Isabella frowned in puzzlement. “Lady Anne’s treasure?” It seemed such a long time ago that Damien had related the fascinating tale of his ancestor Lady Anne and the cache of gold and jewels legend claimed she had hidden somewhere on the castle grounds. And even longer since Isabella and the children had fruitlessly searched for it.
“Oh, yes,” Catherine replied, her young face alight with excitement. “It has been ages since we last looked. We promised Father we would not go looking on our own. We need you to come with us.”
Jubilant shouts of glee echoed off the walls at Isabella’s nod of agreement. Feeling proud of herself for being able to make a decision that clearly brought someone happiness, Isabella allowed the children to drag her from the room.
Isabella followed Catherine and Ian up to the third floor. The children were most insistent about searching this rarely used section of the house, and Isabella willingly indulged them. The first obstacle they encountered was a sagging oak door that shut off the east wing. It creaked piercingly as Isabella opened it.
“You must be careful where you walk,” Isabella warned.
“I’m sure this part of the castle has been closed off for many years.”
Isabella stepped carefully onto the scared floorboards, making sure they would support her weight before allowing the children to follow. They entered a huge hallway, the cool air smelling of dust and mold. Catherine opened the first door on the right, and Isabella felt a cold blast of air. She peered into the chamber. Shards of sunlight slanted dimly through the dirty, latticed windows which had several broken and missing panes. Everywhere were signs of damp and decay.
“I don’t want to go inside,” Ian said. Backing away from the open door, he reached out and took Isabella’s hand.
“It is rather gloomy,” Isabella agreed. “Let’s keep on looking.” She held tightly to Ian’s hand, enjoying the warmth and trust she felt radiating from him. He really was a darling little boy.
“This room is ugly,” Catherine declared, opening another door.
Isabella glanced inside and silently agreed with Catherine’s assessment. The room was a vast, cold, and forbidding chamber with a gigantic fireplace along one wall that stretched to the paneled ceiling. Cobwebs clung stubbornly to all corners of the dismal room.
“I’m afraid all the rooms here will look much the same, children,” Isabella said. “Perhaps we should try another part of the house. We might find chambers that are not in such a state of disrepair.”
Catherine ignored Isabella’s suggestion and continued opening doors. “Oh, this room is beautiful,” she said with a touch of awe in her voice as she pushed the door wide open.
Isabella and Ian murmured in surprised agreement and followed Catherine inside. The room was bathed in the glow of soft, rose-tinted light, an effect created by the sunlight streaming through the numerous panes of colored window glass. Although dirty and dusty, this room did not have the same aura as the others. It was neither cold nor damp, and the cobwebs were barley visible.
“Roses! Look, Miss Browning there are roses cut into the wood. Aren’t they pretty?”
“They are lovely, Catherine.”
Isabella ran her fingers appreciatively over the delicately carved paneling. Ian bravely let go of Isabella’s hand and imitated her movements.
While the children explored the intricate paneling, Isabella wandered slowly about the room, taking in the gentle calm and serenity created by the unusual rose-colored hues.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it, Catherine.” Ian’s voice was filled with remorse. Isabella turned to where the children were standing on the opposite side of the room and saw Ian frown dejectedly at his sister.
“You didn’t break it, silly. You’ve found a secret passage.” Isabella saw Ian’s eyes grow as wide as saucers when Catherine pushed on a section of panel that was no longer flush with the wall. Slowly it creaked inward. “Isn’t it marvelous, Miss Browning? I bet the treasure is hidden in here. I’m going to find it.”
“Catherine, wait!” Isabella shouted and rushed forward, but she was too late. In the wink of an eye, Catherine disappeared behind the small door.
Isabella somehow managed to catch an edge of the door before it closed. It was heavy, heavier than she expected, but she pushed hard against it with her shoulder and opened the passageway. A strong odor of musty dampness wafted into the room.
“Stay back, Ian,” Isabella commanded. The little boy needed no urging. He obediently stepped away from the wall.
“Miss Browning?” Catherine whispered in a timid, weak voice.
Isabella moved forward and caught a glimpse of Catherine’s features in the shaft of light that reached into the deep cavity. The child’s face was ghost-white, her blue eyes glazed over with an emotion too intense to be fear. “My goodness, what is it Catherine? What is wrong?”
Catherine shook her head vigorously, refusing to speak, seemingly incapable of moving her legs. Reacting to the terror in the young girl’s eyes, Isabella lunged forward, intending to pull Catherine out. But she misjudged the distance, and as her hand closed protectively around Catherine’s arm, her hold on the door slipped, and it quickly slammed, shutting them inside.
Isabella stood in the total darkness, immobile for several seconds. The passageway was low, little more than four feet high, and she had to stoop to avoid hitting her head. Isabella could hear Catherine’s rapid breathing and feel the trembling of fear in the small arm she thankfully still held.
“Catherine?” she whispered softly.
The child’s ear-splitting screams echoed off the stone walls. Isabella’s heart pounded with fright as she reached out blindly with her free hand, took hold of Catherine’s shoulder, and pulled the girl into her arms. She held the screaming child close to her breast, trying to quell the girl’s hysterical sobs.
In the inky darkness, Isabella raised her hand to cup the side of Catherine’s face and tenderly stroked her cheek. Speaking in a firm, soothing voice, Isabella gradually penetrated Catherine’s terror. The child’s deep, painful sobs lessened, then mercifully ceased.
