Page 81 of Exile's Return
Agnes cast a glance at the door and took a few steps toward Tobias, lowering her voice. ‘There is a hiding place in the room James used as a study,’ she began.
Tobias threw up his hands. ‘I know of that one. It was empty. Do not forget, Agnes, I knew this house as a child and James and I spent many a long hour looking for its secret places. I’m not the fool you take me for.’ He leaned forward, so close theirforeheads almost touched. ‘This is not about the gold. You want the children.’
Agnes raised her chin, looking the man in the eye. ‘I tell you truthfully that I well recall the night that the gold arrived. At the time, James secured it in his study. If it is not there then he must have moved it alone.’
Ashby turned away from her, pacing the room several times. ‘That is not enough, Agnes.’
She shook her head. ‘It is everything I know, Tobias. But in my time here, James showed me many of the hiding places in this house. Grant me time to search my memory and we will see if my knowledge is the same as yours. I care nothing for gold but I am motivated by the greater desire to see the children are safe and well. I will look for it and if I find it, then it is yours to do with what you will on condition the children are restored to my care.’
Tobias tugged at his beard and rose to his feet. ‘You have until dusk tomorrow night. If the gold has not been located you will leave this place and never return.’
Agnes nodded.
Taking a few steps toward the door, she said, ‘May I go to the children now?’
Tobias waved a dismissive hand. ‘Go. I am not the monster you think me, Agnes. The children have missed you and it may cheer them to see something of you.’
Relief flooded Agnes, and she found herself feeling genuinely grateful to this man.
He continued, ‘I will see you at supper. In the meantime, think hard about your situation, Agnes. You have until tomorrow.’
‘You wish me to dine with you?’
He turned to face her, his face a hard mask. ‘Of course. You are my guest, are you not? Or do you prefer to eat alone in your chamber, with my man at your door?’
***
“The children guard the secret,” James had written.
Just one secret?The bitter thought twisted like a knife in Agnes’s heart. James had harboured many secrets and hidden them well.
She walked slowly along the corridor that led to the children’s nursery, counting off the doors to the unused bed chambers. The children occupied a large room at the end of the corridor. She opened the door of the chamber adjacent to it and peered in. The only furniture was a dusty bed without a mattress or hangings, a table, and a chest. She paused, squinting at the wall abutting the nursery. Just to be certain she walked back into the corridor and into the bedroom again several times.
Her heart skipped a beat. She had never noticed that the internal dimensions of this room did not match the external. At least four feet abutting the nursery were unaccounted for. She had been right. All she had to do now was to locate the entrance within the nursery.
An unfamiliar thrill of anticipation ran down her spine.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked into the all-too-familiar room. which served as both bedchamber and nursery. As the children were still considered little, they shared the massive oak bed with its heavy red woollen hangings.
The children were alone with a sour-faced nursery maid, who sat by the fire darning stockings. What had Sarah called her? Hannah? Lizzie sat beside her, apparently engaged in needlework.
Hannah glanced up, a frown creasing her disagreeable face. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded without rising to her feet.
Agnes drew herself up. It was hard to be imperious when you barely touched five feet but she did her best.
‘I am Mistress Fletcher,’ she said. ‘I am aunt to these children and sister-in-law to the late Earl. I expect better manners of you, young woman.’
Hannah flushed, set down her sewing, rose to her feet, and bobbed a curtsey.
‘Sorry ma’am,’ she stuttered, a sulky caste to her mouth.
‘What is your name?’ Agnes demanded while she held the upper hand.
‘Hannah, ma’am.’
‘Leave us, Hannah,’ Agnes ordered.
Hannah shuffled her feet and looked at the toes of her shoes. ‘Mistress Turner—’ she began.
