He did not let her finish. “I will not go without you.”
There was no arrogance in it, only resolve.
Elise forced herself to climb the stairs. Each step felt like betrayal—betrayal of vigilance and betrayal of the fear that had kept her alive. Yet by the time she reached her chamber and shut the door, her body remembered fatigue as if it had been waiting for permission to collapse.
She lay down still dressed, having removed her boots only because Cook would have scolded Elise in her dreams. The bed was cold. Elise told herself she would close her eyes only for a moment. She woke to a quiet knock and the faintest light seeping through the curtains like watered milk.
Mr. Leigh stood just inside her door, hat in hand, expression grave but not alarmed. “It is time,” he said.
Elise sat up at once, her heart hammering as if she had been asleep for a week instead of an hour or two. “Have they come?”
“Not to the house,” he replied. “The note has done its work.”
Elise swung her legs over the side of the bed, the cold biting at her feet. “Where is Cook?”
“Below,” he said, “with Sophie. Blake is still quiet.”
Elise nodded and climbed off the bed with determination. Sleep had not cured her fear, but it had put a razored edge on her mind. It felt like drawing a blade.
She followed Mr. Leigh down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen. Cook had a lantern prepared, its light shielded, and a small serving of bread and cheese, as if they were going on a picnic rather than into danger.
“You will eat summat,” Cook said, pressing it into Elise’s hands, “or you’ll drop like a sack of flour at the worst moment.”
Elise wanted to argue. She did not. She took a bite and swallowed because Cook’s logic was unimpeachable.
Sophie hovered near the door, clutching her shawl. “Ma’am?—”
Elise touched her arm. “You will stay with Cook. You will not open the door to anyone. If there is trouble, you must go at once to Mrs. Bradley at the vicarage. Do you understand?”
Sophie nodded, her hazel eyes shining. Cook straightened. “I will keep watch, and if anyone comes sniffing about, I’ll pour boiling water on their heads.”
For a moment Elise was grateful for Cook’s stubbornness. It was a strange comfort, this domestic defiance in the face of danger.
Mr. Leigh turned toward the door to the cellar. “To the tunnel,” he said.
Elise’s pulse quickened as they walked. She lifted the small latch hidden behind the shelves and swung the panel aside. Cold air breathed out from the darkness, smelling of damp stone and time.
Mr. Leigh took the lantern, shielding it with his coat. “Ready?”
Elise did not hesitate. She stepped down into the narrow passage, gathering her skirts about her, her shoulders brushing the old stone. Mr. Leigh followed close behind, closely enough that she could hear his breathing, as ever steady and controlled. The darkness pressed in around them, and Elise felt the old, peculiar sensation of walking through something secret and alive.
“You said you would not let me go into it blindly,” she whispered.
“I will not,” he replied, his voice low and comforting. “I follow,” he said, “because I would rather be lost with you than safe without you.”
The words landed upon her without warning, and Elise nearly stumbled. She caught herself with a gloved hand against the wall, her heart thumping.
Mr. Leigh’s hand rested on her elbow and the comfort in the small gesture made her breath catch.
“Careful,” he murmured.
Elise forced herself to keep moving, because if she stopped she might turn and look at him and see something in his eyes that would be more dangerous than the threat Holt posed.
The tunnel twisted, dipped and then widened slightly. At last, a faint grey seeped through cracks in the concealed exit. Mr. Leigh extinguished the lantern with a deft twist. “No light now,” he said. “We do not announce ourselves.”
Elise nodded, her pulse now hammering. She bent down and pushed the small grate that concealed the tunnel outward and squeezed herself through into the chill morning.
They emerged into a tangle of scrub and low trees not far from the wharf, where the sound of ropes creaking and waves slapping against wood carried clearly on the damp air. The sky was pale and heavy, clouds moving slowly like weary ships. Winter lingered in every breath. How had she never known this was here? It was hidden in plain sight.
