Page 68 of The Hidden Lord
Gabriel’s body went still with the kind of absolute attention that had kept him alive through years of clandestine work. This must be the organ they had discovered in the Hall of Reflections. The sound came from deep within the very walls, harmonizing with the wintry winds that whistled over the Cornish cliffs with haunting persistence.
His hand found Henri’s shoulder, giving her the gentlest shake that would bring her awake without startling her. “Henri,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
She came awake instantly.
“What is it?” she asked, alert despite having been pulled from deep sleep.
“Listen.”
They lay perfectly still in the darkness, and Gabriel felt Henri’s grip tighten on his arm as the melody became audible in the far distance. It was hauntingly beautiful, played with a skill that spoke of long practice and deep reverence. The music resounded from everywhere and nowhere, as if the very stones of Cornwall were singing.
“The grim fell sings,” Henri breathed with wonder.
Gabriel nodded, reluctant to rise. “Shall we go see who it is?”
This adventure, he realized with a mixture of anticipation and satisfaction, was far from over.
Henri curled into his side with a contented smile, her naked body raising his interest, along with other parts of him. “It is late, and it is warm here in the bed. Let the grim fell keep its secrets for one more night.”
EPILOGUE
“Much they marvelled, yet some were not pleased.”
Sir Thomas Malory,Le Morte d’Arthur
FEBRUARY 15, 1822
The sound of the carriage wheels on the gravel drive announced their visitors before Mrs. Roskelly’s knock on the library door. Henri glanced up from the sketches she and Gabriel had been studying in anticipation of their guests’ arrival.
“Signor di Bianchi has arrived, milady,” Mrs. Roskelly announced, her weathered features bright with curiosity. She likely had never encountered Italians before in such a remote part of England. “Along with two gentlemen companions. I have shown them to the morning room.”
Henri exchanged a meaningful glance with Gabriel, who was already rolling up their latest sketches. They had sent word to Signor di Bianchi several days prior, describing their discovery of the concealed chamber but deliberately omitting the more mystifying details until they could explain them in person.
“Excellent,” Henri replied, smoothing her morning dress and ensuring her hair was properly pinned. “Please inform them we shall join them directly.”
As they made their way through the corridors of Grimsfell Hall, Henri found herself both eager and apprehensive about Signor di Bianchi’s reaction to their discoveries. The Italian art trader had invested so much hope in this quest, so much faith in the possibility that his ancestor’s legacy would finally be revealed. She hoped their findings would not disappoint him.
Gabriel opened the morning room door, and Henri stepped through to find Signor di Bianchi rising from a chair beside the fireplace. His dark eyes held the same energy she remembered from their first meeting, though now tinged with barely contained excitement. Beside him stood two gentlemen she recognized immediately, both of the Scott family.
“Lady Trenwith,” Signor di Bianchi said, advancing with outstretched hands and a warm smile. “How delighted I am to see you well. And Lord Trenwith, of course.” He clasped Henri’s fingers briefly before turning to Gabriel with high interest. “Your message spoke of extraordinary discoveries? I confess I have barely slept since receiving it.”
“Signor di Bianchi, we are equally eager to share what we have uncovered thus far,” Henri replied, returning his smile with genuine pleasure. She turned to greet her neighbors. Or rather, now that she was wed, her mother’s neighbors. “And Mr. Angelo Scott, Mr. Nicholas Scott, what a surprise to find you here.”
Angelo Scott stepped forward, brimming with youthful energy. “Lady Trenwith, Lord Trenwith, what a delight! We werewith Lorenzo to help him in his search for you when you did not come back from the Danbury estate. He desired friends he could trust not to gossip while we endeavored to find you. When he learned you had uncovered something, he asked us to join him.”
Nicholas Scott, leaning slightly on his walking stick, offered a nod of his head. Henri and he had known each other many years as neighbors but never conversed much. It was Nicholas’s brother and her twin who had been inseparable.
“Miss Big—I mean, Lady Trenwith. I hope Cornwall is treating you well. Though I suspect it cannot be more challenging than my current company.” He cast a pointed glance at Angelo, who was practically vibrating with enthusiasm beside him. Henri immediately understood the family dynamics. Angelo’s zest contrasted sharply with Nicholas’s more guarded manner, while both clearly respected Signor di Bianchi’s pursuit on behalf of his family enough to accompany him on this journey.
“Angelo has time on his hands to assist,” Signor di Bianchi explained, “and Nicholas brings a practical perspective that helps keep our endeavors grounded in reality.”
“How flattering,” Nicholas Scott remarked dryly. “I have been reduced to the voice of reason. Clearly, my reputation has suffered irreparable damage.”
“Then you shall not be disappointed,” Gabriel said with quiet confidence. “What we have discovered defies simple explanation. Perhaps it would be best if we showed you directly.”
Signor di Bianchi’s excitement was palpable as they led the small party through the manor toward the library. “I have dreamed of this moment for so many years,” he confided to Henri as they walked. “To finally see my ancestor’s work, to understand what drove him to such elaborate secrecy. It will vindicate everything I have believed about his genius.”
Henri smiled politely, but she was worried that Signor di Bianchi would not be as ecstatic with their finding once he saw it. She exchanged another glance with Gabriel, who appeared to share her concern about managing the Italian’s expectations.
