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Tears fell to Belle’s cheeks. Though she hated herself for showing such weakness, she couldn’t help it. For years, she’d been left to her own devices. Now, not only had she found love but that very romance was threatened by a member of her family. On Christmas Eve to boot! “Perhaps one of the objects on the mantel will lend a clue.”
“Have I told you lately how much I admire your intelligence?” Though Hawk’s words were graveled with pain, the look he shot her spoke volumes.
“Hush, Captain. None of your charm or flattery right now.” But his regard warmed her from the inside out, and temporarily calmed the fear churning in her belly. She lifted a carriage-style clock, but upon inspection and finding nothing, she replaced it. When cold air seeped through her skirts, she shivered. “It is markedly colder here than other places in the room.”
“All the more reason to suspect the fireplace does, indeed, hold the key.” Hawk reached for a silver urn that rested on his end of the mantel. “Is this a significant bauble?”
“Not that I’m aware. Laurence might have mentioned the pair in passing, but that’s all.”
“Ah.” Another grunt followed. “It seems stuck to the wood.”
She moved to the urn on her end, but it came away in her hand. There was nothing inside.
“Let me see.” Philip shoved Hawk out of the way. “That’s it.” No amount of yanking or pulling would budge the urn. Finally, a cry of victory left his throat when he shoved it to one side and the unmistakableclickof something opening echoed into the silence.
“Bloody hell.” Awe rang in Hawk’s voice as the whole fireplace—mantel, back tiles, grate, and all—swung open. “I would have never thought it possible.”
“My damned brother knew this secret and didn’t tell me.” With his free hand, he wrapped a hand around the edge of the panel and after a few mighty pushes, completely freed the entrance to a hidden tunnel. “This has to be it.”
“To think such a thing was on this property and none of us knew.” Belle stayed close to Hawk’s side, not because she was frightened but because he needed support and protection.
“Inside. Now.” Philip gestured with the pistol. “You two will lead the party down.”
Icy fingers of dread tripped down her spine. “Leave the captain here. He is no good to you while injured.”
“Not a chance.” Moving to the table, Philip took up the lit candle in its brass holder. “He is your motivation to behave.” Then he pointed his candle at one that waited on a nearby table. “Light another.”
Her hands shook as she followed his command. What she wouldn’t give to shove the burning wick into his detestable face.
Again, he gestured with the pistol. “In you go.”
Knots of anxiety pulled tight in Belle’s stomach. “Please, don’t do this.” Undoubtedly, there would be rodents of all kinds in that tunnel, to say nothing of cobwebs and spiders.I will faint dead away if any of those things should touch me.Yet part of her yearned to see what was in there.
“Get. Inside.” Philip leveled the nose of the pistol at Hawk’s head. “Or your lover dies.”
The captain squeezed her hand. “I will be right by your side.”
She nodded. The sooner they accomplished this task, the sooner Philip would leave them alone and she could summon a surgeon. With a glance at Hawk, who nodded in encouragement, Belle ducked inside the low entrance to the darkened passage. Cold drafts of air caused the flame on her candle to gutter, so she shielded it with her other hand. “There is a set of stone steps here, so be careful,” she called back to the others in her party.
The treads were quite narrow. So much so that she slipped once, but Hawk was right there to catch her with his good arm and prevented her from tumbling to the bottom. Unfortunately, she dropped her candle and immediately mourned the loss of that tiny flame in the cloying dark.
Cobwebs stuck to her face as she continued her downward descent. The scrape of shoes and boots behind her reassured her the two men followed. At least she wasn’t alone. That would have been terrifying. The deeper she went, the chillier the air became. Everything smelled of must and damp, so it hadn’t been completely sealed. It was slow going, for she could barely see, and the steps were narrow. She trailed the fingertips of one hand along the earthen wall as a guide. Thank goodness she still had on her gloves, for if she were to touch something slimy or furry, she would scream the house down.
Finally, she reached the end of the steps. There was a short tunnel with hardpacked earth beneath her feet. The air smelled stagnant and of dirt. Perhaps two yards ahead, the passageway ended with a wooden door. A small, square-shaped window had been cut into the oak. A stout beam rested next to the door. No doubt it fit into the two metal slots on either side of the door, used as a lock. Rusted iron bars running vertically on the window kept intruders out… or prisoners inside whatever was behind that door.
“I can go no further.”
“How interesting.” Hawk gently nudged her out of the way. He tried the rusting door handle and stumbled forward when the panel swung inward with the groan of equally rusting hinges. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Inside, the both of you.” Excitement wove through Philip’s voice. He prodded Belle forward with the nose of the pistol against her back. “The treasure is here. I can feel it.”
Clutching onto Hawk’s free hand, Belle went into the room the same time he did. Philip brought up the rear. Windowless and small, perhaps five feet by five feet, made of earthen walls on all sides, there was nothing much of note in the room except for things shoved to the sides and hidden by dust sheets. Perhaps it was extra and unwanted furniture or something else not vital to running the manor house.
And she had never heard it mentioned before, not even by her husband. “What is this place?” Her voice sounded eerie in the forgotten space.
Hawk released her hand in favor of exploring. “It was no doubt a smuggler’s hold at one time. I’ve heard stories of men making fortunes smuggling brandy and other French goods into England through the naval blockades.” He drew the fingers of his good hand over the back wall. In the anemic candlelight, there were a few boards there, but she didn’t know what they covered. “If this is a door, there is probably a tunnel beyond that leads to the River Severn. Smugglers could have brought their loot—or anything else—in by way of the Bay of Bristol. Without anyone the wiser.”
“Smuggling, here at Ravenscroft House?” For the moment, fear of the situation was lost beneath the incredulity. “Was Laurence involved in such?”
