Her uncle had caused harm to enough families. Helena would not let him destroy Silas’s as well. They had gone through enough pain already.
She began to wiggle in earnest, trying to get loose. The bonds around her wrists were painfully tight. Clearly, they did not want to take any risks. She stopped struggling and closed her eyes, wanting to use her other senses to glean where she might be.
There was an earthy smell to the space, as if there had recently been dirt there.
Am I somewhere underground?
By the pitch blackness she had woken up in, she could not discount that possibility. She listened hard, hoping to hear movement or rustling that might tell her if she was alone, or not. Or if there were people close by.
She could hear the steady murmur of conversation now that she was completely quiet. It came from somewhere outside, not too far. Likely, it was coming from the other side of a closed door.
So probably not a hole in the ground. Perhaps a basement?
Downfield Manor did not have a basement as far as she knew. There was a root cellar near the kitchens, but the door was above and not in front of her, so this was unlikely to be there.
She decided to try screaming for help, just to see what would happen.
“Help me! Someone please, help!” she shouted before beginning to scream, loud and long.
There was a bang and suddenly the room lit up as the door opened.
“What are you up to, you little hellion? Shut your mouth!” a burly silhouette shouted to her.
She stared past him and saw a corridor. It wasn’t very well lit either, but enough to show her the walls which were built with stone—similar to those at the abbey.
“Let me go, you oaf. When my husband finds us you will get it,” she said, hoping to draw the guard closer or at least find out something about where she was.
The guard snorted. “Oh yes? And how will we do that then? Eh?”
She glared at him, “Like I would tell you. I say again, you should let us go now! Where is my sister? What have you done with her?”
“Look here, Duchess, you’re no in charge here, all right? So shut your mouth, and wait for instructions like a good girl, eh?” The guard started laughing as he slammed the door shut again.
Helena huffed as she resumed wriggling in an attempt to get free.
If they thought she was going to wait around for her uncle to come and do heaven-knew-what to her or Amelia, they were sadly mistaken.
There was an increase in the timbre of voices coming from the other side of the door, and then it opened again.
Helena stilled. She knew that silhouette well enough.
“Let me go!” she demanded.
Uncle James laughed, before stepping into the room. “Such a rude girl. Not so much as a greeting before you make demands?”
“She always was a rude one,” a familiar voice said from behind Uncle James, making Helena gasp.
Sister Frances stepped into the room, to Uncle James’s left. She was followed by Sister Mary Gertrude, while Sister Philomena flanked Uncle James to the right.
“Good morning, dear Helena. Did you think you’d escape me forever?” Sister Frances asked, a smug look on her face.
Helena spat in her direction, though her heart was speeding up with fear.
“Ach!” Sister Frances exclaimed in disgust, “Such a rotten girl she is. You see what we had to deal with, Lord James? Just insolence and insubordination at every turn.”
Then Lady Downfield stepped into the room, walking right up to Helena.
“Darling.” She shook her head. “I hate that it had to come to this.”
