Page 28 of Mistress of Darkness

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to save the curtains, sir.” He indicated the charred pile of fabric on the floor. A strong smell of smoke emanated from them. Then he pointed at the ceiling. “I’ll have to fetch the ladder to clean the ceiling.”

A ring of black soot stained the ornate panels above them.

“Parks,” Gwen interjected, “did you find a candle overturned, perhaps on the floor, that might have started the fire?”

“No, Miss,” Parks replied. “There was nothing on the floor.”

Gwen smiled primly as she looked at Robert and nodded.

“You’re certain?” Robert said as he walked over to where the fire had obviously singed the floorboards. It’d then crept up the curtains and almost set the ceiling on fire, its destructive path only too clear.

Parks looked from Robert to Gwen and then back again. “Absolutely certain, sir.”

Gwen moved to the desk where the bundle of papers still sat, where Robert had left them, but then she cocked her head and turned to face them.

“And the port?” Gwen asked, looking around the room. “What has happened to it?”

“Well, Miss,” Parks said quickly, “after what the doctor said, I thought I’d better pour it down the sink. So that’s what I did.” He glanced nervously at Robert. “Did I do right, sir?”

“Yes, of course, Parks,” Robert said in a soothing voice. “Miss Archer and I are just reviewing the…facts, as it were.”

“I presume you’ve also washed the glass,” Gwen said, more statement than question.

“Yes, Miss,” his valet said, grimacing. “But that’s all. I swear it. That’s all that I’ve removed.”

Before his valet could feel any worse for doing his job, Robert said, “That will be all, Parks. I appreciate your cleaning up. Thank you.”

With another worried look at Gwen, Parks bowed to them both and hurriedly went to the door.

“Oh, and Parks?” Robert added. His valet turned back to him. “Thank you for helping to save my life last night.”

A smile lit the older man’s face. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” He bowed and left.

When Gwen turned to him, Robert expected that her consternation might overflow. But instead a devious little grin curled her lips. “Do you see what is missing?”

As Robert turned about the room, he tried to picture it as it was last night. He’d brought in the bottle of port and a glass, and then remembered that he’d left the bundle of papers in the secret library. He’d brought them here to the desk and untied the string that bound them. Then he’d struck a match, and lit the candle in its holder.

“The candle,” he muttered, scanning the entire room.

Gwen came to stand at his side. “Strange isn’t it? That the one thing that could have started the fire is completely missing, let alone on the floor?”

“Well, it has to be here,” he said, moving aside the papers and the inkstand. “Parks said that the port and glass were all that he removed.” But the more he looked, the more it seemed she was right. Though he searched the myriad bookshelves, the various small tables, and even moved the urns and sculptures set upon them, the candle and holder were nowhere to be seen. He turned to Gwen, somewhat chastened.

“You’re right,” he said. “It isn’t here.”

Her eyes took on a twinkle. “There is one more thing for which we can search.” Luckily she didn’t wait for him to guess. “A secret passage.”

He drew his brows together. “I’ve been in and out of this room a hundred times, Gwen.” When he saw her face fall, he stopped himself. “All right, what makes you think we’d find one here?”

“The missing candle,” she said, smiling. With hands on her hips, she surveyed the entire room. “We must turn this place upside down and inside out if that’s what it takes. But I’m telling you, there’s more hidden in Dredthorne Hall than we have glimpsed. Mrs. Thorne sensed it even if she couldn’t say it in so many words. She wrote repeatedly that Miss Wilson moved in the shadows.”

Robert took off his jacket, tossed it on a chair, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Where shall we start?”

Now she beamed at him. “I adore it when you let me have my way,” she said, then put a finger to her chin as she considered. After a moment, she gave a reproving tsk. “Of course. We must start near the fire.”

As she directed, he moved the ruined curtains aside and she stepped to the wall. “In my dressing room, there was a distinct if very thin line where the wall was divided.”

“Yes,” he said, joining her in front of the flocked paper-hanging that covered the wall. Though it was fire-darkened, it was otherwise undamaged. “I recall how it looked in the kitchen as well. But in an old building like this, such small cracks wouldn’t be out of place.”