Lacey could be difficult at times, but Phoebe had known the instant she met him that he was the perfect business partner for her. In exchange for her financial support and editorial expertise he was content to keep silent about their association. There were other printers and publishers she could have approached when she decided to go into business for herself. Most had far greater literary pretensions than Lacey did. But Phoebe was afraid that most of them would not have been able to resist the urge to gossip. Being in business with the youngest daughter of the Earl of Clarington was simply too choice a tidbit for most people to conceal. Lacey, on the other hand, hated to waste his precious time talking, let alone gossiping.
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. She closed a desk drawer and looked up to see a maid whom she did not recognize. A new member of the staff, Phoebe supposed. The woman was surprisingly pretty with her blond hair and lush figure, but she looked rather old to still be a housemaid.
"Who are you?" Phoebe asked curiously.
The maid blinked as if she had not expected such a question. "I'm Alice, ma'am. I've been sent with a message."
"What is the message, Alice?"
"His lordship would like to show ye an interestin' part of the castle, ma'am. He says he'll meet you down in the catacombs. I'm to show ye the way."
"Wylde has sent for me?" Phoebe leaped to her feet. "I'll come at once."
"This way, ma'am. We'll need candles. It's very dark down there. And filthy dirty, too. Would ye like to change yer clothes first?"
"No," Phoebe said hastily. "I do not wish to keep his lordship waiting."
Gabriel had sent for her. Phoebe was overjoyed. He was going to show her the mysterious passages below the castle. In his own awkward way he was attempting to break down the icy wall that he had erected between them.
Alice led the way down a dark stone staircase at the rear of the huge hall. At the bottom of the dusty steps she removed a key from a hook on the wall and unlocked a heavy timbered door.
A dank, musty odor wafted upward from the darkness. Phoebe sneezed. She plucked a handkerchief from her pocket.
"Good grief," Phoebe muttered as she blew her nose. "When was the last time these passages were cleaned?"
Alice struck a match and lit the candles she and Phoebe held. The weak light flickered on the gray stone walls. "His lordship said there weren't no point in cleaning the catacombs."
"Well, I suppose he's right about that." Phoebe stuffed her handkerchief back into her pocket and looked eagerly around. "My goodness, how fascinating."
They were standing in a narrow, windowless tunnel that appeared to run the length of the castle. In the frail, wavering light Phoebe could see dark openings in the tunnel walls that marked doorways and passages. The air was fetid and motionless with an underlying tang from the sea.
"They says in the kitchens that in the old days the lord of the castle used some of these rooms as dungeons." Alice started forward, moving warily down the subterranean passage. She looked nervous as she led Phoebe past a yawning black opening. "They says if ye go into some of these horrid little cells, ye can still find the bones of some of the poor wretches who was chained down here."
Phoebe shivered and shielded her candle with her palm. This was more atmosphere than she had envisioned. "Where is his lordship planning to meet us?"
"He said to bring ye to the end of this passageway and he'd show ye the rest. I don't mind tellin' ye that I'll be glad to get back upstairs."
"This is amazing." Phoebe raised her candle to peer into one of the dark passages that led away from the main tunnel. A handful of what appeared to be ivory-colored sticks gleamed in the shadows of a small cell. She swallowed heavily and told herself they could not possibly be bones. "Just think of the history that this castle has witnessed."
"Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, but I don't think that history, whatever it was, would make pleasant listenin'. Here we are."
Phoebe gazed ahead into the shadows and saw nothing except more of the stone passage. She thought she could hear the distant roar of the sea reverberating through the stone. "Where is Wylde?"
"I don't rightly know, ma'am." Alice stared at her with a strange expression in her eyes. She retreated a step. The candle in her hand flickered ominously. "He said to bring ye to this spot and he would meet us. I've done as I was told, I have. I want to go back upstairs now."
"Run along, then," Phoebe said, impatient to get on with the adventure. "I can wait for his lordship by myself." She stepped forward into the darkness, holding the candle aloft. "Wylde? Are you here, my lord?"
The sudden and terrible shriek of metal on stone behind her caused Phoebe to nearly drop the candle. The shriek was followed by a clanging thud. A scream formed on Phoebe's lips as she whirled around.
She saw to her horror that a solid iron gate now-barred the passageway from floor to ceiling. She was trapped on the far side.
Phoebe realized the gate must have been hidden in the wall. Something had triggered the mechanism that activated it. She ran forward and pounded on the thick metal wall.
"Alice. Alice, can you hear me?"
There was no answer. Phoebe thought she heard the faint sound of fleeing footsteps in the distance, but she could not be certain.
She took a calming breath. Alice had no doubt gone for help. Phoebe studied the stone walls, looking for some evidence of a concealed mechanism that might open the gate. She saw nothing.
She took a few more steps into the darkness of the stone passage. The distant roar of the sea was louder now.
"Wylde? Are you here? If you are, kindly answer me at once. Do not tease me, sir. I know I have offended you, but I swear I do not deserve to be tormented like this."
Her voice echoed down the stone passage. There was no response. Phoebe looked back at the iron gate. Surely it would not take Alice long to get help.
Fifteen minutes later there was still no sign of rescue. Phoebe glanced down at her candle and saw that it was burning quickly. When it went out, she would be in pitch darkness.
It occurred to her that there was only one thing she could do to help herself. She must explore the remainder of the passage in hopes of finding an exit. Surely this long tunnel had been constructed with some other door than the one that led up into the main part of the castle.
Phoebe nervously started down the corridor. There were no more doorways cut into the stone walls. That seemed odd.
Aware that the candle was burning precariously low, she quickened her pace. The smell of the sea was stronger and it seemed to Phoebe that the air was not quite so dank now. Her spirits rose. She would find her own way out of the catacombs.
She heard the soft lapping sound of water a moment later. Encouraged, she rounded a bend in the stone passageway and found herself in a cavernous room. A narrow wedge of daylight shone in the distance.
Phoebe held the candle higher and looked around. She was standing on the stone quay of what appeared to be a tiny subterranean dock. Seawater lapped at the stone. Rusted iron rings embedded in the quay gave evidence that this cavern had once been used to moor boats.
She had found a secret escape route from the castle. It had no doubt been designed by the original owner for use during a siege. The tiny slit of daylight at the far end of the cavern was the exit.
The only problem was that there was no longer an escape boat tied up at the dock. A large volume of black water stood between Phoebe and daylight.
The candle sputtered. Phoebe glanced down at it. She saw that she had no more than a few minutes of light left. Soon she would be trapped in this dark tomb.
She looked back over her shoulder. There was no sound behind her. She had to assume that her rescuers were unable to move the heavy iron gate. It occurred to her that perhaps it had been designed to seal the passageway permanently shut. If the lord of the castle and his family were attempting to escape via this route, they would want to be certain they were not followed.