in the abandoned stillroom, and the floor was no exception, but there was a wide space just in front of the boxes that was clear of dust and dirt, as if someone had shoved the crates out of the way of the door, leaving a length of bare floor.
Cecilia nudged her toe against the corner of one of the crates, and to her surprise, it shifted easily out of her way. A quick rummage through them soon revealed why. The jars had been carefully arranged along the tops of the crates, but underneath they were filled with sawdust and hay.
Cecilia pushed them aside just enough to slip behind them. There was a bolt lock on this side of the door, but it wasn’t bolted. Just as she went to open it, she noticed a smear of something white on the iron latch. She touched it, then rubbed the substance between her fingers and thumb. It was thick and white, and a bit sticky, rather like…
White face paint. The sort of paint ladies and gentlemen used to achieve the perfectly white skin considered fashionable some years earlier. No one had much use for it anymore, now that a more natural look had taken precedence.
Unless…
Cecilia stared down at her white fingertips, her heart rushing into her throat. Unless one was a white ghost, and then it might prove very useful, indeed.
But she didn’t have time to consider it now. She turned her attention back to the secret door. A quick twist of her wrist revealed it to be, as she’d hoped, unlocked. It creaked open, but beyond was a darkness so thick Cecilia couldn’t see a thing. It was cold, too, terribly cold, with walls of damp stone.
It was a passageway. Cecilia’s heart pounded with dread at the thought of being trapped inside it, but she wasn’t going to turn coward now. It was so narrow and so low she was forced to duck to pass through. It seemed to her as though she crept along it for miles, but it likely wasn’t more than ten minutes before a thin line of weak light appeared ahead.
A few dozen steps more, and she came to a steep stone staircase, and embedded in the stone ceiling above them was a wooden plank fitted with an iron ring that served as a makeshift handle. A thin strip of light peeked around the edges, and as she drew nearer, Cecilia saw it was open just a crack, and a branch stuck into the gap to keep it from slamming shut again.
Cecilia heaved it up the rest of the way, and with a little cry threw one arm up to shade her eyes. She knew at once it led outside, because the snow was still falling. The cold drops landed on the bare skin of her hands and neck, and the wind whipped her hair around her head.
It wasn’t terribly bright, the sky being dark with snow, but after the tunnel it took a few moments for Cecilia’s eyes to adjust. Once they did, she knew where she was at first glance.
She’d come out just beyond the wall that surrounded the kitchen garden. From here one could easily disappear into the rose walk without being seen, and from there to the edge of the tree line and into the woods beyond. She fell back a bit, stumbling on the step as the pieces of the puzzle clicked suddenly into place.
Of course. The mysterious lantern light weaving among the trees in the wood, the White Lady with her filmy gown, scarlet lips, and pale face, who always appeared near the tree line, and then seemed to disappear as if into thin air when she neared the kitchen garden. The Darlington Castle ghost, the specter all of Edenbridge believed to float on air and vanish at will, was making use of a secret passageway leading from the edge of the rose walk into the castle.
A secret passageway only a person who’d spent a great deal of time at Darlington Castle could possibly know about. Not Gideon, who’d only come to live here after his brother’s death.
No, someone else. Someone who knew every inch of Darlington Castle, and every hidden door leading into and out of it. Someone who was in a position to have a key to those doors, and might unlock them at will, just as she pleased.
Someone like Lady Leanora.
Cecilia swept her gaze over her surroundings again, and noticed something else.
Footprints in the snow.
Not just human footprints,