“Your courage and fortitude are more than evident,” she told him, as they remained sitting together, locked in this moment of vulnerability, openness and warmth. “I am grateful to have become acquainted with you, Lord Franks.”
Quite what might have happened had he and Miss Hemmingway not been interrupted by the maid bringing in a tray of refreshments, Robert was not certain. Miss Hemmingway had left her maid out of the room, meaning that they had been entirely alone—which was a situation of great impropriety, but he had given very little thought to it at the time, given the distress that had been so very apparent on her face as well as his own difficult state of mind. He had never thought even a for a moment that she had come to call on him for anything other than to hand to him the stained gloves of her brother, had never even considered that she might have left her maid out of the room in order to entrap him in some way. There was that trust between them now that he valued very greatly indeed. That trust was here now, as she led him into the study, opening the door into the very ordinary looking room that he had been in once before. Everything was as he remembered it. There were bookshelves lining two walls, with only a small gap at the corner. There were one or two smaller, wooden chairs on either side of the room, with the large desk he had searched in the center of the room.
“The box you found?” Miss Hemmingway asked, her hand resting on the door for a moment, as he slipped in behind her. “Where was it?”
Robert looked at the bookshelves. “There,” he said, noting the gap that was between some of the books and the end of the bookshelf. One or two of the books had fallen over now that they did not have the support of the box, making the gap all the more obvious. “It has not been returned.”
“And my brother would not be foolish enough to return it,” Miss Hemmingway murmured, walking towards it and leaving the door ajar. “Even if he still has it, of course.”
Robert shook his head. “I do not think your brother has it in his possession,” he said, recalling the thin, older gentleman who had been at the scene of the carriage accident. “Whoever took it would not risk Lord Hamilton returning it to his house.” Coming towards Miss Hemmingway, he looked up and down each bookshelf, feeling himself growing a little frustrated. This would take a good deal of time, he was sure, given that the room appeared to be quite as he would expect, with no obvious knobs or levers anywhere. Seeing Miss Hemmingway running her hand over the books, he gave her a small smile and began to do the same in the bookshelf opposite.
They worked in silence for some time, neither finding anything of note. Robert found his mind a little distracted, a part of him aware that he was very much alone with Miss Hemmingway, just as he had been before. He had no intention of taking advantage of her but there was certainly something between them that, thus far, neither had put word to. Lady Callander was due to call on Miss Hemmingway this afternoon but as yet, had not arrived. Robert had no eagerness for her to do so either!
“Wait!”
Miss Hemmingway stayed her hand, pulling it back sharply as though she had been stung. Robert rushed over to her, but she was already busy pulling out books one or two at a time, setting them down in a pile in front of her.
“I noticed that this book here,” she said, indicating a large volume that was sitting directly in the center of the bookshelf, “stuck out a little further than the rest.” She continued to pull books out of the bookshelf, with Robert quickly assisting her. “I might very well be incorrect, but I believe that there is something…..” She trailed off, the final books in her hand as she stared at the large gap that now revealed what Robert had expected to be the back of the bookcase. Instead, there was a small square gap cut into the back of it, revealing what appeared to be a small, ornate wooden flower. It was painted pink, with dark green leaves, and had the bookcases not been in place, then it would have been very obvious indeed.
“I can hardly believe this,” Miss Hemmingway whispered, taking a small step back and placing the last of the books down. “Do you think it will open something within this room?”
A sudden warning began to ring in Robert’s ears. “I do,” he said, somewhat gruffly. “Which is why, Miss Hemmingway, you must be on your guard.” He gave her a tight smile but encouraged her to take a small step back, so that there was distance between her and the back of the bookshelf. Reaching forward, every sinew of his body tense, Robert pressed his fingers hard against the flower, but nothing happened. Running his fingers around it, he held onto it a little more tightly and tried to turn it to the right.
It did not move.
With another quick glance over his shoulder towards Miss Hemmingway, Robert tried to turn the flower to the left and, immediately, the flower rotated and something to his right clicked.
Miss Hemmingway gasped in astonishment, stepping back in surprise as her eyes fixed on something he could not yet see. Hurrying towards her, his heart beating furiously, he saw that a small part of the wall, just next to the end of the bookcase and behind one of the small wooden chairs, had apparently slid away.
“Hamilton?”
Miss Hemmingway’s hands clamped to her mouth, her eyes staring at the gap in the wall as a voice echoed from it.
“Is that you?” the voice continued, low and gravely. “I’m starving. Hurry up.”
Robert saw Miss Hemmingway shudder but she did not move.
“It is not Hamilton,” she called out, just as he reached for the paper knife that sat idly on Lord Hamilton’s desk. “It is his sister, Miss Hemmingway.” Silence met her words, with Robert marveling at Miss Hemmingway’s bravery.
Her head held high, she threw him a quick glance, her face pale but her eyes determined. Robert moved carefully to the space opposite Miss Hemmingway, pressing himself back against the bookcase. Somehow, they had silently managed to form a plan of action, which he now intended to execute perfectly so that Miss Hemmingway would remain quite safe.
With a quick nod to Miss Hemmingway, Robert steadied himself and turned his head to watch for any movement. Taking in a long breath, Miss Hemmingway set her hands to her hips and once more returned her gaze to the open space. “There is nowhere else for you to go,” she said, loudly, not a hint of fear in her voice. “Now remove yourself from this place and at once and explain yourself!”
Chapter Twelve
Carolyn did not know what to expect. There was such a sense of trepidation washing over her that it was all she could do to keep her chin lifted and her eyes sharp. Whoever was within this small space at the end of what appeared to be a small corridor would only be able to see her at present, and would think that she was no great threat. Had it not been for Lord Franks’ presence then she would have been utterly terrified but, seeing him there waiting bolstered her courage.
Just what have you been doing, Hamilton? she thought silently to herself, more than a little sorrowful over her brother’s actions. There was no-one else in the house who might could have concealed someone within. Yet again, her brother was proving his guilt without even having to admit to a single thing.
Her heart leapt into her throat as a small man appeared in the narrow space. He could not leave it simply by walking through it but would have to turn to walk sideways, pressing his body against each side of the small entranceway. She looked at him steadily, quite sure that Lord Franks would be able to tell from her quickened breathing that she had seen the interloper.
“You say you are Lord Hamilton’s sister, eh?”
The man’s voice was sing song, teasing her as though she were nothing more than a foolish child. “And just whatever are you doing here?”
“Remove yourself from there at once,” she demanded, despite the pounding of her heart and the fear that raced up and down her spine. “How dare you infiltrate my brother’s townhouse?”
The man chuckled. “Don’t you know that it was your dear brother that put me in here?” he said, making Carolyn swallow hard. “Not that he had much choice in the matter, of course, he does what he is told.”