Read Online Old Lover's Ghost by Joan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

to open it!”
    She removed the drawer while Merton massaged his crushed fingers. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “The passage has opened. It slides open as the drawer is pulled out. I remember now.”
    “I do not see how you could have forgotten,” she said, crouching down to examine the open passage. “I shall ruin my gown. Look at the dust!”
    “What, no dust at Radley Hall?” He was already crawling through the opening, into a small chamber with stairs leading up. When Charity handed him the lamp, he looked around. “It is as well you are not frightened of spiders” was all he said.
    Charity climbed through the opening. “Where does this lead?” she asked, looking at the staircase.
    “To the attic.”
    “That is all? Just to the attic? I thought it would lead to a bedchamber. The old lords frequently had such a contraption to allow them to visit ladies—ladies other than their wives, I mean,” she added.
    Merton grinned. “We Dechastelaines do not go in for that sort of thing.”
    She peered at him askance. “Lewis mentioned a cousin Algernon ...”
    “Cousin Algernon was the exception that proves the rule. Actually, the family has quite a few exceptions that prove the rule. Like French grammar, in fact. More exceptions than rules.”
    “It certainly sounds very French.”
    They began climbing up the stairs, Merton leading the way with his lamp held high.
    “I cannot believe there is not a secret door into one of the bedchambers,” Charity said, stopping at the first landing to examine the walls. She could find no suspicious woodwork, however. The walls appeared to be solid enough.
    “This leads only to the attic, and an unfinished part of the attic at that. There are no floors, just the cross members, with the ceiling of the bedroom below, made of lathe and plaster. Not strong enough to take a person’s weight, as I discovered in my youth.”
    “What is the point of such a secret passage?” she asked.
    “I’ve no idea. Perhaps the passage was never completed, or perhaps it was only used for concealing treasure. I understand the silverplate and some paintings and gold were concealed here during Cromwell’s rampage. That makes the passage worthwhile, does it not?”
    “In a purely rational way I daresay it does—that would be reason enough for you. There is not much food here for the emotions. No frisson scuttles up the spine, no hair stands on end.”
    Merton noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He said, “If you really want your hair standing on end, I think I can provide that as well. There is—”
    Charity saw where he was looking and glanced up to see three small bats hanging from the rafters. A shriek split the air. “Bats!” she exclaimed, and threw her hand over her head to protect her hair. Her shout roused one of them from its sleep. It spread its wings slowly. As she shrieked and tried to hide behind Merton, he swept her protectively to his chest and began looking around for a shelf to hold the lamp, so he could put this interlude to full use. Charity clutched at his waist, burrowing her head into his shoulder.
    “Quiet!” he cautioned. “They were asleep. It is your shouting that is waking them. Demme, one of them is coming toward us,” he lied, chewing back a grin.
    “Stop him! Oh, but don’t kill him! Let us go!”
    She looked up and saw the laughter in his eyes. She looked up at the dark corner and discerned the three inert forms. In the close shadows of the little landing, she was suddenly very aware that she was still clutching at Merton’s waist. Strangely, she forgot all about the bats. His face was close to hers. His free arm encircled her protectively, while the lamp in his other hand cast flickering shadows around them. She felt his breath fan her cheek. They stood for a moment, each very conscious of the other’s proximity. When Merton’s arm began to tighten around her, Charity became aware of the impropriety of her situation and dropped her