Page 55 of The Hidden Lord
The line, formed by iron oxide deposits or mineral-stained runoff in the stone, guided them to the beginning of a hidden path. Steep, moss-covered steps had been carved into the cliff face, so thoroughly concealed by centuries of overgrowth that they would have been invisible to anyone not following the exact trail prescribed by their deciphered message. The carved pathway descended toward the beach far below.
Henri felt a surge of triumph and excitement that momentarily overwhelmed all her concerns about Gabriel’s recent distance. “We did it,” she said, turning to face him with a smile that felt genuine for the first time in days. “We actually solved it. We found the pathway that has been hidden here for centuries, leading down to the sea.”
Acting on impulse, Henri reached up to kiss Gabriel, her lips seeking his in a moment of shared celebration. For just an instant, she felt him respond, his body solid against hers in the cold moonlight. But then, abruptly, he pulled away, his hands coming up to create distance between them.
The rejection hit Henri hard, all her fears about their deteriorating relationship crystallizing in that single moment of withdrawal. “Gabriel?” she said uncertainly, searching his face for some explanation of his behavior.
But Gabriel had already turned his attention back to the hidden path, his expression closed and unreadable in the moonlight. “We should begin the descent,” he said, carefully even. “We do not know how long these steps might be, and we need to discover what lies at the bottom before the moon sets.”
Henri felt tears prick her eyes, though whether from hurt, frustration, or the cold wind that swept up from the sea, she could not be certain. The moment that should have represented the culmination of their partnership had instead highlighted everything that was wrong between them.
Still, she had little choice but to follow Gabriel as he began the descent down the moss-covered steps. The carved pathway was narrow and uneven, requiring careful placement of each foot to avoid the patches of slippery stone where centuries of sea spray had worn them smooth. Overgrowth only added to the challenge.
As they made their way down the hidden stairs toward whatever revelation awaited them at the bottom, Henri could not shake the feeling that they were descending toward more than just the solution to an ancient puzzle. Something fundamental was changing between them, and she feared that by the time they reached their destination, the fragile bond they had begun to forge might be lost forever.
The moonlight continued to illuminate their path, casting their shadows long and strange against the ancient stone. Below them, the sound of waves grew louder with each step, promising that their journey was far from over. Whatever secrets lay hidden at the bottom of this cliffside passage, Henri could only hope that discovering them might also provide some insight into the mystery of her husband’s increasingly distant heart.
But as Gabriel continued his careful descent ahead of her, his attention focused entirely on the practical challenges of navigating the steep path, Henri could not escape the growing certainty that it was more than exhaustion or caution driving his withdrawal. There was a tension in his movements, a quality of anticipation or dread that suggested he knew more about things than he had shared with her.
The thought gnawed at Henri. If Gabriel was still keeping secrets from her at such a crucial moment, then perhaps their partnership had been an illusion all along. Perhaps she had been fooling herself about the possibility of true intimacy with a man who was incapable of letting anyone past his scrupulously constructed defenses.
As they descended deeper into the darkness toward whatever awaited them at the bottom of the hidden path, Henri clung to hope that the revelations to come might finally provide the answers she desperately needed. Not just about the ancient mystery they were pursuing, but about the enigmatic man who was now her husband and whether their marriage had any chance of surviving the secrets that surrounded him like shadows.
Gabriel feltthe weight of his decision pressing down on him like the cold Cornish mist that had begun to rise from the sea.
What have I done?
The thought had been haunting him for days now, ever since they had left London and begun this increasingly perilous quest. What had started as a pursuit of answers about Horace’s murder had transformed into something far more complex and dangerous, with Henri caught in the middle through no fault of her own except her unfortunate presence in Danbury’s library that fateful morning.
Gabriel had been wrestling with guilt that grew heavier with each mile they traveled. Henri deserved to know why he had dragged her into this investigation, why solving this ancient mystery had become so crucial to him that he was willing to risk both their lives. The promise he had made to share his reasonshung between them like an unspoken debt, one that he found himself ever more reluctant to pay.
How could he explain Horace to her? How could he put into words what the gentle scholar had meant to a lonely boy who had been cast aside by his own family? The very thought of discussing his tutor brought back all the complicated emotions Gabriel had spent years suppressing. The grief, the loss, the desperate need for justice that drove him forward even when logic suggested retreat.
His grandfather’s disdainful dismissal had been particularly cruel in recent dreams, the old viscount’s cold scorn echoing through Gabriel’s restless sleep.“Weak, pathetic boy. Look at what your sentiment has brought you to. Endangering an innocent woman for the sake of a dead man who meant nothing to anyone of consequence.”Gabriel had awakened from such dreams with his heart racing and his clothes damp with perspiration, the familiar shame of childhood inadequacy washing over him anew.
I should send her home,Gabriel thought as he watched Henri examine the carved steps with scientific curiosity.I should put her in the carriage and send her to Trenwith Abbey.But he knew with crushing certainty that Henri would never agree to abandon their quest now, not when they were so close to uncovering whatever truth lay hidden in this ancient puzzle.
Gabriel stepped carefully onto the next of the moss-covered stones, narrow and uneven, and carved by hands that had valued concealment over safety. And the growing darkness made it difficult to judge distances accurately.
“Wait,” Gabriel called softly to Henri, his voice tight with concern. “Let me go first. These steps are dangerous, and I want to go ahead to ensure the way is passable.”
He could sense the protest forming on Henri’s lips, but Gabriel was already moving away from her, testing eachstep before committing his full weight. The thought of Henri tumbling down the cliff face made his stomach clench with a fear more profound than any he had experienced on any battlefield.
Every few steps, Gabriel paused to look back, waving Henri forward and then observing her progress with the intensity of a man whose entire world depended on her safety. Her movements were careful and deliberate, but he could see how the mist was making her task more difficult, how her skirts caught on the irregular stone edges, how her gloved hands struggled to find purchase on the slippery surfaces.
“Careful,” Gabriel murmured each time Henri navigated a particularly tricky section, though he knew his warnings did little to address the fundamental peril of their situation. “Test each step before you trust it.”
The descent felt like it took an eternity, though Gabriel knew it could not have been more than ten or fifteen minutes before they reached a narrow ledge that jutted out from the cliff face. Below them, the sea churned against the rocks with hypnotic violence, while ahead lay what appeared to be a crack in the cliff face—a dark hollow in the stone, wide enough to walk into, yet all but invisible, likely even from the deck of a passing boat.
Gabriel lifted his lantern higher, and the additional light revealed something that made his breath catch. There, carved into the stone at the entrance to the fissure, was an unmistakable marking. The circle and odd intersecting crucifix.
“This is it,” Gabriel said quietly, though even as he spoke the words, a deeper uncertainty gnawed at him. They had followed the ancient clues successfully, deciphered the messages left by someone centuries ago, and now stood at what appeared to be their destination. But what did any of this have to do with Horace’s murder? How could a Renaissance-era puzzle be connected to the death of a gentle Oxford scholar in modern times?
Horace, old friend,Gabriel thought with a mixture of affection and desperation,what were you involved in that cost you your life?
Standing on this windswept ledge in Cornwall, pursuing clues that predated Horace’s birth by centuries, Gabriel felt more confused than ever. Yet he owed it to the man who had raised him, no matter how perplexing the trail might become.
Gabriel raised his lantern toward the cave entrance, noting how the tide had exposed what appeared to be a navigable passage into the hollow rock. But as they prepared to enter, the wind shifted suddenly, carrying with it a deep, resonant sound that echoed from the depths of the cave itself.
