Cassandra’s hand flew to her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat. It was a copy of the custody agreement. The very same one Mr. Longham had possessed.
“I never told me husband, ye ken, and I’d made up me mind to forget ye. Even so, I could not bring myself to feed this t’ the fire. I kept it hidden under the floorboards. Perhaps it will help you.”
“And I have your permission to share this? With the magistrate? And the court?”
Mary Smith nodded.
“Why, this is wonderful!”
“I hope it will help ease things for ye.”
Cassandra embraced her mother. “This makes all the difference in the world, truly. Thank you for sharing this with me.”
***
As James returned home and crossed the great hall, Cassandra was on his mind.
Their kiss and the moments they shared the previous evening had complicated matters but also offered a fresh sense of hope. The very thought of her was a bright spot in the sea of darkness he’d found himself in, but he would be lying if he thought there was not a multitude of issues that would stand in their way.
He was on his way up to check on Mrs. Towler when the sound of muted feminine chatter echoed from the small parlor off the hall. Curious as to who it was, he made his way to the parlor door at the hall’s edge and pushed it open.
Inside sat Cassandra and a woman.
Cassandra jumped to her feet as he entered. Happiness lit her face, and she strode toward him. “Mr. Warrington, this is my mother, Mrs. Smith.”
The happiness on her face warmed him, and the other woman stood quickly at the introduction. He could see their similarities instantly. They were both petite women with narrow shoulders. The shape of their faces was nearly identical, and they both had large hazel eyes fringed with dark lashes. “Ah, Mrs. Smith. Welcome to Briarton Park.”
The woman glanced toward Cassandra nervously before she spoke. “Thank you, sir.”
Cassandra took her mother’s arm. “Mr. Warrington knows of our situation. He’s been very supportive of my search.”
Mrs. Smith lifted her chin. “Well, I am glad to hear that a kind man is at the helm of Briarton Park. I lived here, I did, many years ago.”
He could sense the emotion behind her words, and in effort to make her feel more comfortable, he said, “I imagine you could tell us a lot of stories about this house.”
Her brows rose. “Indeed.”
“Before he died, Mr. Longham said that secrets were hidden all over,” he added, attempting to lighten the conversation. “Are you acquainted with them?”
Mrs. Smith nodded, but she did not seem pleased to revisit the memories. Instead, her nostrils flared slightly, and her lips tightened. “Mr. Longham was right. ’Tis an old house, with nooks and crannies e’erywhere. There’s one in almost every room.” She walked over to the wall between the windows and lifted a panel. “See?”
James started, and then he stepped to the perfectly hidden space that opened to a recess in the wall. He opened and closed the panel himself. “That’s incredible.”
“Mr. Clark was suspicious of everyone. He had a great many lies and went to extreme extents to keep ’em. He even built secret rooms. Not even his wife knew.”
James exchanged a glance with Cassandra. “Mr. Longham told us about the hidden alcove in the wall in the study.”
“Nah, that’s naught but a storage area. I’m referrin’ to secret chambers, large enough to stand in.” Mrs. Smith tilted her head to the side. “Did Mr. Longham tell you ’bout the Tobacco Chamber?”
Heat was building beneath his cravat. He tugged at it in an attempt to release it. The sense that there was a secret in his own home, under his very nose, unnerved him. “No. He didn’t.”
She shook her head with an impatience that suggested the memory plagued her. “No one was supposed to know about it. It’s a passageway, really. It goes under the ground t’ the stables. When I was here, he told me ’bout it but made me swear to tell no one. I’ll show you, if ye like.”
With the authority that came with familiarity, Mrs. Smith led them from the parlor, through the great hall, down the corridor, and into the study. She moved toward the inner wall. “This is where most of his secrets were held, least when I was ’ere.”
Mrs. Smith lifted a piece of trim work, which seemed to serve as a lock. Once it was free, the entire panel swung inward into a void.
Using the light from the fire, Mrs. Smith lit a candle, then a lantern, and then handed it to him.
