Aghast, Cornelia saw the assailant deliver three more strokes, each harder than the last, then throw the brush upon the bed. Reaching forward, he grabbed the woman by the neck. He was squeezing her throat and pressing himself against her nakedness. The woman moaned again and let forth a low cry.
Dear God! Was a murder occurring?
Cornelia brought her eye closer still.
Who was the man? And who was his victim?
What should she do?
Might she shout through the wall? If she did, would he stop? He would surely hear her, just as she’d heard them.
But she was horrified of doing so. What if the murderer recognized her voice? What if he looked through the crack on his side. Would he see her?
But I can’t do nothing!
Suddenly, there was pressure on her shoulder and she jumped back, dropping her candle. Its flame extinguished but whoever was beside her held their lantern low, illuminating legs and feet.
She made to scream but an arm came about her, pulling her into a broad chest, and she was enveloped in the familiar masculine scent.
“Ethan!” With a sob of relief, she buried her face in his shirt. “I thought…I was afraid…” Gasping, she looked up, searching his face. “You were gone so long, and I came to find you, and…”
She jerked away, pointing towards the wall. “There’s a man—a murderer—and he’s hurting her! You must see!”
“Easy there, Tiger.” Ethan rubbed her back, speaking softly. “I’m fine, but you should have stayed where you were, what with your ankle.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine!” Cornelia didn’t want to raise her voice but she needed him to listen.
As if on cue, from beyond the wall came a throaty, wicked laugh, muffled but unmistakable. There was only one creature in the house capable of producing such a sound.
Mrs. Bongorge!
But why was she laughing? Judging by what Cornelia had seen, she ought to be half-strangled by now.
“A murderer?” Ethan handed her the lantern and peered through the crack but, when he turned back, he looked more bemused than troubled.
“I don’t think that’s what’s going on, Nellie.”
“But I saw…” she gulped. “He was hurting her, I’m sure of it.” Despite the intimacy they’d shared, she couldn’t bring herself to describe what she’d witnessed.
“Well, that’s as may be, but she seems to be pretty satisfied with the way things are turning out.”
Crossly, she pressed to the wall again. Perhaps Ethan’s eyesight wasn’t all it should be. To her shock, she saw that the ‘murderer’ had now divested himself of his clothes and was undertaking an act with which she was more familiar, although she’d never imagined anyone might perform it in such a strange position.
She bit her lip.
“Who is it, do you suppose? Not Mr. Bongorge?” To her knowledge, the snow hadn’t permitted anyone else to arrive.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I doubt very much that’s her husband, Nellie.”
“Who then?”
“From the little I know of her, it could be anyone. The vicar even! The only way to know for sure would be to keep watching.” He gave a grin. “You’re welcome to do so but I was hoping you’d like to see something else instead. Something far more impressive.”
Cornelia gave his chest a swift punch. “You’re utterly dissolute! As if I could contemplate doing that here!”
He smothered his laughter. “My, you’re full of surprises. The thought would never have crossed my mind. Much as I’d like to attempt some variation of what’s going on beyond that wall, I’ll happily save that pleasure for somewhere a mite more comfortable. In the meantime, I think I’ve found Minnie.”
“You have?” Cornelia grasped his arm. “Then let’s go quickly.”
“Yes, ma’am—only, I found a lot more besides, and it’s pretty extraordinary. To be frank, I don’t know what to make of it—but perhaps you will. There’s only one way in that I can see, so it means a long walk through the dark, and a whole lot of stairs."
A long walk, enclosed in the dark, with just one lantern between them.
Cornelia set her chin. “If I lean on you, I’m sure I can.”
Burnell hadn’t been exaggerating.
Holding the crook of his arm, she followed close as he led them along the passageway to a spiral staircase.
“Take your time, Nellie. I counted fifty-seven steps, and they’re far from even. Much as I’d enjoy you landing on top of me, it probably won’t do your ankle much good.” Burnell went ahead, waiting patiently as she ventured downward.
“Fifty-seven? But, that’s impossible; it would take us beneath even the cellars!”
“Exactly.” Burnell held the lamp low, so that she might more easily see the edge of each stair. “And if you think it’s cold here, wait until you’re underground.”
Haltingly, they made progress. At last, she conquered the final step and the ground levelled off. Here, the air was danker and mustier than ever and, brushing against the stone wall, Cornelia found it damp. She pulled the shawl tighter about her shoulders.
“Subterranean, without doubt.” Taking her hand, Burnell directed her onward a short way, until the lantern brought a doorway into view. “There’s neither handle nor hinges.” He indicated where pieces of wood had been secured over the frame. “Someone didn’t want any trespassers, but they mustn’t have banked on rising moisture rotting the lower planks, nor the determination of the rats.”
Crouching, he rested the lamp on the stone flags and Cornelia saw just what he meant. Something had chewed through the softened wood, creating a jagged hole almost a foot wide and just as deep--a gap through which Minnie would have easily gained entry.
Dropping to her knees, Cornelia peered through. With the lantern on their side, she could see nothing on the other, but Minnie must be there.
Cupping her hands to her mouth, she called, “Minnie, it’s me. I’m not cross.”
Like hell she wasn’t.
“Come back. I’m here.” She paused to listen.
At first, she heard only the drip of water but then a feeble yap, and a faint whine.
“I already tried calling. Either she’s cowering somewhere, too scared to come out, or she’s gotten stuck, somehow.” Burnell crouched beside her. “I pushed the lamp through to get a better look and that’s when I saw—” He took a deep breath. “Easier for you to look yourself.”
Grasping the lantern, he extended his arm through the hole, then withdrew. The space around them plunged into shadow but Cornelia could just make out Burnell encouraging her to move closer.
She thought, at first, it was a storage room but the large boxes within weren’t the sort in which wine travelled, nor were they the right shape. There was no old furniture, nor trunks, as one might expect in a disused place of that kind.
The containers were sited at regular intervals between the curving pillars which supported the ceiling, and there were markings on the side. Without her spectacles it was hard to make out, but the closest seemed to bear a letter S.
“It took me a while to figure out.” Burnell rested his hand upon her back, his voice close to her ear. “Think back to that night in the museum, Nellie. You were admiring something similar.”