Page 67 of The Hidden Lord
“It is a chapel of sorts,” Henri whispered, her words echoing strangely in the elongated space. “Or was meant to be one.”
Gabriel raised the lamp higher, studying the mirrored walls with fascination. “Observe how the reflections multiply infinitely. Every surface reflects every other surface. It creates the illusion of endless space.”
As they proceeded deeper into the chamber, Henri noticed text carved into the stone along the base of one mirrored wall. Latin words, but arranged in a way that appeared wrong somehow.
“snoitcelfeR fo llaH,” she read aloud, frowning at the unfamiliar arrangement.
Gabriel held the lamp closer, then peered up at the mirror directly opposite. In the reflection, the reversed Latin text read normally.
“Hall of Reflections,” he translated. “Clever. The message only becomes comprehensible when viewed in the mirror.”
They approached the organ with cautious reverence. The instrument was magnificent, easily the equal of anything Henri had encountered in London’s finest churches. The wood showed no signs of age or neglect, and when she tentatively pressed one of the keys, the note that emerged was pure and clear, reverberating through the chamber.
“How is this possible?” Henri breathed, playing a simple scale. Each note rang true, as if the organ had been tuned yesterday rather than sitting concealed in a sealed chamber for decades or centuries.
Gabriel studied the arched stone ceiling overhead. “The acoustics are flawless. This chamber was designed specifically for music. And notice how dry the air is. There is some kind of ventilation system keeping moisture out.”
Henri continued to explore the organ’s range, marveling at the instrument’s responsiveness. The sound appeared to transform the chamber, converting it from a mysterious concealed space into a sacred place.
“There must be more clues here,” she said, her fingers stilling on the keys. “Matteo would not have led us to such an elaborate hiding place just to show us a secret chamber.”
Gabriel nodded, raising his lamp to examine the mirrored walls more closely. “The sketch showed specific symbols around the organ. We need to discover what corresponds to those markings.”
As if summoned by their words, the multiple reflections in the mirrors appeared to shift and dance, creating an almost hypnotic effect. Henri experienced the strangest sensation that they were being observed by countless versions of themselves, all searching for the same elusive truth.
The Hall of Reflections guarded its secrets closely, but Henri could sense they were on the verge of a breakthrough. Whatever Matteo di Bianchi had concealed here, they were finally close to uncovering it.
Gabriel studiedthe ancient organ keys beneath his fingertips, dappled with the patina of centuries and countless devoted palms. The Hall of Reflections had revealed its architectural secrets readily enough, but the true mystery remained as elusive as smoke. He glanced toward Henri, who knelt beside their spread collection of sketches and rubbings, her dark brow furrowed in concentration.
The lamplight caught the copper threads in her honey-brown hair as she traced the obscured portion of their cave carving copy with one delicate finger. Gabriel recognized the particular quality of her frustration from their journey together. It was the controlled frustration of a mind accustomed to solving complex puzzles through sheer determination.
“The water damage in the cave,” Henri said finally with a note of defeat. “It is too extensive. We cannot make out what the notes are in the surrounding panes. Without that, we cannot follow the clue.”
She looked up at him, and Gabriel saw both fierce determination and despair warring in her expression. “She waitswhere the grim fell sings. Let thy hands match hers. But how can we match what we cannot see?”
Her tone, the way hope and irritation intertwined, moved Gabriel more than he had anticipated. In his years of diplomatic service, he had learned to separate emotion from duty, to view setbacks as tactical problems requiring alternative approaches. But Henri’s disappointment felt personal, as if her failure were somehow his own.
Without conscious thought, Gabriel crossed the chamber and drew her into his arms. The familiar weight of her against his chest, the way she instinctively leaned into his strength, arrowed affection straight into his heart. His mouth found hers in a kiss that spoke of comfort and shared purpose, of two minds working in perfect harmony toward a common goal.
When they parted, Gabriel tilted his head back to meet her gaze directly, his hands firm on her shoulders. Years of commanding men in the horror of battle had taught him the value of unshakable confidence, especially when facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
“Listen to me,” he declared with the quiet authority he had learned to project during the most critical moments of negotiation. “We have solved every puzzle Matteo set before us precisely because we work together. Your eye for detail, my knowledge of codes, your intuitive leaps, my systematic approach. Together, we see what neither could alone.”
Gabriel watched Henri’s expression begin to shift, her disappointment giving way to hope. It struck him how much he had come to depend on that particular transformation. He treasured the moment when her eager mind seized upon a new possibility and began working at it with relentless focus.
“Each clue has led seamlessly to the next, has it not?” Gabriel continued. “The sketch to Roseberry Topping, the altar stone to the castle, the castle’s symbols to this very chamber. Matteo wasbrilliant, but he was also practical. He would not have created a quest that could be derailed by a problem as common as water damage to ancient stone.”
“You think there is another way?” Henri asked, though Gabriel could already see her mind beginning to work at the problem from new angles.
Gabriel pulled her closer, delighting in the way her smaller form fit against him, in the trust implicit in her willingness to be held and comforted. “I think that a man clever enough to encipher a three-hundred-year treasure hunt would have contingencies. The answer is here, in this chamber. We simply need to discover where he concealed it.”
His certainty surprised him. Gabriel had learned through bitter experience not to make promises he could not keep, yet their partnership, the way they had successfully navigated each previous challenge, made him believe absolutely in their ability to solve this one as well.
As if drawn by the same magnetic force that had governed all their discoveries, they moved back toward the library, their attention focused on reaching their bedchamber with purposeful intent. Gabriel marveled at how natural it had become, this intertwining of intellectual challenge and physical desire as they ran up the stairs together. Once they reached the bedchamber down a long hall, their coupling was urgent, driven by the intoxicating combination of shared frustration and absolute faith in their partnership before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Gabriel stirred first, his military experience making him sensitive to any sound that did not belong to the natural rhythms of Grimsfell Hall. The fire in the grate had burned low, casting only the faintest orange glow across the cool chamber. Beside him, Henri’s breathing remained deep and even, her face peaceful in sleep.
Then he heard it again. The faint but unmistakable sound of organ music drifting through the halls.
