Wishing fervently for a candle as the thick blackness enveloped her, Edwina stretched out her arms to either side. The tunnel didn’t seem to be too wide. Her fingertips touched the rough edges of stone. Definitely man-made. Edwina walked carefully in a circle, one hand on the wall, until her fingers curved away into more emptiness. The tunnel. Drifting her fingers in the air, she met stone again.
Very good.Only one tunnel out.
Carefully, she inched through the passage, her fingers trailing along the stone on either side. How long had it taken someone to build this tunnel? It must have been created around the same time the abbey had been built.
After a few moments, her right hand touched only emptiness as the wall fell away.
Damn.
She’d been afraid of this. Feeling her way around, Edwina could tell that the tunnel split. Walking to her right a few steps, she was assaulted by the scents of salt and damp earth. The distant rumble of waves met her ears. Edwina ignored the small burst of triumph that she’d been right. The nuns had fled to the beach. The knowledge didn’t help her at the moment.
“Not that way,” she whispered, turning back the way she’d come. She felt her way to the original passage and moved forward.
Her half boots scuffed along the dirt as she continued on, hoping she would end up at the library. After about half an hour, the tunnel seemed to take a slight incline. The toe of her boot hit something solid.
The bottom of stairs.
Holding on to the wall, she felt her way upward until the pitch-black of the tunnel lightened enough so she could see her hand in front of her face. A door was in front of her. She could see the outline. Reaching the top of the stairs, she ran her fingers over the wall, feeling for a lever or trigger to open the hidden door. Finally, her thumb caught on something.
The door, actually the lower part of the bookcase, swung open with a swoosh.
Edwina recognized that sound. She’d heard it before. Just before a book was thrown at her pot of tea.
I knew it wasn’t a bloody ghost.
Stepping into the library, Edwina watched as the door slid smoothly back into place. A book, covered in burgundy leather, had fallen forward but now snapped back into place as the door shut.
The lever to open the door.
Examining the bookcase, Edwina searched for the outline of the door and couldn’t see it. Impossible to find if one wasn’t looking. How had Fielding seen it?
“Collins.” Bascomb was seated at her desk, staring at her. His features were creased with relief. “Thank God. Collins.”
Edwina pointed at the bookcase. “There is a—”
“What the bloody hell are you doing in the wall?” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been searching for you for hours. No one in Portsmith has seen you, and I—” He came forward in a rush and took her in his arms, kissing her cheek, her forehead, and finally her mouth.
Oh. He’s been worried.
Her knees buckled, but Bascomb held her tight. Squeezing her until she gasped for air. “Jonah. I can’t breathe.”
He cupped the back of her head, the gray-green of his eyes luminous in the dim light of the room. “I couldn’t find you. I thought—”
“Ouch.” Edwina winced as his fingers found the lump at the base of her skull.
Bascomb immediately pulled his fingers away, dark with blood. “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?”
He pulled her onto his lap.
Edwina struggled. Half-heartedly. “I’m fine. Set me down. Someone might see.”
“I don’t care.” Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed the cloth to her head gently, rocking her as if she was a child.
“I’m quite well, Jonah. I have to tell you—”
“I thought you left Rose Abbey,” Bascomb whispered. “I went to Portsmith and looked. Searched. I found Mrs. Page at the butcher shop. She hadn’t seen you either.” A stricken look flashed across his features. “I thought you were gone. Because of last night.”
