Page 62 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
She frowned. There was something metal sticking out of the wall. It was something like a knob or a lever, and her heart started to pound. She lifted her hand again until she located the knob, and then she reached for it with both hands, exploring it in the almost-complete dark.
It was a metal knob, about the size of a doorknob. She gripped it and tried turning it, and then tried pulling it. Nothing happened.
She sobbed again, desperately. She had to get out! She grappled with the knob, turning and twisting, but her hands moved on the smooth, cold surface and nothing moved. She pulled it again, and then, in desperation and rage, she stood and kicked it, a wordless yell of anger bursting from her.
Something moved.
There was a slight sound, like a grating, grinding noise, and Emmeline kicked the knob again. This time, she could not doubt it. Something was moving. A section of the wall was moving inwards, turning. Her heart soared as, gratingly, slowly, began to slide inwards.
“It’s moving!” she murmured, hope rekindling as she prepared to step forward.
There was a way out.
Tears moved slowly down her cheeks as she cried out of gratitude and relief. It had been so close! She could have taken the other tunnel and perhaps never found a way out, or she could have gone back and wasted hours fruitlessly hitting against the outer door. It was a miracle that she had found it at all.
The door slid and grated and stuck. Emmeline wriggled forward. The daylight blinded her eyes. The gap was just big enough for her to slide through. Her dress tore as she wriggled through, but it didn’t matter. She blinked in the sudden light and tried to work out where she was.
She was sitting on the floor in what looked like a hallway. The floor was wooden and dusty, and she gazed up at the ceiling high overhead. There were windows on one side, letting in rich, warm daylight and she shut her eyes for a moment in quiet appreciation. Then she stood up and started to run. The hallway was one she recognised—it was downstairs, in the part of the building that linked the dining room and library to the old ballroom. Andrew had told her never to go there because it was dangerous; the ceiling was starting to cave in, and it was forbidden to enter there. She ran down the hallway, her heart pounding with new fear. Ambrose and Lydia did not know she had escaped, but the moment they saw her she was in danger again. They had locked her in there, in all likelihood believing she would never get out. If they were desperate enough to kill someone in such a horrid manner to protect their secrets, then they were desperate enough to try again if they found out that they had failed. Her hands sweating, heart pounding, she ran in earnest down the hallway.
“Andrew!”
The library door was open, and she spotted him standing there, his head tilted back as he gazed up at the ceiling. He turned and saw her, and his eyes widened in concern and shock.
“Emmeline!” he exclaimed. “Whatever happened?”
“Andrew!” She ran to him and threw herself into his arms, clinging desperately to him. Now that she was with him and safe, the fear crashedin on her, insurmountable and debilitating. She was shivering, sobbing, clinging to his coat. He held her and she leaned against his shirt-clad chest and cried.
“Emmeline,” he murmured. His voice was low with concern, and he held her tight. “What happened? What just happened?”
“Shut the door, please, Andrew,” she asked, gazing up at him. “Please. Lock it too, if you can.”
“Of course,” Andrew replied gently. He went to the door and shut it, then she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. She slumped against the wall, exhaustion making her legs give way.
Andrew ran to her, crouching down on the floor.
“Emmeline!” he called urgently. “What is the matter? What happened? Do you need a physician? Are you ill?”
“No,” Emmeline whispered. She was so tired. Now that she was safe, all she wanted to do was to sleep. “It’s Ambrose and Lydia,” she told him in hushed tones. “They are plotting to kill you. Please be careful. They locked me in a tunnel. I heard them talking. I...” She could not speak anymore; a sob catching her throat. “I’m so cold and tired and it wasterrifying, Andrew,” she sobbed. “It was so frightening in there. I thought I would never escape. I thought...I thought I’d never see you again.” She looked up at him, each line of his face more precious than she had remembered.
“Emmeline,” Andrew said gently. He stroked her hair, his other hand resting on her shoulder, holding her upright. “Shh. It’s all right. Please tell me again slowly. I don’t think I followed what you said.” His face was a picture of confusion and fear.
Emmeline took a breath, trying to fight the sobs that seemingly would not stop.
“I heard Ambrose and Lydia talking,” she began. “They were in the drawing room. I hadn’t meant to spy, but when I heard them talking about you, I stayed to listen. They were saying that they had to act quickly. That they had to...to depose you soon. Before you acquire an heir.” Her heart thudded. “They caught me listening. Lydia did. And Ambrose. He...he...” She started sobbing again. “He shut me in a tunnel. It was so dark in there, and the walls were stone and I thought I would never escape.”
Andrew’s gaze had been wide with disbelief, but when she said what Ambrose had done to her, his eyes narrowed.
“That wicked...” he trailed off. His hand ceased stroking her hair, clenching into a fist. “When I catch him, he will know what suffering is.”
Emmeline blinked in surprise. She had never heard Andrew speak so strongly about anything. She gazed into his eyes, and he stared back.
“He could have killed you.” His voice was thick with feeling. “He tried to. I cannot forgive him any of what he has done, but mostly I cannot forgive him that.” He reached for her and held her close.
Emmeline blinked in surprise, and it was only after a few seconds, after the bliss of feeling his warm arms crushing her close had settled that she realised something.
“You cannot forgive him any of what he has done?” she repeated. “What did he do?”
Andrew looked at her. His blue eyes were drained of emotion—he looked so angry that there was nothing left except a sort of arid coldness.
