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Chapter Twenty-Nine
The day after her father had kicked Charles out, Arabella waited for her father to go out, himself. She watched through her window as he climbed into the carriage, on the way to his club. As soon as the carriage pulled away, she got up.
She knew that the best place to look would be in his study. That was where he kept all of his important papers. When she entered, she turned the key to lock the door behind her.
She sat down in the chair. First off, she opened the desk drawers looking for something that might contain a list of secret expenses. Finding nothing, she knocked on the bottoms of the drawers. Nothing there, as well.
She sat back, in the chair, thinking. He wouldn’t have hidden something from her in the study. He had always made such a show of how much he trusted her—wanted her involved in his business dealings. She now knew that that wasn’t true.
Over the past few weeks, during which he’d treated Charles as nothing more than a glorified lapdog, she had begun to wonder. She had seen a different side of her father—one she’d never known existed. Who had that been?
He’d been dangerously angry. She couldn’t help but wonder—if she hadn’t been his daughter, what would he have done, in his rage?
I need to think like my father. He wouldn’t hide something from me in here. It’s too obvious.
He would hide it somewhere else—somewhere that Arabella wouldn’t know about. He would have needed a place that was secret from everyone, even her mother.
Arabella recalled the history of the house. The previous owner had done some interesting things with the planning of it. There were secret passages throughout, so one could travel about, in secret. The previous owner had been sent to prison for being a pirate.
She had assumed that that was for the benefit of the servants, but what if those were for the previous owner—so he could move about the house unseen?
What if he had built a place in the house—one which no one knew about? Except for the person who had bought it. She got up, letting herself out of the study, making her way into the library.
The blueprints for the house were kept in a drawer. Opening it, she slipped them out. She spread them out on the large wooden library table, finding the secret passageway. Running her finger over its length she found that there was, in fact, a tiny room at one end of it.
The room was located right outside of her father’s dressing room. Anticipation made her skin tingle. She bit her lip, nervously. She would have to go, quickly. She didn’t know just how much longer her father would be out. She’d already spent so much time in the study.
* * *
Charles waited outside of his house for Lord Dunsmore to pick him up. He was dressed in his finest suit of clothing which he had deemed passable for a gentlemen’s club. His heart was racing. He buried his hands in his pockets, one of which held the pistol. He felt better going in armed.
He glanced across the street. There was a dark figure standing in the shadows in the alley which ran in between two houses. He frowned. He had almost missed them but they had moved. He squinted trying to see the individual better.
Whomever it was they were wrapped in a dark cloak with the hood pulled low. He couldn’t tell if the person was male or female. He had an odd feeling, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising. It wasn’t the cold which chilled him.
That was when a barouche-landau pulled up and Lord Dunsmore opened the door, peering out at him. The curtains were all drawn so they could put on their disguises on the way.
“Come in, come in,” he said. Charles got in. He glanced through the window peering out around the curtains. The figure was gone.
“What are you looking at?” Lord Dunsmore enquired.
“I thought I saw someone,” Charles replied. “Watching me from across the street.”
“You should really wait inside,” Lord Dunsmore said, tapping on the roof of the carriage with a silver-tipped cane. “There’s a murderer about, you know.”
Charles nodded. Had he really just seen the murderer? Why would he be watching Charles, who was not a gentleman, and had no quarrel with anyone?
Dunsmore began pulling things out and thrusting them at Charles.
“What’s all of this?” he asked, forgetting the hooded figure. His hands were full of different bits and pieces of things.
“Disguises,” Lord Dunsmore replied. “Stuff that cotton into your mouth. If you hold it between your teeth and your cheek, it will add some weight to your face.”
“We’re not going to plan out our entrance?” Charles asked. “Shouldn’t we at least—”
“No, Mr. Conolly,” Lord Dunsmore replied. “It’s best to just go in. We’re going to pretend to be visiting Lords from the Continent.”
“As you wish,” Charles muttered.
