After securing the inside door, she stood absolutely still as the darkness enveloped her, except for the very small flame in her oil lamp she’d taken from their room while Anthony still dressed. The blackness didn’t bother her, as she used to hide under the floorboards of the farmhouse in France after the war broke out, her family determined to keep her safe. Perhaps that was why she’d always enjoyed her forays at night to find food and treasures. She’d only robbed the living, staying far away from the battlefields where her grandmother stole from the pockets of the dead. The sight of blood was her greatest weakness.
Lengthening the wick to make the space brighter, she turned to face the room. The dark-red wallpaper didn’t reflect the light well. Hugging the wall, she searched for another lantern as she walked by weapon after weapon, each hung masterfully on the wall to create a medley of armament that could have been a piece of art. It held a wide variety from ancient claymore swords to what looked to be a bearded axe of the Vikings to a Celtic crossbow. As much as she wanted to inspect each piece, her goal was more illumination, and hopefully more information.Coming upon a desk, she found what she needed and lit the large oil lamp that sat upon it.
The added light made half the large room visible. As she’d expected, there were no windows, the room being created in the center of the house. Looking back at the door she came through, it was clear it wasn’t always a secret room, as it was framed in foot-wide walnut. It was probably a pass-through room, like the one at Dory’s new home, where one room led into another, but someone must have walled it up, unless there was another entrance. Actually, finding another exit should be her first priority.
Glad that she’d worn her soft dance slippers so as to make as little noise as possible, she quietly walked across the hardwood floor, using her smaller lantern to shed additional light. As the opposite wall from the desk was revealed, she slowed. Looking back, she judged the distance to be at least thirty feet. Moving closer, she examined the scarred wall. Holes and marks covered it, as if someone had used it to practice with the weapons in the room. Once more she turned back to view the various weaponry now revealed. If Leighhall did indeed know how to use each one displayed, he was a much more dangerous man than they had thought.
Unease crept up her back, and she turned her attention to finding another way out. As expected, there was another door opposite the one she’d come in, but where it led to was the question. She hadn’t explored nearly as much of the house as Anthony had, so she would confer with him. Still, if needed, she had an escape plan.
As the room itself held little besides old weapons, the practice wall, and the desk, she strode back to the desk, anxious to learn what she could and leave before too many people woke. There were three drawers on each side, but the top was littered with papers. Ads from theLondon Gazetteand theMorningPostcluttered one side, while drawings of weapons sketched on paper were on the other. In the center was the inkwell and plume, as well as what looked like opened letters.
Careful not to move anything, she read what she could see. There were many pleasantries and a few references to weapons and gratefulness, but she couldn’t read who they were from. One described a sexual exploit that included a basket from Asia, which she couldn’t figure out, nor did she wish to. Finally, she carefully lifted a letter to see who the one beneath was from. Lady Amherst’s name caught her attention. Skimming it, she found it simply an invitation, though rather explicit, to her home while her husband was in Town.
She was far more interested in the weapons than Leighhall’s sexual adventures. Finding a letter mentioning the sword break, she gently lifted the one above it. It was instructions for receiving the weapon. Looking at the signature, her breath caught. It was signed with a very flamboyant letter P. Surely it couldn’t be for Prinny, the regent. He would sign it with his name, or His Highness, or some such moniker, wouldn’t he?
Anxious to learn more, she searched for more correspondence about weapons. Her gaze alighted on the word “musket,” and she’d reached out to lift the paper above it when a sound at the door she’d entered stopped her. She snapped her head toward the other door, marking where it was before dousing the lantern on the desk.
As the door began to open, she dropped to the floor, extinguishing the flame of her own lantern as she crouched in the darkness. Was there a lantern at the door she’d missed that would soon flood the room with light? Even at the thought, her heart raced and she searched for a story to tell Leighhall if he found her.
The man walked slowly across the floor as if searching the shadows, a small amount of light from his lantern reflectingoff the ceiling above her. As the footsteps grew louder, she pulled herself into a small ball beneath the desk. Her breathing escalated, making it hard to stay silent. She needed to remain calm.
It was no different than the night she’d hidden from soldiers who searched an abandoned home for valuables, not knowing she’d already taken what little there was. That night she escaped through a window by dousing their candles. She could do the same here if she had to.
With a plan in mind, her panic subsided, and she waited for her moment.
The footsteps drew closer, and she prepared herself. They stopped behind the desk, the light shifting over the top of it as if Leighhall searched for one letter in particular. Maybe he would find it and leave.
She watched the man’s trousers where they touched his shoes, moving to the right as he shifted his weight. As long as he didn’t decide to sit and pull the chair in, or push the chair in when he left, she might make it through with no detection.
A soft whistle left the man’s lips above her.
Why would he do that?
His shadow grew larger as he bent to open the lowest drawer. The light scent of clove reached her. Had Leighhall been talking to Anthony? If so, Anthony would be worried about where she was.
As the lowest drawer shut, she heard a sniff. “Lissa?” Even as recognition dawned for her, he crouched low and stared at her. “What are you doing in here?” Though his voice was low, his surprise was clear.
Relief flooded her, and she smirked. “The same thing you are.”
“Come out from there.” He rose and lowered his hand to help her to stand.
She didn’t need it, but was happy to accept. He had a strong grip that she appreciated. As soon as she stood next to him, she nodded to the top of the desk. “Some of these letters are about the weapons.”
“I noticed. At least from what I could see without moving them.” He let go of her hand to point below. “I believe the top drawers have the most important information, as they are locked.”
“That’s not a problem.” She pulled her hairpin from her pocket and held it up.
He grasped her wrist. “Not now. When I came inside here, the servants were stoking the fires. We need to leave and come back this afternoon when Leighhall invites us to use the various rooms.”
“That’s a good plan.” When he released her arm, she dropped the hairpin back into her pocket. “Maybe then we can discover where the other door goes to.”
“Other door?”
“Yes. It’s directly across from the one you came in.”
He looked in the appropriate direction, but his lantern was far too low to see it. “We shall do that as well. But now we must leave.”
Since her lantern was doused, she followed him as he led them back to the door. She couldn’t help asking before he opened it, “You’re not angry that I came in here without you?”
