Ariadne's Diadem (22 page)

The cake was not the only gift awaiting Anne, for Mrs. Jenkins had also embroidered a set of handkerchiefs for her. Joseph’s secret woodwork was revealed to be a beautiful carving of her favorite roan mare, and Martin had walked to the woods at dawn to gather her an armful of bluebells. Her parents had left a present in Mrs. Jenkins’s keeping, and everyone gathered around as the housekeeper placed a large flat cardboard box on the kitchen table. It contained a costly cream silk evening gown that was fashionable and elegant enough for the Duchess of Wroxford to wear at Almack’s, and Anne’s eyes filled with tears, for she knew her father really could not afford it.

The gifts were then set aside, and while Anne sat down to a leisurely birthday breakfast, Mrs. Jenkins began to prepare the picnic, determined to show the new duke that good Monmouthshire food was every bit as good as that “Frenchified stuff” to which he was no doubt accustomed. Martin was despatched on his morning tasks in the stables, and Joseph had just begun to don his gardening boots, when through the open door he suddenly noticed something odd across the courtyard by the cellar trapdoors. He paused in astonishment. A snake? Surely not. Taking a walking stick of Mr. Willowby’s that was awaiting repair, he advanced cautiously in his socks to attend to the reptilian intruder and found it to be merely a serpentine length of rope. Tutting with annoyance that he’d been taken in, he picked it up and shoved it in his pocket, for if nothing else, it would do to tie a rambling rose that needed cutting back, but which he couldn’t touch because it was Mrs. Willowby’s favorite.

Still tutting, he returned to the kitchens, passing Mog in the doorway. She was lazily contemplating an inspection of her territory in the grounds and immediately caught the faint scent of the “snake” from which she’d so wisely steered well clear. What she detected at these close quarters certainly wasn’t snake but goatman! Arching her back and spitting at the startled gardener, she dashed toward the archway and vanished from sight. Joseph—no lover of cats at the best of times— frowned after her. “Miserable darned feline,” he muttered, resuming his place on the stool. Jack was highly intrigued by the cat’s reaction and came to sniff interestedly at the pocket. Disagreeable memories were aroused of being kicked on the rump by a horned man with hooves, and the peeved lurcher padded over to the trapdoors to investigate further. As the horrid scent became very strong indeed, he raised the alarm by barking for all he was worth.

With a sigh Joseph finished attending to his boots. “Leave off, you old fool!” he shouted, but Jack took no notice.

Mrs. Jenkins went to the door. “You don’t think it could be rats, do you?”

The gardener was offended. “Rats? I’m most particular about controlling vermin, and you know it.”

“Well, there’s clearly
something
bothering that mongrel of yours.”

Anne had a thought. “I heard something in the rotunda, and it crossed my mind that it might be a rat.”

Joseph had other things to do and didn’t want to be bothered with dark cellars, but he knew he had no choice. Devil take Jack! “All right, I’ll go and investigate,” he muttered reluctantly.

Mrs. Jenkins caught his sleeve suddenly. “Maybe it’s that intruder! You did say he might be hiding somewhere here, and it’s true that neither of us saw anyone hurrying away when we returned the other night.”

Joseph blinked. “What are you saying? That you reckon there’s a
person
down there?”

“I suppose I am,” the housekeeper replied, turning to cast an uneasy look at Anne, who had come to join them at the door.

Joseph drew himself up purposefully. “That does it. I’m not having anyone on these premises what isn’t supposed to be here. Where did I leave that there blunderbuss?”

Mrs. Jenkins’s eyes widened. “Oh, you will be careful, won’t you?”

“I’ll do what has to be done.” He took the formidable gun from its place on the wall above his woodworking shelf, and after lighting the lantern, he marched across to where Jack was still barking hysterically. Anne and Mrs. Jenkins remained nervously at the entrance of the kitchens as the trapdoors were opened and the angry lurcher leapt down into the darkness below. Joseph followed more cautiously, and then held the lantern aloft to look around. The dog had disappeared into the most shadowy recesses, where he began a loud clamor as he found the hole that gave into the temple below. The intensity of the scent wafting up warned of the creature’s close proximity, but the lurcher didn’t care to confront it without Joseph and the blunderbuss.

Sylvanus was rudely awakened by the lurcher’s noise. Alarmed, he scrambled up from his bed on Gervase’s coat and hid behind the altar, for there was no way of escape. He saw the swaying glow of the lantern as the gardener came to see what the dog had found.

“Good God above,” Joseph gasped as he saw the opening revealed by the removed stone flag. He crouched to hold the lantern down in order to see more, and then stared as the ancient steps were revealed. “Good God above,” he gasped again and began to go warily down into subterranean darkness. Still barking. Jack brushed past him and rushed toward the panic-stricken faun. Sylvanus had no option but to use his powers. He cried the magic words. Jack’s noise was cut off mid-bark; there was a thud, then absolute silence.

Joseph halted uneasily at the foot of the steps and raised the lantern to try to see what had happened. “Jack?” he called. There was no reply, and he called again. “Jack? Come here, boy.” Still silence. Placing the lantern on a ledge, the gardener held the blunderbuss at the ready, but as he stepped purposefully forward, he was shocked to see the lurcher—as white as white—lying motionless on the floor. Almost immediately there was a soft sound, and he whirled toward the altar. For a split second he saw an ugly bearded head, horned and snub-nosed, and in his shock he fired the blunderbuss. Fragments of the ceiling scattered, and the report reverberated like thunder in the confined space.

Sylvanus bleated with sheer terror and used his power again, this time upon the old man. As Joseph turned to marble, the faun scrambled up the steps to the cellars. There he froze with further alarm, for the two women had come running as soon as they heard the blunderbuss. Pressing back behind some empty casks, he watched as they descended the ladder. They saw the beam of lantern light reaching up from below, and the faun waited until they’d hurried past him before he whispered the incantation that would return the gardener and dog to their true selves, then he clambered up the ladder and fled to the maze as if an entire pantheon of outraged gods were on his goat tail.

Joseph was sitting up dazedly as Anne and Mrs. Jenkins came anxiously down into the temple. The gardener’s face had drained of all color, and he shook like a leaf as he patted Jack, who’d crawled over to him on his belly and was whining pathetically. Both man and dog kept a nervous eye upon the altar, for fear whatever it was might still be there.

Anne gazed around the temple in amazement, then took the lantern and hurried over to the gardener. “Are you all right, Joseph?” she asked.

“I think so. Just shaken, that’s all.” Joseph tried to clear his mind, for the past few seconds didn’t bear thinking about.

Mrs. Jenkins came over and knelt next to him. “What happened?” she inquired, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder.

He hesitated, but then drew back from a truth that would surely see him pass through the doors of the nearest bedlam. “I just tripped and fell.”

“Should we send Martin for the doctor?” the housekeeper asked.

“No, I’d much rather
not. I’m just shaken up, that’s all,” Joseph said uncomfortably.

Mrs. Jenkins looked around with some relief. “Well, at least there doesn’t seem to be anyone down here. When that blunderbuss went off, I was afraid...” She didn’t finish.

Anne noticed how swiftly Joseph lowered his gaze and suddenly knew he wasn’t telling the truth. He hadn’t simply tripped and fallen; there had been something else. She glanced at Jack, whose cowering fright surely resulted from more than just the blunderbuss going off. Maybe someone
had
been down here. She was uneasy, for if there had been, then she and Mrs. Jenkins must have passed the person.

The housekeeper continued to look around. “What
is
this place?” she asked.

“I think it’s a Roman temple,” Anne replied.

“And it’s been right here under Llandower all this time?” Mrs. Jenkins shivered and got to her feet. “Let’s go back up into the daylight,” she said, holding out a hand to help Joseph.

As the housekeeper assisted the unsteady gardener out of the temple, with Jack at their heels, still belly low on the ground, Anne picked up the lantern and glanced around again. She was about to follow the others when she noticed what seemed to be a pile of crumpled old cloth on the altar. On investigation she was startled to find not rags, but a fashionable greatcoat someone had been using as bedding. So a fugitive
had
been hiding down here. Her pulse quickened unpleasantly, for it was a very unsettling thought. Still, she could prevent any return by bolting the door to the kitchens’ passage and padlocking the trapdoors from the courtyard.

Her attention returned to the coat, which she decided must have been stolen. She ran a curious fingertip over the gleaming silver buttons, only one of which was missing. Why would a thief fail to remove and sell such costly items? As she looked, she suddenly recognized the maze badge of the Mowbrays and recalled that the old Duke of Wroxford had buttons like these. Surely, the vagrant couldn’t have been hiding down here as long ago as that? She discounted the thought almost immediately, for this was a young man’s coat, stylish and bang-up to the latest mark. Taking the coat with her, she made her way out of the temple.

Chapter Twenty-five

Sylvanus was still so unnerved by the closeness of the call in the temple that on reaching the rotunda he flung himself among the thick ivy behind the bench, his hands clasped over his head and his furry posterior up in the air.

Gervase gazed uneasily at the faun’s trembling little tail.
“Sylvanus? Are you all right? Is Anne still safe—?”
His fear for the woman he loved was almost too much to bear.

“Yes, she’s all right.” Sylvanus peeped timidly over the bench.

“
I
thought maybe my damned cousin had come early, and
...” The danger she was in weighed heavily upon Gervase’s heart.

Sylvanus lowered his eyes. “She’s quite all right,” he said again. “Well, when I say that—”

“What happened?”
Gervase interrupted anxiously, for clearly something had occurred that involved Anne.

“My rope snake must have been removed, because the dog found me. Then the gardener came down with his blunderbuss, and I could only escape by turning them both to stone for a few moments. It was either that or be caught. I’d dearly have liked to leave that wretched dog as a statue, though,” the faun added, recovering sufficiently to sit weakly on the bench.

“What of Anne?”

“She and the housekeeper came down, and passed me in the darkness. They’ll have had a shock about finding the temple, but that’s all, because I’d turned the man and the dog back from marble by then.”

“Did the gardener see you?”

“Yes, but it was over in seconds, and he will probably think he imagined it. The dog realized more, but he can’t speak to humans.”

Gervase didn’t say anything, for he could well recall his own feelings when he’d first been turned to marble. Joseph might think he imagined it, but he’d never forget it all the same.

Sylvanus looked uncomfortably at him. “There’s just one thing. I forgot to bring your coat with me. If they find it and recognize the buttons...”

“They might show it to Hugh.”
Gervase finished.

“He’s bound to recognize it and wonder how on earth it comes to be here.”

“Well, what’s done is done.”

* * * *

At that moment Anne had just placed the coat in question in a comer of the kitchens, then she turned toward Joseph, who was seated with a drink of something to steady his nerves. Jack was at his knee, and the lurcher was still quivering. “Right, Joseph, I think you should tell us the truth now,” she said quietly.

He sat forward guiltily. “I’ve already said what happened, Miss Anne.”

“You haven’t,” she replied patiently.

“I have, I swear it!” he cried.

Mrs. Jenkins looked closely at him and realized Anne was right. “Joseph Greenwood!” she said sharply.

He eyed them both unhappily. “Look, I just
can’t
tell you!” he said then.

“Why not?” the housekeeper asked.

“Because it’s lunatic, that’s why.”

Anne and Mrs. Jenkins exchanged glances, each thinking of the strange business of the disappearing nymph. Anne looked at him again. “Just tell us, Joseph, because believe me, there have been some strange things happening here recently.” Briefly she told him about Penelope’s comings and goings.

The old man stared at her. “But that’s impossible,” he said.

“More impossible than whatever it was that happened in the cellar?”

He hesitated, and then shook his head. “Maybe not. All right, I’ll tell you, but you must
promise
you won’t say a word of it to anyone. I don’t want to end up in a bedlam.” He cleared his throat and stroked the lurcher’s head. “There were three things really. Firstly, I saw Jack all turned to stone, as white and stiff as that statue in the maze; then I saw something like a man, except it had horns and a billy-goat’s beard. The last thing I remember was feeling myself turning to stone too. It lasted only a few moments, then I was myself again, but it’s the truth, I swear it upon my mother’s grave. Look at Jack— can’t you
see
that something mighty frightening happened to him?” There was silence, and the gardener got up from the chair. “Right, I’ve told you what happened, and now I want to forget it. I’m going to go out to the garden and get on with the jobs I intended to start earlier, and I’m not going to mention a single word of this ever again.”