dividing the great room from the entry doors. Although when she’d last seen it from this particular angle the room had not been empty and silent as it was now. But filled with brightly costumed people, dancing in Wesley’s painting of a masquerade ball—a ball he’d watched as a boy from this very spot.
Miss Blake said, “The Overtrees hosted a ball once, and the children were supposed to remain in the schoolroom with Nurse Whitney. But instead, Wesley and I sneaked down here to watch.Hegot caught.”
Wesley had not mentioned anyone had been with him when he’d watched the masquerade ball. Sophie wondered why.
Miss Blake added, “Sound carries very well from the hall.”
A bad feeling began worming its way through Sophie’s stomach. She glanced up at her companion, and the strange, expectant look in Miss Blake’s eyes only increased her sense of foreboding.
With a jolt, she remembered. She and Stephen had talked in the hall one day and thought they’d heard something... or someone nearby. And last night she and Wesley had talked as they passed through the hall together. Thinking they were all alone. Safe from listening ears.
Had Miss Blake overheard her conversation with Stephen that day? Had she been in the manor visiting Kate and slipped away to eavesdrop? Had she been here last night when she said she’d been visiting Winnie? Is this where she’d gotten the cobweb in her hair? If so, she might know the truth about her and Stephen and Wesley. Is that what she was telling her by giving her this little “tour” and showing her the squints?
Sophie was afraid to ask. Instead she whispered, “Do others know about these passages?”
“Do you mean besides Wesley and me?” Angela shrugged, “I suppose Mr. Overtree might, growing up here as he did. Though I can’t imagine him wandering about in all this dust. We didn’t tell Stephen. We liked to hide from him, as well as Winnie, when there were lessons to be done or lectures to be heard.”
Sophie asked, “What about Kate?”
Angela shook her head. “I did try to show her once, but I picked a poor time to do so—a stormy night. We’d gone no farther than the drafty priest hole when my candle blew out and she ran shrieking back out. Surprised everyone in the house did not learn about the passages then. She refused to go in after that, and I did not force her. I confess I liked having a secret with Wesley. Knowing something his own brother and sister did not.”
“Are there passages on the other floors?” Sophie asked.
Angela nodded. “The passage leads on to the old servants’ stairs I mentioned. So you can go upstairs or down. The stairs lead all the way to a hidden door in the scullery. I don’t know if there are exits on the upper floors or if they have been blocked. At least Wesley and I never found any others.”
Miss Blake’s foot kicked something and sent it skimming over the floor. She bent and picked it up, frowning at it by candle light. “That’s strange...”
“What is it?”
“Half a biscuit.” She handed Sophie the candle and broke it in two. “Still fresh. Someone else has been in here recently. Unless you hid a biscuit in that pocket of yours...?”
“No.”
Angela looked closer. Sniffed. “Almond. Wesley’s favorite.”
