Midnight in Austenland (Austenland 2)

They sat on the front steps of the house, waiting for the police.

“Sorry, Eddie. I just felt so sure.”

“There may be secrets about this house that even Mrs. Wattlesbrook doesn’t know.”

“But how do we ferret him out?”

“I’d wager Mary knows where he is.”

“And she’ll never tell.” Charlotte started to make a wish on a star peeping through a hole in the clouds, till she realized it was a satellite. “You know, when Mary came into my room last night, her clothes were dirty, as if she’d climbed through a dusty space. But the dirt was black. Maybe not just dirt, but soot. Ashes.”

“A passageway through a fireplace?”

“Or maybe …”

Charlotte stood up, looking off into the distance. Eddie stood beside her.

“Pembrook Cottage?” he said.

“Yeah.”

They ducked into the morning room, grabbed a couple of candles, scrawled a note to the detective to meet them at the cottage, and left it on the front steps under a rock.

They’d intended to wait for the police outside the cottage, but once there, neither could resist creeping through the burned-out front door to look for signs of Mallery. Footsteps had scuffed the layer of ash, but for all Charlotte knew, they were the mark of firefighters. Without speaking, they made their way through charred rubble to the back of the house, where walls and roof were stained with smoke but intact.

Eddie was scanning the floor for clues. Charlotte meant to search, but she was distracted by the way the walls seemed to undulate in the candlelight. How could there be so many shadows when the only light came from a thumb-size flame?

“What a creepy little house,” Charlotte whispered.

Eddie made no response, and she thought he must not have heard her. Or perhaps the house swallowed up sound. She walked down the hall, her feet probing for creaking boards to convince herself sound was possible in this place. Would Mallery really prefer to skulk in an ashy, dark half-of-a-house than to run to freedom? It didn’t seem likely anymore.

At the end of the hallway, just before the stairs going up, she found a small sitting room. The smoke had barely touched the walls and ceiling, leaving intact a small table with chairs and a bookcase. Charlotte held up her candle, curious what books lined the shelves. She read titles under her breath.

Charlotte frowned. The bookcase seemed to be coming slowly forward. She shook her head, sure it was just her candlelight creating false motion on the bookcase’s uneven surface. She was about to remark on it to Eddie when a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the wall behind the bookcase. All in the same second, the bookcase/door shut, a breath blew out her candle, and a hand covered her mouth.

“Don’t scream.”

Charlotte, you’re so stupid! screamed her Inner Thoughts.

Yeah, thanks, I’ve figured that out, she thought back.

Being in a hidden room with Mallery again—her heart doing that manic tickety-tack, tickety-tack—felt so familiar.

Mallery whispered, “Do you promise to stay quiet?” she nodded under his hand.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, letting go.

“I don’t believe you.” She hadn’t meant to keep her promise. She’d planned on screaming bloody murder to alert Eddie, but it was hard to talk at all. She felt as if she were underwater, her lungs tight, the pressure of the pond pushing her head down.

Mallery guided her to a small sofa in the dark and invited her to take a seat. Her head brushed a ceiling that slanted down, and she realized they were in the space under the stairs. This scarcely qualified as a secret room—more of a secret hole, or nook, or niche even, perhaps a cavity or alcove …

Come up with synonyms all you want, said her Inner Thoughts. It’s not distracting me from the fact that you’re stupid.

“I am happy you came to me, Charlotte,” Mallery said, sitting beside her.

Uh-huh. “Eddie is out there. And he’s … he’s armed. And the police are on their way.”

Mallery ignored this, but the calm in his voice was forced, fraying at the edges. “I would not have done what I did if there had been another way. Wattlesbrook did not deserve to live. He had no respect for women or ancient edifices.”