Page 33 of A Duke Under Her Spell
Felix was reminded of how he had felt when his father had died, leaving his only son to rule the dukedom. It had been exceedingly difficult for Felix emotionally to overcome the feeling of emptiness his father’s absence had wrought, but his mother had been instrumental in helping him to regain his internal balance. Marybeth had no such person remaining in her life.
Perhaps we could offer a similar safe haven for her here at Arkley Hall, were we to apprehend the intruder and bring about an end to his reign of fear.
He found that he liked the idea of having Marybeth around for an extended period of time in spite of the anxiety she had thus far caused him. Her strength and courage were an amazement to him. His admiration of her skills as a healer had grown to encompass more of her attributes as well. She was beautiful to be sure, but what he admired most was her intelligence and spirit. As much as he chastised her for her brazen disregard of her own safety, Felix secretly admired her for it.
As he stood in the dressing room, he could feel her presence in the next room pulling him toward her as if an invisible string connected them to one another. Her pull was irresistible, and he moved to stand in front of the doorway. He watched her tend to the Dowager Duchess with compassionate ease administering her herbal teas and tonics. He knew that when she had finished helping his mother as best as she was able, she would return home to the forest, leaving his care.
The thought distressed him somewhat.I must wed Lady Cordelia Weatherton. I do not have the freedom to choose otherwise, as a nobleman of my standing is required to wed a lady of comparable station. If I were free to choose, Marybeth Wright would certainly make for an interesting bride. The county would not know what to do were I to marry the woman they consider to be the witch of the forest.The thought of Marybeth as his duchess caused him to smile.If only such a thing were possible.
Marybeth caught him looking at her and smiled in return. He was glad that they had found a way to resolve their difference in opinion on the matter of her safety and he hoped that she would respect his wishes on the matter in the future.
One can only hope.
Turning back to the men at work on the wall, he considered all of the options available to him in the apprehension of their unwanted visitor. He had considered leaving the holes in the walls and having armed guards in front of them at all times, but with the afternoon’s events this method had proven to be unwise.
Perhaps posting a guard at Blackleigh Castle could prove to be fruitful.
Leaving the dressing room, he returned to the hallway and made his way down to the servant’s back stairs, where the other hole was being repaired. The men were first repairing the wooden floor that had fallen through into the tunnel below. They would then repair the wall itself. Fortunately, the wall was made of simple materials such as plaster and paint. It would have been much more time consuming to have replaced a papered wall.
Mr. Wheatly stood overseeing the repairs with a critical eye, standing guard with his pistol at the ready. Felix was grateful to the older man for his diligence and support during such a difficult time. He doubted anyone would sleep soundly again until the culprit in the walls was apprehended.
If only we could ascertain his method of entry.
Stepping forward, he spoke to the butler. “Mr. Wheatly.”
“Your Grace,” he answered nodding his head in acknowledgment.
“How would you feel about posting a guard at the opposite end of the tunnel at Blackleigh Castle? Do we have the men to spare?”
“It would be a tight rotation with guarding the house and the castle, Your Grace, but we could manage it if we utilized all of the footmen and groomsmen.”
“Let us do so then. If I must hire more men from the estate, then I shall but let us begin with those we know and trust.”
“I will see to it immediately, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wheatly.”
Oliver Singer’s head poked out from the hole in the wall on the opposite side from where they had previously explored. His face was equal parts seriousness and excitement, an odd combination to be sure, but also telling in its intensity. “Your Grace, there is something here which you must see.”
Chapter 13
Oliver stepped out from behind the wall, walking around the working men, and motioned for the Duke to follow him the rest of the way down the servants’ stairs. At the bottom he leaned against the wall, pushing here and there in an attempt to discover a secret door. “It must be here somewhere,” he mused running his hands over every surface. Not finding what he sought he requested that the Duke remain where he stood and bounded back up the stairs and into the passageway once more.
He traveled to the end of the passageway and into a wider space that bent around a corner then led to a door. He opened the door and stepped into the room beyond. It was little more than a broom closet in size, but within its floor lay a trapdoor to the tunnel beneath and a shelf upon the wall acted as a hidden switch causing the wall to move ever so slightly as it released itself from its neighboring wall. “Now push as I pull, Your Grace,” he called through the paneling.
“Oliver?” the Duke’s voice questioned from the other side.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Oliver confirmed that it was indeed him that spoke and then began pulling on the panel. The wall popped back a small space and then began sliding behind the other wall. The Duke stood on the other side a surprised look on his face.
“How many times have we walked by this very wall and knew naught of what lie behind it?”
“A lifetime, Your Grace,” Oliver answered shaking his head in dismay. Turning away from the opening he leaned down and pulled up on the trap door. The dark pit loomed beneath the wood flooring.
“Is this how he is doing it? It does not explain how he manages to disappear so quickly, and someone would have noticed if the wall at the bottom of the stairs was moving at any sort of regularity.”
“I cannot answer that, Your Grace, as I have not found any sign of activity other than my own, but I agree with you that someone would have noticed such a thing. Either there are more doors in the walls as concealed as this one or he is one of us. It is the only explanation that I can find, Your Grace.”
“One of us? Impossible! I trust the men under my employ implicitly. Every man was hand selected for his honorable character or was born under this very roof.”
