“Enough.We can apportion blame all day long, but that will not change the past or protect our future.Thus, we must consider what comes next.Friedrich Albrecht will retaliate for this humiliation.We know he has connections with the French occupation.Therefore, we must assume he will send serious trouble to our door.”
As if summoned by the words, the sound of horses came from the drive.Lise rushed to the window, but Jonathan guessed what she would see and jumped to his feet.When she gasped and turned back, her expression made his blood run cold.
“It’s the French,” she confirmed, turning to the window again.“A dozen soldiers in the forecourt.Papa, some have ridden around either side of the house.”
Her father’s face hardened as he rose quickly from his chair.“Stay calm, please.Both of you stay here,” he addressed his womenfolk.“Bowen, come with me.”
“Papa, they’ll come inside to search,” Lise said, her gaze locked on Jonathan’s, making his heart squeeze at causing her fear.
“I’m aware,” her father said grimly.“Don’t worry about Lord Bowen.Stay here and say nothing unless you’re directly addressed.And if you are, you havenotseen an English spy.Elsabeth, Lise, do you understand?”Then Herr von Ostenfeld picked up one of the coffee cups and left the room.
Jonathan looked at Lise one last time before going with her father.He knew the man wouldn’t take him to the front door and hand him over, but he didn’t expect Herr von Ostenfeld to hurry toward the kitchen, where he handed the cup to the scullery maid.Only then did Jonathan realize its existence in the drawing room might have been a telltale sign.
Once there, Lise’s father addressed Frau Becker.“Take our guest to the cellar.The seven years’ section.Hurry.”
Jonathan hesitated.The last thing he wanted was to be locked in another cellar.
“Trust me, my lord,” Lise’s father said, upon seeing his reluctance, then he strode away.Down the hall, Hans was waiting to be told when to open the door, but the soldiers were already pounding upon it.
Jonathan looked at the cook, who swiftly lit a lantern.
“Come,” she said.
He followed her to the larder.At the back was a narrow door and a flight of stone steps.Unlike the manor house in Lübeck, the von Ostenfeld’s cellar was clean and in use.One wall was fitted with wine racks.The other had shelves filled with wide-mouthed glass jars of pickled and preserved goods.There were wooden bins of apples that would stay fresh for months and baskets of root vegetables.
He saw all this in a blur as the cook kept moving toward ...a wall?
“Hold this, my lord,” she said before thrusting the lamp toward him.Then, to his amazement, she pushed against what appeared to be solid rock.And it moved!They could hear boots above them now, so without any urging, he hurried inside what turned out to be a small chamber.
“Stay quiet and no one will find you.”
He used the lamp to take in the six-foot-by-six-foot space.At least the ceiling was over his head by about three feet, and the place was dry.Still, it had all the makings of a tomb.And there was no window, so he would be in utter darkness.
His accommodations kept getting worse,he thought.So much for the privileges of being a viscount.
Upon trying to give the cook back her lamp, however, she declined.“You may keep it.Don’t worry.No light will show through, and I can find my way around this entire house with my eyes shut.”
With that last word, she pushed the fake stone wall into place with her strong arms, sealing him inside.
Well!
He thought to be in complete silence, but no.As soon as Jonathan was alone, he became aware that the drawing room was over his head, the very same in which mere minutes ago he’d been seated.Moreover, he could hear the conversation taking place as if he was still there with the occupants.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” came Lise’s father’s voice.“To what do we owe this unexpected visit?”
“Herr von Ostenfeld.”The French captain’s voice was smooth and authoritative.“We have received intelligence that you may be harboring a British spy.We are here to search your property.”
“A British spy?”Her father’s voice was the epitome of perfectly modulated surprise.“Certainly not.You’re welcome to search, of course, though I must protest this unwarranted intrusion.”
“Your protest is noted.My men have already started the search.Every room, every closet, every cupboard.They will find this man.”
Even from the cellar, he could hear footsteps thundering along the hallway to the back of the house and up the main stairs.Doors slammed, there was much shouting in French.Jonathan hoped they weren’t too spirited and enthusiastic.There was no need to break furniture or plates.He knew how Herr von Ostenfeld liked the symbols of his wealth, including his fine porcelain dinnerware.
And then he heard someone come down the steps to the cellar.Holding his breath, he pictured the soldier on the other side of the wall and wished he’d blown out the candle in the lantern.After a few moments, however, he heard the boots retreating up the stairs.
“Papa?”Lise’s voice came distinctly through the floor, worried, asking silently what she couldn’t say out loud.She was wondering where Jonathan was hiding.No one answered her.
He imagined the footsteps he heard were hers, light and pacing back and forth.Proven right when Frau von Ostenfeld said, “Please, Lise, sit down.”
