Page 59 of The Hidden Lord
“There is a manor house built on a cliff called Grimsfell Hall,” Gabriel reported, consulting notes he had made during hisconversations. “According to the locals, it is sometimes rented out during the summer months, but most people in the area prefer to avoid it.”
“Why?” Henri asked, genuinely curious despite her personal frustrations.
“They believe it is haunted,” Gabriel replied, his tone suggesting he found superstitions more amusing than concerning. “The hall is old. Built during the Tudor period, and the locals claim that one can sometimes hear organ music carried on the wind, even when the building is closed up.”
Henri felt a surge of excitement that momentarily overrode her anger with him. “She waits where the grim fell sings. Let thy hands match hers,” she quoted from their deciphered message. “Gabriel, this must be the place! The person who set the code would have been limited to words found in the Malory manuscript which is why they could not name the hall directly. If there is an organ at Grimsfell Hall, and the locals can hear it even when the building is supposedly empty …”
“The connection does seem promising,” Gabriel agreed, though Henri could already see his mind shifting to the practicalities of travel and lodging rather than sharing her delight in the discovery. “There is a solicitor who lets the property during the summer months. I hope he will be able to give us access.”
Henri settled back in her seat as Gabriel departed to find the solicitor’s office, but her excitement was tempered by the growing certainty that Gabriel would continue to treat her as a useful but ultimately dispensable assistant rather than a true partner in their investigation. Each success in solving the ancient puzzle only served to further highlight the fundamental failure of their burgeoning marriage.
Will I never break through the walls he’s constructed around his heart?
Perhaps she overestimated her ability to draw him out, lured in by the vulnerability she had witnessed that first night they had made love. An openness that she had not perceived since their return to England.
CHAPTER 19
“Lo, fair lords, how falsehood is always to be dreaded.”
Sir Thomas Malory,Le Morte d’Arthur
Henri spotted Gabriel returning to their carriage at The Grim Shepherd with the satisfied air of a man who had successfully completed a complex negotiation. She had spent the intervening hour alternating between studying their sketches and rubbings and watching the local patrons with the kind of anthropological interest that helped distract her from her growing catalog of marital grievances.
“Success,” Gabriel announced as he settled back into their carriage, producing an ornate iron key from his coat pocket. “The hall’s caretaker was surprisingly accommodating once I explained our interest in renting the property for the remainder of the winter season.”
Henri examined the key with interest, noting its age and elaborate craftsmanship. “He agreed to let us inspect the premises before committing to a lease?”
“Indeed. Apparently, Grimsfell Hall has remained empty for the past several months, and the owners are eager to secure tenants even during the off-season.” Gabriel pocketed the key and signaled their driver to proceed. “The caretaker seemed particularly pleased by the prospect of winter occupancy, though he did feel obligated to warn us about the hall’s … atmospheric peculiarities.”
Henri raised an eyebrow at Gabriel’s phrasing. “You mean the ghostly organ music?”
“Among other things,” Gabriel replied with the kind of dry understatement that suggested he placed little credence in local superstitions. “According to the caretaker, the hall has acquired quite a reputation for supernatural activity over the years. Previous tenants have reported strange sounds, cold drafts in closed rooms, and the occasional sighting of a woman in antique dress wandering the corridors.”
“How conveniently dramatic,” Henri observed, though she had to admit that such stories would certainly discourage casual curiosity about the property. “Did the caretaker mention anything specific about the organ?”
Gabriel consulted his notes from the conversation. “He confirmed that there is indeed an organ somewhere in the hall, though he seemed oddly vague about its exact location. When I pressed for details, he mentioned something about the old chapel but became quite evasive when I asked for more specific directions.”
Henri found Gabriel’s report intriguing despite her frustrations with him. The combination of local superstition and deliberately vague information suggested that Grimsfell Hall might indeed hold the secrets they were seeking, assuming theycould overcome whatever obstacles had been placed in the way of discovery.
Their carriage wound along increasingly narrow roads that hugged the dramatic Cornish coastline, with the sound of crashing waves providing a constant reminder of their proximity to the sea. As they traveled, Henri began to understand why visitors might find Grimsfell Hall an unsettling place. The landscape itself had a wild, untamed quality that seemed to dwarf human attempts at domestication.
When the hall finally came into view, Henri felt her breath catch at the sheer dramatic impact of its setting. It was a substantial Tudor manor house built of weathered gray stone, its multiple chimneys and elaborate windows speaking to the wealth and ambition of its original builders. But what made the structure truly striking was its position on very nearly the edge of a prominent cliff, with endless views of the frothing sea stretching to the horizon.
The building seemed to grow directly from the rock itself, as though centuries of wind and weather had shaped both the natural cliff and the human construction into a single, integrated whole. Henri could see why the locals might attribute supernatural qualities to such a place. The hall was otherworldly, commanding its dramatic perch above the churning waters below.
“Grimsfell, indeed,” Henri murmured as their carriage drew to a halt in the manor’s courtyard.
The wind that swept up from the sea was unlike anything Henri had experienced in their previous travels, carrying with it the sound of waves crashing against the rocks far below and creating an eerie whistling effect as it passed through the hall’s elaborate stonework system. Even from outside the building, Henri could hear the way the wind seemed to find every gap and crevice in the ancient structure, creating a symphony ofhaunting sounds that would indeed be unnerving to anyone not expecting them.
Gabriel helped Henri down and produced the caretaker’s key, leading the way to the hall’s main entrance with his characteristic purposeful stride. The heavy wooden door did not creak in protest despite what must be years of disuse, opening to reveal an interior that was both grand and somehow melancholy in its abandonment. The caretaker must have been especially diligent to maintain the property so well despite it standing empty for most of the year.
“Impressive,” Gabriel observed as they stepped into the main hall, their footsteps echoing in the vast space.
Henri had to agree. Notwithstanding its current lack of habitants, Grimsfell Hall retained the unmistakable marks of its Tudor origins. Carved oak paneling, tall, mullioned windows overlooking the sea, and a molded plaster ceiling overhead, beneath which heavy timbers likely bore the weight of centuries. The furnishings were draped in dust sheets, giving the rooms the hushed expectancy of a stage awaiting its actors.
Gabriel immediately pulled out their sketch of the cave carving, studying the image of the four-paned window with its depiction of a woman playing an organ. “According to this, we should be looking for a chapel or music room, probably somewhere that would have acoustic properties suitable for an organ installation.”
Henri nodded her agreement, though she found herself wondering how they would search such a large and complex building systematically. “The caretaker mentioned an old chapel. Perhaps we should begin by trying to locate that specific room.”
