Page 80 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
There was no escape!
“Excellent!” declared Lady Balmore. “Now, we need ten minutes head start. No one should come looking for us until we’re well away.”
Whisking them both before her, Arabella ushered them into the hallway.
“Now, my dears, as quickly as you can, follow me. I know just the place!”
Chapter Nineteen
Mid-evening, 20th December
“Down there?”Rye squinted through the darkness beyond the door.
“Yes, go carefully on the steps. They’re rather old and worn. Centuries of castle feet scraping up and down—although more down than up, of course, this being the dungeon.” Arabella gave a tinkling laugh.
“It is a good hiding place, I s’pose.” He gave Ursula’s hand a tug. She’d gone mighty quiet and didn’t seem at all keen on the game. It was the shock of the proposal, he guessed—and then the awkwardness of the whole room suddenly turning to look at them.
He knew ladies liked to take their time in deciding to become engaged and, despite his best intentions, he’d tumbled everything out like a man spilling his guts after one too many beers. Not the suavest of proposals, he had to admit—reminding her that she might have a bun in the oven.
Goddam, Rye. You could’ve done better!
But it couldn’t be helped. He’d simply have to make it up to her.
If his grandmother could round up the pastor, they’d have a real Christmas wedding, with the bells ringing out for their happiness, as well as the day of Jesus’ birth. Wouldn’t that be something.
Arabella handed him a stump of candle and struck a match, taking an oil lamp for herself. “No one comes down here much, with it being so damp. No fireplaces for heating, just an old brazier the gaoler used to light.”
She held up her lamp, leading them downward. “Best of all, there’s a secret hiding place—one hardly anyone knows about. Brodie was excavating down here a few years ago and found what he thought was an old well, but the passageway leads to a hidden chamber. It’s where they must have stashed the prisoners they really never wanted to lay eyes upon again. There were some remains…” Arabella lingered over the word, “But we had those removed, of course.”
Rye felt Ursula shiver. Her eyes looked huge and her face so pale.
Was she afraid of the dark? He wasn’t usually himself, but this place was darned spooky—and thinking about the poor wretches who’d been incarcerated made it worse.
“Chop, chop!” Arabella looked back at them. “We’re almost there.”
Reaching the bottom, she guided them through a narrow passageway, past several anterooms, until her illumination revealed a solid granite wall.
They could go no further, and he saw no sign of a well.
“Under our feet,” Arabella lowered the lamp. “You see?” She kicked at the straw rushes that had been scattered over the earthen floor.
Bending, Rye made out the edges of something round and a good three feet in diameter.
“It’s a lid of sorts,” Arabella explained. “If we lift it, you’ll see a rope ladder. Brodie attached it, to make it easier to get up and down. There’s a drop of about ten feet and then you’re in the chamber.”
“They sure didn’t do things by halves, did they.” Working his fingers around the rim of the wooden cover, he prised it upward. Below, the darkness was palpable.
“You’re sure about this Aunt Arabella?” Rye grimaced. “You don’t think this might be going a little far?”
“Nonsense! Where’s your spirit of fun?” Holding the lamp over the hole, she placed her hand on Rye’s shoulder. “If you wouldn’t mind going first; when you reach the bottom, you can keep the ladder steady for us to follow.”
“As I’m the one wearing the kilt, that’s probably the best idea.” He laughed nervously then cleared his throat.
Passing the candle to Ursula, he lowered himself down. Sure enough, the rope seemed strong enough to hold him and, within a minute, he’d found the bottom.
“All safe and sound,” he called up. “Come on, Ursula, I’m holding the ladder. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I don’t want to.” Ursula’s voice quivered.
