Isabella blinked hard several times, trying to shake the atmosphere of unreality. She felt cold to the very heart, yet she clung stubbornly to the belief that Damien would rescue them. Soon. Ian was a bright boy. Although he was distraught, he would somehow find his way back. She must have faith. Cradling the trembling Catherine in her lap, Isabella’s lips began moving in silent prayer.
Ian burst into the earl’s study, running as if the very hounds of hell were chasing him. Damien rose to his feet in confusion and watched his son race across the room.
“Father!” Ian launched himself at the earl. Damien caught the little boy in his arms. “Oh, Father, you must come at once! Something awful has happened to Catherine and Miss Browning!”
A rush of anxiety filled Damien. Crouching down on his knees, he grasped Ian’s shoulders tightly. The little boy’s face crumpled in misery and tears spilled down his cheeks.
“Don’t fret, son,” Damien whispered, his gut wrenching with worry. “Tell me what has happened.”
But Ian was too upset to speak. He threw his arms around Damien’s neck, lowered his forehead to the earl’s shoulder, and sobbed pitifully. The anxiety in Damien’s chest increased tenfold. He had never seen the child so distraught.
Ian had latched onto his father with an iron grip. With difficulty, Damien gently released the boy’s hold from around his neck. He held Ian’s trembling hands reassuringly in his own moist palms.
“Tell me what has happened,” Damien repeated, wiping away a trickling tear with one finger.
Ian took a shuddering breath and began speaking. “They are in the wall. Catherine and Miss Browning. I tried to open it, I really tried, but I could not. Miss Browning told me I must find you. She said you would be able to help them. You will save them, wouldn’t you, Father?”
“You are not making any sense, Ian,” Damien said with frustration. “How can Catherine and Miss Browning be inside a wall?”
“We were having an adventure, looking for Lady Anne’s treasure. We climbed up lots of steps, and Miss Browning opened a big door that made noise. It smelled funny, and then Catherine found a pretty room. I touched the wall and it moved. Catherine called it a secret passage, and Miss Browning said to stop, but Catherine did not. She walked inside the wall. Then Miss Browning walked inside the wall too, and it shut closed. And Catherine screamed and screamed. And Miss Browning told me I must open the wall. But I couldn’t Father ... I couldn’t.”
Damien drew Ian’s shivering body close against his chest and wrapped his arms about him.
“Do not cry, Ian. We will find them,” Damien said softly, trying to think straight. Ian’s bizarre tale was far from logical, but it did make some sense. And clearly the boy knew where his sister and governess were trapped. “You must show me where Catherine and Miss Browning are, so we can properly rescue them.”
Ian pulled out of Damien’s hold. The earl tenderly framed the child’s small face with his hands. Tears still brightened the little boy’s eyes, and he tried to bravely blink them away.
“I remember the way, Father,” Ian whispered.
Damien’s throat closed with emotion. “Good boy. Let’s hurry.” Hoping to ease the fear etched in the child’s eyes, Damien added, “Every gentleman knows it is bad form to keep a lady waiting.”
Hand in hand, father and son rushed from the room.
Damien tried not to dwell on the gruesome possibilities as Ian led the way. Were Catherine or Isabella hurt? Was that the real reason they couldn’t exit from this “secret passage,” as Ian called it? As a young boy Damien had searched many of the rooms in the old fortress and had never stumbled upon any hidden passageways. It was, however, quite possible that a room such as Ian described did exist, constructed long ago, perhaps during Cromwell’s time to hide Royalists. That theory certainly fit nicely with Lady Anne’s inclination for supporting and spying for King Charles.
“This is the room, Father.”
Damien blinked with surprise when he stepped inside and beheld the rose-tinted room. He was certain he had never seen it before since he knew he would not easily have forgotten such an striking effect.
“Here is where the wall moves,” Ian said.
Damien knelt where his son indicated and carefully examined the wall. He saw nothing unusual in the intricately carved paneling. Cupping his hands on either side of his mouth, he shouted loudly at the wall, “Isabella, Catherine, can you hear me?”
“Damien, is that you?”
The words were faint, but distinguishable. Damien smiled weakly as relief shot through him. He had found them.
“Ian brought me here, Isabella. Are you injured? Is Catherine with you?”
“I am here, Father,” Catherine wailed.
“We are fine,” Isabella said. “A bit anxious to get out, however. Ian originally found the latch that releases the panel. It must be fairly low to the ground.”
With renewed determination, Damien continued poking and probing the panel, following Isabella’s advice to search the lower half of the wall. Suddenly, his fingers found a small latch hidden within the carving of a thorny rose stem. Excited, Damien pulled on it and the panel miraculously popped open.
“You did it!” Ian cried with delight.
“Help me, son.” The little boy moved forward and they pushed together on one side of the panel. It swung inward and Catherine and Isabella literally tumbled out with a shriek of alarm.
