Page 105
“History has more important matters to occupy it.”
“Not my history.”
Judith crossed to the window and looked across the south lawn. Frost silvered the grass near the clipped yews, mist lay low beyond the garden wall, and one of the gardeners was already pushing a barrow along the kitchen path with his shoulders bent against the morning cold. She turned towards Baines, and he smiled slowly as understanding dawned between them.
Baines stared at her for perhaps two seconds before crossing the space between them and kissing her lightly upon the forehead.
Judith froze, and he appeared almost equally surprised by what he had done. “That was not necessary.”
“No.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I became enthusiastic.”
The answer was sufficiently straightforward that Judith could think of nothing useful to say, which was an occurrence she disliked intensely. Baines, recovering more quickly, gave her a speculative look.
“The passages,” she said, reminding him of their intended purpose that had been wholly abandoned to sleep the night before. Blackthorn had grown in pieces. The oldest portion dated to the border troubles, when houses in Northumberland had been built with considerably more concern for defence than comfort.
Baines straightened and held out his hand in invitation. “Show me… please.”
They crossed the house by the servants’ stair, avoiding the breakfast room, where Lady Dunsmore could already be heard objecting, at some length, to the preparation of eggs. The west corridor lay within the oldest portion of Blackthorn, where the ceilings were lower, the windows narrower and the oak panelling had darkened almost to black with age. Here the ancestral portraits gave way to practical cupboards, old trunks and occasional pieces of furniture that had been banished from more fashionable rooms. Judith stopped before the linen cupboard.
Baines surveyed the double doors. “This is your secret passage?”
“It is a linen cupboard.”
“I had hoped for something more sinister.”
“You may imagine the sheets to be stolen.”
She opened the cupboard. Neatly folded linen filled the shelves from waist height nearly to the ceiling, with lavender sachets tucked between the stacks and lending the confined space their clean, dry scent. Judith reached behind the third shelf while Baines watched her with interest.
“You know precisely where it is.”
“I was brought up in this house.” Her fingers found the old iron catch, and a section of panelling released with a faint click. Baines’ eyebrows rose as Judith pushed the narrow door inward upon darkness.
“Blackthorn improves upon acquaintance,” he said, then took a candle from the corridor table, lit it and held it before them before gesturing courteously towards the opening. “After you.”
“Coward.”
“Not at all. I am allowing the expert to lead.”
“You are allowing the woman to encounter the rats first.”
“I had not considered that advantage, but now that you mention it, I find the arrangement to be an excellent one.”
The passage admitted them grudgingly. It was barely wide enough for one person, with rough stone forming one wall and the backs of later panelling and plaster forming the other. Dust lay thick along the edges of the floor where feet had not disturbed it, while old beams crossed overhead and forced Baines to duck.
Judith remembered exploring these passages as a child with Edward and Henry, carrying stolen candles and imagining smugglers, Jacobites and murdered heirs. The truth had proved disappointingly domestic, for generations of servants had used the passages to move between rooms without crossing the formal corridors. She had not been inside one in years.
At the first junction, she stopped. “Those stairs descend towards the servants’ hall, while this branch runs behind the library.”
Baines raised the candle and peered ahead. “Then let us discover whether Sir Lionel has spent his life discussing state secrets within hearing of the linen.”
They had progressed scarcely ten feet when voices emerged through the wall with such clarity that both of them stopped.
“—cannot possibly expect me to ride to Newcastle merely because—” The voice belonged to her cousin Edward.
