“But it is a test! A test of your soul, to find out if you are worthy of being a true heroine! Are you worthy, Pleasant?”
She drew in a sharp, trembling breath. “I pray so, Emily!”
“Then tell Miss Darlington what I said.”
“I shall!”
“I’ll return in a while.”
“Fare thee well, noble spirit of the moors.”
“Right. See you soon.”
There was a shuffle and a scrape in the darkness, then a faint creak as if from hinges. Pleasance saw a glance of soft golden light, just as she imagined must infuse the holy netherworld. She clutched her hands together against her heart. Then, with a carefully unhurried gait, she crossed to Miss Darlington and crouched down.
“That Italian assassin was just here, miss,” she whispered to the old lady. “He came through a secret door behind the wine racks. It looks like it leads to a servant’s corridor. Kitchens beyond, from the smell of it.”
“What did he want?” Miss Darlington asked without opening her eyes.
“To buy your cooperation with Miss Bassingthwaite’s life.”
“So the lackey plans to overthrow his master. Thus go the inevitabilities of men. What did he say about Cecilia?”
“That she was in the abbey, miss.”
Miss Darlington opened one eye. “Is that so? What a troublesome development. Gather the troops, Pleasance.”
“With respect, miss, I don’t think they’ll all get through the secret door without being noticed.”
“Nonsense, gel. There are three secret doors leading out of this cellar, not to mention a secret hatch in the ceiling. We have remained here only to rest and get our meals served to us. But if Cecilia is on board, there is no more time to waste. Tally ho.”
“Tally ho,” Pleasance whispered, and hurried away to spread the word.
16
breakfast with the devil—ladies’ duel—a reunion,a recollection—explosions (porcelain, heroine)—escape (fast, futile)—ned throws cecilia into danger
Cecilia was mortally sorry the breakfast room door was not worth knocking down. But she would rather be dignified than happy, so she gently pushed it ajar, then stepped back in order that her armed escort might enter first.
He shook his head and indicated with his rifle that no, no, she should precede him.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and he almost smiled in reply before remembering he was a hardened thug. She entered the breakfast room—
And came face-to-face with her greatest foe.
“Jane Fairweather,” she said, her eyes darkening as she regarded the tight-haired woman standing before her with a plate of food. “Good morning.”
“Cecilia Morvath,” Jane replied. Her mouth shifted to one side in an approximation of a smile. “My dear, how lovely to see you. Andlooking so youthful with your hair down. Why, no one would guess you are any more than sixteen.”
The other people in the room held their breath.
“That is a charming example of the graciousness one can always expect from you, Jane dear,” Cecilia said. “In return, may I offer that age is treating you well? I imagine not having robbed any banks is good for the complexion.”
Jane paled but nevertheless managed to sharpen her smile. “I do declare, you yourself appear in excellent health, despite your aunt’s regular concern. Those few extra pounds you’ve put on suit you.”
A gasp went up from the witnesses.
“How kind,” Cecilia said. “And I’m glad I needn’t have feared for your own health after all, as I see you now quite safe and unfettered in my father’s lair, partaking of his hospitality—and his toast and marmalade and eggs and ham and kippers and, goodness me, steak cutlets. I envy one with such a hearty appetite who can yet remain so exceedingly thin.”
