Page 48 of Never Leave Me
Nicholas nodded. “Do so quickly, my lord.”
Lord Worth rubbed his beard, as though in serious contemplation of the matter. “What about Lady Ellen? We must isolate her until we know she is not carrying the plague.”
“Has she experienced any symptoms since her arrival?” Nicholas directed the question to his brother but looked at her.
Ellen shook her head. “None—”
“She was unconscious when we found her.” Lord Worth scowled at Ellen. “What if she is already ill?”
Nicholas took her in more carefully this time. “It seems unlikely.”
“I’m fine.” Ellen released Lady Theresa and straightened her shoulders. “Really. I don’t have the plague.”
Lord Worth snapped his fingers toward the guards standing near the double doors. “Take her to the dungeons.”
The other women began to rise and back away from Ellen. She wished she could convince them they had no need for alarm, but she suspected their superstitions went too deep.
Nicholas lifted a hand to halt the guards. “Isolate her in her chamber another day or two.”
“She must be kept as far from the rest of the household as possible.” Lord Worth motioned impatiently for his guards to continue. “Take her below anon.”
“Not the dungeons, brother—”
“Who is the lord of this manor?” Lord Worth’s question echoed against the stone walls, and fury rolled in to darken his features.
Every voice silenced. Every creature held its breath. Even the dogs tucked their tails and slinked under the tables. Only the lone clang of a pot in the kitchen echoed in a nearby passageway.
“My word is law,” Lord Worth continued. “If you do not wish to submit to it, then begone with you.”
Nicholas bowed his head in acquiescence. “Very well, my lord. I shall take my leave in the morn after breaking fast.”
Lady Theresa released a murmur of protest, which rose no further than the ladies clustered around her.
Even so, Nicholas glanced at his mother, his expression apologetic. “As much as I would relish visiting longer, I must make haste to deliver warnings regarding the plague from here to the coast.”
Nicholas’s calm response seemed to alleviate Lord Worth’s rage. He gave a curt nod to the younger man before turning again to the guards who’d taken uncertain steps forward. He motioned to them irritably. “Fie upon you. Make haste and escort Lady Ellen to the dungeons.”
Ellen shivered but didn’t resist as the guards approached. She imagined the cells would be much less hygienic than a modern prison. But at the very least, she’d gained more time to concoct an escape plan since with the threat of the plague, Lord Worth wouldn’t be as eager to wed her.
One of the guards carried a torch and led the way through a series of passageways until he guided her down steep steps that went below ground, the same steps she’d used with Jasper. While less cracked and aged, the stairwell was mustier, reeking of damp earth.
When she reached the bottom, she glimpsed the simple wooden arched door built underneath the stairwell. Was the hiding place there in the wall where Jasper had revealed? She doubted she’d have the chance to find out since she wasn’t planning to stick around a moment longer than she had to.
If she delivered holy water to Dr. Lionel, she’d have to do so via the crypt at the cathedral. He wouldn’t like it, but he wasn’t the one dealing with a brute like Lord Worth.
The guard turned into a low-ceilinged and stone-walled corridor. The torchlight glistened off the trickles of water that had apparently always dampened the walls. And the same oaken door stood in place with a lock.
After a jangle of keys, the guard pulled the oaken door open. As he stepped through, he lifted his torch to reveal stone arches marking the spot of each cell.
Was this where Dr. Lionel had his lab? How eerie that hundreds of years in the future, she was lying in this area in a coma. Where had Jasper and Dr. Lionel placed her comatose body? Back on the examining table or perhaps on a more comfortable hospital bed?
The guard passed several of the cells before unlocking one and opening the door. A draft of cold and damp air greeted her, reminding her that medieval dungeons weren’t heated. And certainly didn’t have running water or modern plumbing. They were likely infested with rats and fleas.
The guard waved her inside.
As she passed by and stepped down to the deeper dungeon floor, he held the torch inside so that she could get her bearings. The chamber was cave-like, seemingly carved from rock. The windowless walls were curved and the floor scattered with straw. A thin pallet lay on one side and a low wooden stool and chamber pot stood on the other.
“My lady.” The guard pressed a bundle into her arms.
