The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,40
relics at the British Museum were they so inclined.
Country-house parties were popular for one reason and one reason only: They provided ideal opportunities to conduct illicit trysts. Sprawling Alverstoke Hall, with its many bedrooms, antechambers, storage rooms, gardens and other secluded locations, was perfect for discreet liaisons. She had no doubt but that the many staircases scattered throughout the mansion were already seeing a steady stream of traffic as lovers and seducers made their way between floors.
The house was not completely dark. The servants, obviously aware that many of the guests were interested in matters other than antiquities, had thoughtfully left several wall sconces burning. But with the lamps turned down and the mansion draped in relative silence, she was more aware of the eerie energy of the artifacts seething in the atmosphere. Paranormal currents always seemed stronger and more easily detectable at night.
She reached the ground floor and paused briefly to get her bearings. The surroundings appeared different—more mysterious and somehow more ominous—now that they were cloaked in shadows.
The hot energy of the artifacts was disorienting but there was another problem as well. The original core structure of the mansion was very old. Over time various occupants had remodeled sections, built entire new wings, and added floors. In addition structural modifications had been made to the existing house in order to install modern amenities such as gas lighting and proper plumbing. The result was that Alverstoke Hall was a maze of oddly connected passages, hallways and staircases.
Earlier she had taken care to note the route to the library, but she was alarmed to realize that things looked so different now that the lamps had been turned down.
After a moment’s close reflection she started forward. She shuddered when she passed the massive, vault-like doors that guarded the great hall. The chamber that held Alverstoke’s most valuable antiquities had been locked for the night following the grand reception. Rumor had it Alverstoke was very proud of his security measures. But no locks could stop the dark energy that seeped out from under the lower edges of the heavy doors.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she located the long, moonlit gallery where she had been sitting earlier when Joshua had found her. Now she had her bearings. The library was at the far end of the passage.
The gallery was cloaked in shadows but she saw the wobbly flame of a candle in the distance. As she watched, it moved toward her in an unsteady manner, as though the person carrying the candlestick walked with a limp.
Relieved, she hurried toward him.
A solid thud, followed by a sharp gasp, warned her that she had made a mistake. The light of the flame flared wildly on the stone walls.
“Bloody hell,” a man rasped, his voice slurred by drink. “Damned artifacts.”
Definitely not Joshua, Beatrice thought.
She halted and looked around, searching for a convenient staircase or room she could dart into. But there was no time. The man who had just run afoul of one of the relics was almost upon her. In the glow of the fluttering candle his face was cast in demonic chiaroscuro.
When he spotted her his anger immediately transmuted into lecherous anticipation.
“Well, well, now what have we here?” he said. “You must be one of the maids. Off to meet a lover, eh?”
“You have made a very grave mistake, sir,” she said coldly. “I’ll thank you to step aside.”
“You’re no maid, not with that accent. Not a governess, either. There aren’t any children here at Alverstoke Hall. You must be some lady’s companion.”
“You are correct, sir, and as it happens I am on a very important errand for my employer. She will not be pleased if I am delayed.”
“Carrying a note to her paramour, are you?” He chuckled. “You have my deepest sympathies. Yours is a hard lot, is it not? You are doomed to convey messages between lovers but never to have one of your own.”
“I will ask you once again to step aside, sir.”
He held the candle higher and examined her with a critical air.
“You are no beauty,” he announced. “No figure to speak of and red hair is always off-putting. But I’ve tumbled worse in Covent Gardens.” He grinned. “Fortune has smiled upon you tonight. My plans for the evening have changed. The bitch I was to meet opened her door to another man. So, as you are convenient and I am not feeling overly selective at the moment, let’s get on with the business.”