Page 25 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“There is very little room to move about for even a smaller man. I fear a knife is all that could possibly be managed with any kind of ease.”
“Oliver might be able to fit into the space. He is not as tall or broad as Your Grace,” Marybeth pointed out. “He is quick and nimble.”
Felix nodded. “Oliver is an excellent choice. He is capable of defending himself were anything to happen.”
Mr. Wheatly departed for the stables to fetch Oliver, while Felix and Marybeth moved back toward the Dowager Duchess’s dressing room. Felix removed the board once more and peered into the darkness to reassure himself that Oliver would not be walking into a trap at the very start of his explorations. When Oliver arrived, they had everything ready for him to enter the passageway.
“I implore you, Oliver, to proceed with caution. We do not know what or who lies behind these walls,” Felix warned, as he handed the groomsman a knife. “Do not hesitate to use this in your own defense should the need arise. Do not be a hero and risk your own safety.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Oliver nodded his head in acceptance. “What shall I do if I encounter the intruder?”
“If you can apprehend him safely then do so, but if you cannot, get out of there as quickly as you can.”
* * *
Oliver nodded at the Duke before disappearing behind the wall with the knife in one hand and a candle to illuminate the way in the other. It was a tight fit. He was not at all sure that he would make it very far, but he knew for everyone’s safety that he must go as far as he could. Easing his way between the two walls, he first looked to see if there was any sign of how the intruder had used the Dowager Duchess’s portrait to spy on Marybeth.
He felt around on the inside of the wall and found two of the knotholes were at the right height. He pressed on them, but they did not move. He pulled on them, but they did not budge. Thinking for a moment he decided to twist one with his knife and it fell off into his hand. He stepped out to show the Duke what he had found.
“That explains the wall, but what about the portrait?” the Duke asked, eyeing the hole in the wall. He picked up the portrait and held it up to the candlelight. Though there were not any holes in the painting, the canvas was thin enough to see the flame through the other side. “So that is how the intruder did it!”
“The dirty scoundrel,” Oliver exclaimed as he shook his head.
“Do you feel ready to go on?” The Duke asked frowning with concern.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Oliver agreed. Returning to the passageway. He moved though the opening, holding the candle out in front of him. The passage was long and dark with cobwebs that tangled in his hair. He prayed that the crawling sensation on his skin were not spiders but his imagination at play.
Clutching the knife in his hand more firmly, he moved as stealthily as the small space would allow. He wished to apprehend the man who had dared to scare Marybeth. He was angry and felt the need to exact punishment upon the scoundrel. He knew the Duke would rather have been the one to enter the passageway and seek out justice on Marybeth’s behalf, but for the first time in his life, Oliver was glad to be a smaller man than the Duke.
The passageway went on a long time before it came to a narrow set of stairs. Oliver had never seen such a narrow staircase and wondered if it coincided with the servant’s staircase at the back of the house or if it stood alone attached to the stone interior structure of the walls. He attempted to climb down the stairs sideways but found that his boots proved to be a hindrance. Unable to bend over to remove them in the small space he did his best to maneuver out of them but failed.
Sighing, he stood thinking what to do for a moment. Standing on the tips of his toes, he tried again to descend the staircase. He did not like the unstable nature of his decent but managed to reach the bottom unscathed. When he placed his foot on the floor at the bottom of the stairs the floor gave way and Oliver found himself being plunged downward into darkness. He landed hard on the packed earthen ground beneath, debris from the floor above all around him.
The candle fell to the earth beside him sputtering, but by some miracle managed to remain lit. Groaning, Oliver sat up and took the candle in hand. He lifted it up above his head and looked about him for any sign as to where he might be. It was certainly not any room within the manor house that he was familiar with. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of dirt. He moved forward attempting to find a door, but instead discovered that it was not a room that he was in, but a tunnel in the ground beneath the house.
He looked up hoping to climb back out the way he had entered but found it to be impossible without the assistance of someone above. He considered yelling for help but doubted anyone would hear him, and he did not wish to advertise to the intruder that he was there if the sound of the fall had not already given him away. Instead, Oliver resigned himself to discovering where the tunnel led.There must be an entrance somewhere.Having lost his knife in the fall, he set off armed with nothing but a candle.
Chapter 9
“Oliver!?” Marybeth called down the length of the dark passageway. She was worried. Oliver had been gone quite a long time and was not responding to any of their calls or taps upon the wall. “Something has happened, Felix. I just know it.”
“Perhaps I should go in after him, Your Grace?” Mr. Wheatly offered. As a man of slight build, he would have fit into the space, but his advanced years would not have served to be in his favor.
“No, Mr. Wheatly. I will not send you into a situation when we have no way of ascertaining the outcome.” Felix stood frowning, staring into the darkness as if he could will their friend to return by sheer determination of spirit. “If he does not return soon, I will begin tearing apart every wall in this house until we find him.”
“Let me go in after him,” Marybeth pleaded.
“No, it is too dangerous. If anyone can make it in and out of such a place, it is Oliver.”
“But what if he has been harmed?” Marybeth rung her hands anxiously in fear. “We cannot just leave him in there.”
“As I said, I have no intentions of leaving young Oliver anywhere of the sort. He will return to us.”
Marybeth studied his face and saw that he meant what he said. She had no doubt that he would tear his own house asunder before allowing anything to befall a single one of the people under his care. His devotion to his people was one of the things she admired most about him. She waited, anxiously pacing back and forth, tending to the Dowager Duchess as needed, then returning to fret and worry over the gaping hole in the wall.
She strained to hear any sign that Oliver was alive and well but heard nothing. The Dowager Duchess called for the Duke and he left the dressing room to tend to her. Marybeth stood for a moment in indecision then grabbed a candle and slipped into the dark passageway. She knew that the Duke would be angered by her disobedience, but she could not stand and wait for another moment.
Marybeth felt her way down the passage attempting to get as far as she could before the Duke realized that she had defied him. The space was filled with cobwebs and smelled of musty old wood. The air was stale and dusty causing her to cough. When the Duke yelled her name, she nearly jumped out of her shoes.
