Page 66 of The Hidden Lord
“The porridge is excellent,” Henri observed, adding cream to her bowl while Gabriel examined correspondence that had arrived with the morning post. Alaric Devayne had long since been removed by the magistrate and his men days earlier, and she and Gabriel had settled in to the manor.
“Mrs. Roskelly mentioned she has been caring for Grimsfell for nigh on forty years,” Gabriel replied, setting aside a letter from his contact at the Foreign Office. “Her words, not mine. She knows every stone of this place, which is fortunate now that I have rented the manor for the rest of the winter.”
Henri paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “The entire winter?”
Gabriel’s smile was slightly sheepish. “I thought we might need time to properly investigate. The clues in the rubbing point specifically to this location, and I suspected we would require more than a brief afternoon visit to uncover whatever secrets Matteo di Bianchi hid here.”
“That must have cost a considerable sum.”
“Worth every penny if it helps us solve the mystery.” Gabriel spread butter on his toast with careful precision. “Besides, I find I rather enjoy waking up beside you in a proper bed instead of cramped inn rooms. This is time for ourselves before we take up the mantle at Trenwith Abbey.”
Henri felt heat rise in her cheeks but could not suppress her smile. “You are terribly wicked, you know.”
“Only when inspired by exceptional company. But we will have company soon, so our wickedness will be curtailed.”
After breakfast, they retrieved the cave rubbing and Gabriel’s measuring instruments from their room. The morning light streaming through the library’s stained-glass windows cast jeweled patterns across the floor, and Henri found herself studying the way the colored light played across the ancient books and carved woodwork. They had searched multiple rooms over the past two days to possibly match the window in the clue to one in the manor, and had decided to re-examine this room of books with more patience this morning.
“The four-paned window,” Gabriel said, consulting the detailed drawing he had made from the original. “Look at theproportions here. The width, the height, the way the central mullion divides the space.”
Henri followed his gaze to the magnificent stained-glass window that dominated the library’s east wall. The glass itself was newer than the Tudor frame, likely installed during recent renovations, but the underlying structure matched the rubbing with remarkable precision.
“It is the same window,” she breathed. “But how could Matteo have known about renovations that would not happen for three centuries?”
Gabriel was already moving toward the built-in shelving that flanked the window, his measuring tape extended. “Perhaps he did not. Perhaps the window frame itself was the constant, and he counted on later inhabitants maintaining the basic structure.”
“Or those inhabitants knew to maintain it,” Henri mused.
He worked conscientiously, comparing his notes mapping out the manor to the physical reality of the room. Henri watched him with growing excitement as the pieces began to align.
“Here,” Gabriel said suddenly, running his hands along the wooden backing of a particular shelf. “The proportions of the surrounding rooms suggest there should be more space behind this section, between here and the morning room beyond.”
Henri joined him, studying the ornate carving that decorated the shelf’s backing. Vines and flowers intertwined in typical Tudor fashion, but as her gaze adjusted to the patterns, she began to notice familiar shapes concealed within the design.
“Gabriel, observe here.” Her finger traced a circular motif partially concealed by carved leaves. “It is the same circle we discovered at the altar stone.”
Gabriel’s breath caught as he followed her indication. The circle was there, subtle but unmistakable, and below it?—
“The circle and crucifix,” he said, but there was a note of uncertainty. “No, wait. Examine the proportions. The vertical element is too narrow, too tapered.”
Henri leaned closer, studying the carving with fresh perspective. It was in the most pristine condition of all the carvings they had encountered and she could see Gabriel was right. What appeared at first glance to be a cross had something different about its lower portion. The vertical line did not end bluntly like a traditional crucifix but tapered to a distinct point.
“It is a sword,” she declared. “The pommel and crossguard disguised as the top of a crucifix, but that is definitely a blade point below.”
Gabriel nodded grimly. “And notice how much sharper the carving is here compared to the weathered stones we discovered at the altar and the castle. This was maintained far better.”
He pressed down firmly on the wooden backing where the sword symbol was carved. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a hushed grinding sound of well-oiled mechanisms, the entire shelf section swung inward like a door.
Beyond lay shadows.
“The more we explore this strange house, the more it is clear that the servants know more than they will speak of. This property shows signs of maintenance despite its shrouded state and has more servants ready to step in than I would expect for such a remote location.”
Henri nodded. She had been thinking the same thing. The dust was minimal, local maids came in weekly under Mrs. Roskelly’s supervision, and the housekeeper herself apparently worked here two or three days a week when it was not rented out. Full time when it was. But neither she nor the caretaker lived here. Keeping on so many servants for an empty building was exceptionally diligent for an absent master, not to mention a bit of an expensive undertaking. But their suspicions couldnot be confirmed one way or the other when the solicitor and servants all refrained from answering any questions about the ownership. They would have to pursue its secrets without assistance because its loyal retainers were friendly but unhelpful in this regard.
Gabriel retrieved an oil lamp from the library’s reading table during Henri’s examination of the concealed space. The flame cast dancing shadows as they stepped through the secret entrance, revealing a chamber unlike anything Henri had ever seen.
The walls on both sides were entirely covered with mirrors. They were not the silvered glass of modern manufacture, but older reflective surfaces that appeared to shimmer with their own radiance. The chamber stretched much farther than should have been possible given the manor’s layout, and at the far end stood an imposing pipe organ, its ebony wood gleaming in the lamplight.
High overhead, thin shafts of daylight filtered down through what appeared to be concealed grillwork set into the walls near the ceiling. This was clever architecture that would be invisible from outside the manor during the day, providing just enough natural illumination to keep the chamber from complete shadow.
