Page 16 of Mistress of Misfortune

She nodded, but then her attention strayed to the tarnished apparatus lining the mantle above the hearth. “These instruments here appear to be scientific in nature. Was Mr. Emerson Thorne engaged in some sort of research, I wonder?”

“No one seems to know what the man did while he lived here,” Thorne told her. “The estate agent called him a staunch recluse.”

“Some of these devices are used to make measurements of stars,” Lucetta said as she inspected the collection. “I have seen their like at the British Museum. Perhaps he had a keen interest in astronomy. Then again, gentlemen often purchase such scientific trifles simply to appear as if they do.”

“The mirrors make the room seem to go on forever,” Meredith murmured as she turned around, and smiled as she saw her reflection repeated over and over in the glass panels. “I have heard looking glasses being faced to produce such an effect in ball rooms.”

“Strange that they have never blackened over the years. Given the draft, it is remarkable that they or any of these books survived.” Lucetta ran her finger along the surface of the desk and then inspected the tip. “This should be blanketed in a layer of dust, but it is spotless. The crack in the window must be very recent, Colonel.”

“I agree. When there is no air to enter the chamber everything within is preserved, as it is in a tomb.” Thorne picked up a crystal ink well, removing the silver lid before showing the contents to Meredith. “Still liquid. My ancestor must have retreated here to write his letters, and read his favorite books.”

“May I, Colonel?” When he nodded Lucetta went to a shelf and took down a slim volume. “This was printed a century past, and yet the pages are as crisp and unmarked as if they came from the press yesterday.”

“You ladies may borrow anything you wish to read,” he told her.

The older woman nodded, and made a methodical inspection of the contents of the bookcases. Meredith drifted from one shelf to another, smiling as she recognized certain titles and frowning over others.

Thorne joined her at the children's section and glanced over her shoulder to see the storybook she had opened. “Do you favor fairytales, Miss Starling?”

“I did, once.” She showed him a page depicting fairy-like creatures frolicking in a flowery meadow. “My favorite was the story of the Swan Princes, although it always made me cry in the end.”

“I am not familiar with that tale,” Thorne admitted.

“The princess in the story labors very hard to free her many brothers from a curse which transformed them into swans. A handsome King falls in love with her, and carries her off to marry her, but even that does not dissuade her. She even risks her life to save her family. Yet despite her labors and her sacrifice, in the end she is unable to entirely save the youngest. He must go on through life with one arm and a swan's wing.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I thought it so terribly unfair, but I suppose most things seem so, when we are children.”

He thought of his own affliction. “Such resentments end with maturity.”

“I daresay they should,” Meredith said, looking a little embarrassed now.

“Colonel Thorne,” Lucetta said from behind them. “Might I consult with you on the merits of these French novels in the dining room, where the light is better?”

Thorne suspected the vicar's sister hadn't the slightest interest in any novels, but nonetheless accompanied her out of the hidden room. “My French is not what it should be, but you may find the novels of Dumas entertaining.”

“The French seldom amuse anyone but themselves,” she admitted. “What I truly wish to discuss is my cousin’s presence here, Colonel, and the threat that poses. I must ask you to do something to help protect her reputation.”

He nodded. “I am at your service, Miss Branwen.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her tone softened a degree. “I intend to say that I have been here at Dredthorne since my cousin's accident occurred. I will claim to have witnessed it, and never to have left her side for a moment. Will you support me in these falsehoods, that together we may shield Meredith?”

“Of course.” Thorne suddenly liked the vicar's sister much more than he had expected to. “You are very kind.”

“As her cousin I can do no less.” She fussed with the cuffs of her sleeves before she glanced over at the entry to the hidden room. “My brother has often mentioned Meredith in his letters. She has suffered enough misfortune for three lifetimes.” In a quieter voice she said, “Your steward and I found the remains of her rig smashed all over the road. It looked quite deliberate; perhaps an effort to conceal the true cause of the accident.”

“Someone tampered with that rig before she set out,” he said, keeping his voice as low as hers. “I am convinced.”

“We should discuss this further before she is returned to her parents, if possible.” She looked up as Meredith emerged from the library, and then down at the title page of the book in her hands. “Voltaire, how interesting. A decidedly polemic radical, but then propriety rarely troubles the French. Have you chosen a book to read, Cousin?”

“No, I have found something else,” Meredith said, her eyes dancing with excitement. “I uncovered another hidden space, behind the shelves of the children’s books.”

Thorne and Lucetta followed her back to the spot, from which she had removed all of the books from the case. This revealed a panel of stained glass fashioned to resemble an open window.

Thorne bent over, and through the glass saw what Meredith had: a closet-size space filled entirely with more shelves of books.

“You’ve found a cache.” He straightened and looked at the empty case in front of it. “I cannot see how to get at it.”

“Allow me.” Lucetta stepped closer to run her fingers carefully along the sides of the case. She hesitated, and then pressed firmly on one spot, and an audible click sounded before the case began to swing out.

“How did you know to do that?” Meredith asked.