Page 17 of Mistress of Misfortune

“I have seen work like this before in a few other country houses,” Lucetta said as she straightened. “I believe this may have been modeled after the work of Nicholas Owen.”

“Papa told me about him,” Meredith said. “He lived during the reign of Elizabeth the first, at least, until he was put to death.”

“He was a Jesuit as well as a carpenter, and something of a genius at creating secret passages and spaces.” Her cousin wrapped her arms around her waist as she studied the concealing shelves again. “Your ancestor must have wished that the right sort of person should find this particular cache. A feminine person, I should think.”

“Why make such an assumption?” Thorne asked. “Anyone might have found it.”

The older woman gave him a slightly sour smile. “How many grown men do you know favor reading children's books?”

He uttered a short laugh. “I see your point.”

“Governesses are generally not permitted to freely remove books from a library. They make any such requests of the lady of the house, that she might first approve their selection for the children.” Lucetta turned to Meredith. “Indeed, Cousin, I believe that he wished someone like you to find this.”

“I am not the lady of this house.” Meredith felt mortified that she had blurted that out, and quickly added, “What would be the purpose?”

“I cannot tell you.” Her cousin's expression grew shuttered. “All men hide their secrets.”

Thorne picked up a candle and held it closer to the opened panel. “It seems to be another collection of books.” He reached in through the small space and retrieved one volume, which he handed to Lucetta. She drew back and carried it closer to one of the lamps.

“These are not books, Colonel,” the older woman said. She showed him the pages inside, which were covered in elegant script. “They are journals.”

“Surely not?” Meredith sounded incredulous, and bent down to peer into the hidden panel before she looked up at Thorne. “They all do seem to have the same binding.”

“Can you make out the first entry in that one, Miss Branwen?” Thorne asked.

“It says here: ‘August seventh, morning,’” Lucetta said, reading from the first page. “’Construction continues today on the west wing. I escape it as often as I may, for the noise made by the masons is prodigious, and my tolerance decidedly not.’” She glanced up at Thorne. “It may have been written by Mr. Emerson Thorne himself, as the place was being built.”

“There are more than a hundred in there, I should think,” Meredith said. “How could one gentleman write so many?”

“He spent his final years as a widower, and a recluse,” Thorne reminded her. “Doubtless he intended them as a memoir.”

“He would not wish his most private thoughts to fall into just any hands, so he then concealed them.” Meredith caught her breath. “Colonel, these journals could contain all the secrets of Dredthorne Hall.”

“You are being overly romantic, Cousin,” Lucetta said sharply. “These may be nothing more than estate ledgers.”

At that moment a tendril of wind came through the window, and caught the pages of the open journal, turning them in a flurry.

Thorne felt the oddest sense of no longer being alone with the two women. “Perhaps we should delve into that subject tomorrow.”

* * *

Before they leftthe hidden library Meredith carefully replaced the books on the shelves concealing the stained-glass window.

“There.” She stood back to inspect her handiwork. “It is covered again, so only the three of us know it is there.”

“I will take its secrets to the grave,” Lucetta promised, her tone slightly mocking. “Colonel, I believe I will retire for the evening, if that is acceptable. I think Meredith should do the same.”

“Of course. Follow me.” Thorne set down the journal she had handed him and led them out of the room.

Meredith was glad to see that her cousin would have the bedchamber across from hers, and peeked inside to see a lovely old canopied bed draped in white lace. “It is a very handsome room.”

“Would you join me for a few minutes, cousin?” When she nodded, Meredith turned to Thorne. “Thank you for an interesting evening, Colonel.”

“My pleasure, Miss Branwen. Miss Starling.” Thorne gave Meredith a lingering look before he bowed and withdrew.

Sitting down beside the crackling fire in the bedchamber made Meredith sigh with pleasure. “I have never had such a good time as this. Can you believe we are the first ladies to visit Dredthorne Hall in fifty years? The house is a veritable treasure chest of wonders.”

Lightning flared outside, followed by an ominous boom of thunder that made the old glass panes rattle. Yet even that sound made the room feel even cozier. No matter how terrible the weather grew, the house protected them.