“Are you quite all right now, Katherine?” She cared for the girl, but was also grateful for the excuse to avoid Lord Jess’s distracting presence.
Katherine nodded, but she was still shivering and Beatrice wondered if she should offer to take her to her mother.
“I am so sorry, my dear,” Lord Crenshaw said, “and I apologize to you, too, Miss Brent. I had no idea her fear was so real.”
Beatrice knew he valued her good opinion and though she thought him in the wrong, she nodded her acceptance of his apology. Lord Crenshaw offered her his arm and they moved away from the end of the passage.
While the countess fussed over Katherine Wilson, full of apologies, Lord Crenshaw escorted Beatrice over to Cecilia and then stood with them.
“How many more such passages are there?” Destry asked, his enthusiasm obvious, giving everyone a happy distraction.
“I am sure there is one less passage than Lord Destry would like,” Cecilia breathed to her sister.
“Mervis could tell you,” the countess said. “I can never quite recall.”
Flanked by the two footmen with their flambeaux, the countess approached the table. Before she could take her seat the disembodied voice called out, again.
“Dr. Frankenstein. I need you. I am begging. Please.” The last word was an agonized plea. After a moment of silence the voice called out, “I will make you pay for this!” This pronouncement was thunderous and everyone jumped. At least all the ladies did.
“Who is that?” Cecilia whispered with some vehemence to no one in particular.
“Is the voice familiar to you?” Lord Jess asked, looking at her with a calculating eye. “Care to wager? I will take Mr. Wilson, who is a practical joker of the highest order. He has decided to join us and that is why his wife did not come with us through the secret passage.”
“I accept that. One guinea, my lord?” Beatrice said with a coquettish tilt of her head.
“Bitsy! Papa would never approve of that,” Cecilia whispered. “You know how he dislikes using money for such things.”
“But I know it’s not Mr. Wilson,” Beatrice whispered back. “Even Papa would agree that wagering on something you are certain of is like a wise business decision.”
“Hmmm” was all Cecilia said, apparently unconvinced.
“Who do you think it is, Miss Beatrice?” Destry asked.
“I do not have to say the name aloud, do I?” Beatrice turned to Lord Jess. “Only to you.”
“Yes, that will be sufficient for me as long as no one else accepts the wager.” Beatrice came close to him and whispered the name. Lord Jess smiled like a pleased tutor.
“Your gaming had best end with this, Bitsy,” Cecilia whispered with unusual sharpness.
“Have we not already agreed to be taught after Papa leaves?” Beatrice murmured, and then added, “I am not sure how I will find out if I am right.”
“Where is he speaking from?” Destry asked, rising up and down on the balls of his feet as if that would help him see better.
All four of them scanned the walls of the room. Only then did Beatrice notice the artwork. The space had a vaulted ceiling with the ceiling panel painted as the heavens. The walls were a single continuous mural depicting something monumental and Roman. She must come back and see this in better light.
“He could easily blend in with the life-size men in the mural, especially with the room so dimly lit.” This contribution from Lord Jess.
The rest of the party stood in another group except for Lord Belmont, who was making a circuit of the space.
“Lord Belmont may find out for us,” Beatrice observed. “For him it is another mystery to be solved.”
“Ladies and gentlemen.”
The three words called their attention to the countess, who was now seated at the head of the table with the two footmen standing on either side of her. The crystals on her dress caught the light, the glow making her look intimidating as it proclaimed her majesty.
With a silent gesture to Destry to seat himself at the foot of the table she acknowledged him as the ranking nobleman present.
“Isn’t it interesting that, without a spouse, the countess can devise a number of different seating arrangements that honor us by rank?” Cecilia was twisting her hands together, trying to hide her nerves.
“So that guarantees we will always be in the middle,” Beatrice added with logic. “But you watch and see if we do not always have a different gentleman seated next to us.”
“Oh, do you think that’s what she intends?” Cecilia looked down at her