“Gracious. I think this is a bit too much of an adventure. Don’t you agree, Catherine?” Isabella spoke with forced lightness, seeking to control the sudden panic that caused her heart to beat painfully fast.
“I want to get out!” Catherine wailed pitifully. She buried her head against Isabella’s shoulder and sobbed loudly.
“So do I, sweetheart,” Isabella whispered, forcing the sense of impending doom from her voice.
Still holding Catherine in her arms, Isabella inched them both back slowly through the cold darkness, waiting breathlessly to reach the solid bulk of the door. After an eternity, she encountered it and dropped awkwardly to a squatting position while precariously balancing Catherine in her arms. Isabella flattened her shoulder against what she thought was the outline of the door. Taking a deep breath, she dug in her heels and pushed with every ounce of strength she possessed. Nothing moved.
Isabella leaned her forehead against the door, refusing to acknowledge the choking fear and sense of terror that welled up inside her. Shifting Catherine to one side, Isabella freed her right arm and slowly, methodically, ran her hands over the inside wall, desperately searching. for a lever or lock or latch that would open the door. She found nothing.
Fighting down her rising panic, Isabella put her ear to the door, straining to catch the faintest sounds. “Ian? Ian, are you there?”
“I want you and Catherine to come out now, Miss Browning,” Ian replied, his voice sounding muffled and distant.
“We cannot open the door from this side. You must do it, Ian. Can you find the latch?”
“No, no, I can’t!” Ian’s voice rose in volume.
“It’s all right, Ian. You found the latch before, remember? You thought you had broken the wall. I know you can do it, just take your time,” Isabella encouraged. “Try again.”
“I can’t find it,” Ian screeched.
Even through the heavy door, Isabella could hear his whimpering sobs. Apparently, so did Catherine, for she began crying again.
“Don’t fret, Catherine, all will be well,” Isabella said with a show of false bravado. She kissed the top of Catherine’s head and gently stroked her back, trying to calm the child.
Isabella shivered, wishing she believed her own words of comfort. This was fast becoming a highly dangerous situation. Ian was clearly incapable of freeing them. He must go for help, yet the thought froze her. Would he be able to find his way back to this chamber? If he couldn’t, she and Catherine might be entombed for hours.
Firmly pushing that terrifying thought from her mind, Isabella spoke to Ian.
“We are going to need some help, Ian. Your father is working in his study. You must find him and bring him here. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Isabella’s heart lurched at Ian’s woebegone response. “I know you are frightened, Ian. But you must trust me. Everything will be fine. Your father will be able to easily open the panel, you’ll see. Go find him, tell him what has happened, and hurry back.”
“I don’t want to leave. I want you to come with me.”
Isabella bit her bottom lip hard. “Please, Ian, go find your father.”
A chilling silence descended, grating on Isabella’s already frayed nerves. Finally she heard the faint sound of Ian’s footsteps as he left the chamber. Sagging with relief, Isabella sank down onto the cold, hard floor, pulling Catherine into her lap. She hugged the child tightly against her chest, as much to bolster her own waning courage as to comfort the little girl.
“I don’t like it in here,” Catherine said. “What is this place?”
“It is probably a priest’s hole,” Isabella replied, grateful for. any distraction. “These chambers were built in many houses during the reign of the Tudors to hide members of the Catholic faith so they could escape religious persecution.”
“Did the priests live in here?”
“No. They would only hide to escape arrest, then leave when the danger had passed.”
“I think a priest is hiding in here right now,” Catherine said, her voice rising in agitation. “I saw one lying on the floor when I walked in here.”
Isabella felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. Surly it was fear and a vivid imagination that caused Catherine to imagine such a horrible thing.
“Put it from your mind, Catherine. I’m sure we are alone in here. What you saw was probably just a trick of the light when you opened the panel door. There is no need to be afraid.”
She rocked the little girl to and fro, humming softly. She knew Catherine could not have seen a priest, but something had badly frightened the girl. And whatever it was, it was still there, lurking in the darkness. Isabella shivered.
Time passed slowly, the silence and darkness becoming even more oppressive. Isabella placed the back of her hand over her eyes as a cold chill ran up her spine. She felt as if she was suffocating. She had never been overly fond of closed spaces, and with each passing moment it felt as though the walls and ceiling were closing in on her. It was difficult to remain calm and rational when all she really wanted was to break through the wall and breathe some clean, fresh air.
