The Dark Viscount

With that sharp reminder of his purpose, Barto dismissed all thoughts of Sydony from his mind. She might have grown into a beauty, but he was not here for a dalliance. He had too many questions, and even if the Mar-chants were not involved in the answers, he had no intention of seducing a gently bred female whom his mother had asked about.

Keeping his countenance, as well as his unwelcome urges, under rigid control, Barto followed Kit into one of the lower rooms. It was deserted except for the workman who stood near the doorway, wearing an odd expression. As Barto passed by, he gave the fellow a sharp glance. Though the man kept his face downcast, it was almost as if he were terrified. Had something startled him, or was he simply as queer as Dick’s hatband? Barto didn’t think much of Sparrowhawk’s hires. But was it the fault of the solicitor, or was something deeper at work?

When Barto moved into the room he could see some unusual ruptures in the floor, which went beyond the ravages of time. Indeed, the wood was torn in places, and, upon inspection, appeared not to be the result of accidents or animals, but of a pry bar.

‘I wanted to make sure that there weren’t any other bad spots while we were repairing in here,’ Kit explained. ‘So I had our man Newton there pull up the carpet.’ He gave a nod towards the man who still stood near the doorway, as though held there by no will of his own.

Scanning the space, Barto saw that the crates and furniture in the room had been pushed to the side, so that a large, worn rug that had covered one section of the floor could be rolled up. Beneath it was an expanse of wood that differed little from the rest of the planks, except for one small area where the secretary had stood.

‘What is it?’ Barto asked. At first glance, there appeared to be cuts in the flooring, perhaps where planks had been replaced. But when he stepped closer, Barto saw the marks were actually grooves in the wood.

‘It looks like a trapdoor!’ Sydony’s voice rose in excitement from behind him, like a phantom from his past. The ladies Barto knew these days would never show emotion in public. But Sydony always had been a strange one, more boy than girl, more stubborn and reckless than any other female.

‘It’s not big enough for a trapdoor,’ Kit said, as Sydony crowded in beside them, and Barto saw disappointment cross her face. She appeared to make no effort to hide her feelings; after the intrigues he was accustomed to, Barto found her lack of guile refreshing—if it were real. Then again, Sydony might just have grown up to be a better actress than any of the ton.

‘But, still, it might be a secret hiding place. It’s big enough to hold papers, I’m sure,’ she said.

‘Or books,’ Barto noted, watching the siblings for a reaction.

‘I doubt if it’s big enough to hold all the books that must have resided here,’ Sydony said, drily.

Changing his assessment of her bluntness from refreshing to annoying, Barto ignored her. ‘Were there ever any books on these shelves?’

‘Not when we arrived,’ Kit said. He crouched down before the section of flooring and ran his hand over the edges, then looked up suddenly. ‘Come to think of it, didn’t Father receive a large shipment of books not that long ago?’ he asked, turning his head toward his sister.

‘Father was always getting shipments of books,’ Sydony said. ‘And anyway, I thought Sparrowhawk said Elspeth had them all burned.’

Barto studied her carefully. Was she impatient to investigate this spot, or was she deliberately being dismissive? Barto looked at Kit, but he appeared to have lost all interest in the topic and was bent over the flooring again.

‘There’s no catch as far as I can tell,’ he said, his fingers probing the area gingerly.

Barto walked over to the secretary and rifled through the drawers to find a heavy letter opener. ‘Try this,’ he said, handing it to Kit. ‘If that doesn’t work, I left the pry bar upstairs.’

‘I hate to ruin the surface,’ Kit said.

‘I’m afraid that someone else has already done that,’ Barto reminded him, and both Marchants followed his gaze to the places where the flooring had been pulled up.

‘You don’t think someone was looking for…this?’ Sydony asked, surprise clearly written on her face.

Barto lifted a brow. ‘I think that’s pretty obvious.’

‘But if you knew where it was…’

‘And if you didn’t?’ Barto asked. ‘Perhaps whoever was searching didn’t know the hidden compartment was underneath the rug, with heavy furniture lying atop it.’

Kit turned towards Barto. ‘The solicitor said that our great-aunt claimed that someone was breaking into the house. But no thefts were reported.’

‘He acted like she was addled, but maybe she wasn’t,’ Sydony said.

Barto glanced around the room at the old mullioned windows set deep into the walls, presumably an easy entrance for a would-be thief. And unreliable or disbelieving servants attending an elderly woman they thought addled would provide little protection. And yet, something didn’t fit…

‘Why wouldn’t the would-be thief just come in after her death?’ Barto mused aloud. ‘By all accounts, the place was abandoned and deserted.’

‘Maybe he did. Maybe it’s empty,’ Sydony said, looking down at the spot in the floor.

But Barto suspected that the average thief wouldn’t trouble to return the room to the way he had found it. And yet, maybe the thief wasn’t average. Or maybe what he was looking for was already gone…

Barto watched as Kit levered the opener into the corner and the plank popped upwards, with no apparent damage.

‘Is it empty?’ Sydony asked, stooping beside her brother.

‘No,’ Kit said. Lifting the end further, he peered below. ‘It’s quite deep, actually, and I can see something in there.’

‘Books? Papers?’ Sydony asked, and Barto wondered why she seemed focused on those things. You’d think a woman would hope for a box of jewellery or a hidden hoard of coins or gold.

‘Hold on,’ Kit said, reaching into the space. His movements sent up a cloud of dust, and Sydony inched backwards, waving a hand in front of her face, which was probably just as well, considering what Kit pulled out of the hole.

Although dirty and blackened, the object appeared to be a skull. A human skull. Barto watched Sydony in case she started to drop into a swoon, but she didn’t even shriek at the sight. Again, she proved that she was not the typical female, that perhaps she was as brave as he remembered.

The shriek, when it came, echoed from outside their small circle. Barto looked up in surprise to see the workman, who had remained standing silent and as far from them as possible, stifle another wail.

‘You don’t suppose he’s anything to do with this, do you?’ Kit asked.

Barto shook his head. ‘More than likely the fellow is thinking of abandoning his employment.’

‘Why? Because of an old skull?’ Kit asked, grinning at him, and Barto felt the same sensation he had known earlier with Sydony. The years fell away, and he and Kit were just two boys, digging in the dirt and gleefully sharing their mischief. Except Barto wasn’t sure just how much they shared these days.

Schooling his features, he leaned over the opening. ‘Is the rest of a body down there?’ he asked.

‘I might need a lantern, but I don’t think there’s anything else down there,’ Kit said. He set aside the skull to peer into the blackness, but he had barely moved when another wail pierced the silence.

Again, Barto looked to the workman, who was so pale, he seemed frozen to the spot by fright. Finally, he lifted a shaking arm to point toward the skull. ‘It’s his,’ the fellow mumbled.

‘Whose?’ Kit asked, sitting back on his haunches.

‘His.’ The workman’s voice was low and ragged.

‘Well, whoever he is, he’s been dead for a while, from the looks of his skull,’ Kit observed.

At his words, the workman looked like he was going to faint dead away and Sydony shushed her brother fiercely. ‘Do you know whose this is? Is it someone who lived live here at one time? Are you saying the man was never buried?’ Sydony asked.

Barto suspected the workman was incapable of answering, but now that Kit had remarked on the age of the relic, Barto stooped to look at it more closely. He had seen bones before, mainly at the Royal College of Surgeons, where some members were always eager to share grisly learning tools. This one was old, and unusual, if he wasn’t mistaken. Pulling out his handkerchief, Barto rubbed away some of the dust to reveal its unique properties.

‘What the devil is that, a hole in the head?’ Kit asked.

‘Yes,’ Barton said. ‘Apparently, our departed friend was trepanned.’

For a long moment, the room was so quiet that Barto could hear the intake of Sydony’s breath. Then the silence was broken by the sound of the workman’s boots echoing on the hard floor as he fled the room.