Aunt Dimity and the Deep Blue Sea (24 page)

“I don’t care about the car,” Damian said impatiently. “How did you know where to find us? How did you open the tomb? I couldn’t budge the blasted slab.”

“You didn’t know how to work the latches,” Elliot told him.

“Latches?” said Damian, bending toward the slab. “What latches?”

“Sir Percy will explain everything,” said Elliot. “Let’s get down to the car, shall we? The storm Sir Percy predicted is moving in, and I’d rather not be caught out in it.”

“Elliot!” I cried, stamping my foot out of sheer exasperation. “You have to tell us—”

“Sir Percy will explain everything,” he repeated doggedly, and headed downhill, toward MacAllen’s croft.

E
lliot Southmore delivered us to the castle before the first drops of rain fell, but a threatening gust of wind chased us across the courtyard and heavy clouds swallowed the moon as we gained the entrance hall.

“Sir Percy is waiting for you in the library,” Elliot informed us. “If you’d care to change first—”

Damian and I were halfway up the main staircase before he finished his sentence. We weren’t interested in fresh clothes.We wanted explanations.

Sir Percy was standing before the fire when we reached the library, but he wasn’t the only one waiting for us. Cassie sat in the chair Kate had occupied earlier, looking far more serene than she had the last time I’d seen her. The reason for her composure wasn’t hard to understand. In the chair next to hers, clad in red silk pajamas, a paisley dressing gown, and deerskin bedroom slippers that were slightly too large for him—and sipping what I assumed to be an extremely large brandy—was the long-lost Peter.

He set his glass aside and crossed hurriedly to meet us in the doorway, his slippers flapping against his bare feet.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It’s my fault, my fault entirely. If I’d known—”

“All in good time, young man. First things first.” Sir Percy intercepted Peter before he reached the doorway and guided him back to the chair, then turned to beam amiably at us. “Quite an adventurous night for all concerned. Off with your jackets, you two.You won’t be going out again. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes,” I said, and moved closer to the fire. “I want a great big pot of hot cocoa and a huge pile of sandwiches, because if I don’t eat something, I’ll get drowsy as soon as I thaw out. Damian and I have been stuck in a freezer for the past—” I turned to Damian. “How long were we down there?”

He consulted his watch. “Almost two hours.”

“Is that
all
?” I stared at him, nonplussed. “It seemed like
ages.
”

“How time drags when you’re not having fun,” boomed Sir Percy, chuckling.

Mrs. Gammidge entered the library in our wake, as if summoned telepathically. She placed a pile of woolen blankets on the couch, looked askance at our sandy boots, relieved us of our jackets and caps, took Sir Percy’s order for cocoa and sandwiches, and departed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable?” Sir Percy asked solicitously. “You seem rather rumpled.”

I subjected him to a glare that should have scorched his eyebrows. “I am perfectly comfortable, thank you, but if you don’t tell us what’s going on, Percy, I am going to
scream.
”

“Now, now . . .” Sir Percy clucked his tongue like a disapproving nanny, led me to the sofa, and tucked a blanket around my lap. “We’ve all had a bite to eat, but you missed dinner, my poor poppet. You’ll feel better when you have some food in you.At ease, Damian,” he added over his shoulder. “You’re among friends.”

Damian took a seat at the other end of the sofa and declined Sir Percy’s offer of a blanket. He crossed one leg over the other and regarded Peter speculatively. He seemed thoughtful rather than incensed.

“We’ll wait for the comestibles, I think,” said Sir Percy, taking a seat in the chair on my right. “It’s a wonderful story—you’ll laugh about it in years to come, I promise you—and it would be a pity to spoil it with interruptions.”

Fortunately for Sir Percy, Mrs. Gammidge’s efficient household was clicking on all cylinders, and we didn’t have long to wait. In less than twenty minutes, she returned with a selection of Cook’s hearty sandwiches, an insulated pot of hot cocoa, and thick slices of moist chocolate cake topped with whipped cream.While Sir Percy helped himself to a piece of cake, I swooped down on the sandwiches like a ravening vulture and proved him right. I felt much better with food in my stomach.

When the worst pangs of our hunger had been assuaged, Sir Percy gave Peter an encouraging nod.

“The floor is yours, you young noodle,” he said. “Tell Lori and Damian all about it.”

Peter gave us a profoundly apologetic look, fortified himself with a drop of brandy, cradled the glass in his hands, and began to tell his tale.

“It’s my damnable curiosity,” he said. “I couldn’t resist investigating the legend of the screaming monks. As you know, most legends are founded in fact, so I went up to the ruins to see if a natural phenomenon created the noise people mistook for screaming.” He paused for another sip of brandy, then went on. “I was there for only a few minutes when I heard the most god-awful howls. They made my skin crawl, I can tell you, particularly since they seemed to be coming from beneath the old memorial tablet. It sounded like a dozen souls crying out to be released.”

I shivered involuntarily and fortified myself with a swig of cocoa.

“I knew there had to be a rational explanation for the howls,” Peter went on, “so I went over the tablet inch by inch, and what do you think I found?”

“Latches,” Damian replied laconically. “Elliot told us. How many did you find?”

“Two,” Peter replied. “They were designed to blend in with the deep carving around the edge of the tablet. They were so cleverly concealed, in fact, that I passed over them three times before I realized what they were. Once I’d found them, what else could I do but try them?”

“Of course you had to try them,” roared Sir Percy. “Only possible thing to do.Tell ’em what happened
next.
”

“The tablet popped open,” Peter said. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I released the latches, and one side of the tablet rose an inch or two from the ground. I examined the opposite edge and discovered that it was
hinged.
But the most remarkable thing about the tablet was its weight. The stone slab should have weighed a ton, but it was no heavier than a packed suitcase. As soon as it was open, the howling stopped. The wind, you see, was streaming up the staircase and leaking out around the tablet, making a—”

“Yes,” Sir Percy intervened, “I think we can work the trick out for ourselves, dear boy. Skip ahead to the staircase.”

“Well,” said Peter, “when I saw the staircase, I had to find out where it went.”

“Naturally,” said Damian, a bit sourly.

Peter’s face reddened and he ducked his head, but he carried on despite his embarrassment. “You know what I found down in the cave, so I needn’t describe it. Did you explore the three tunnels?”

“We did,” Damian answered.

“Then you know about the two dead ends,” said Peter. “What you don’t know is that I followed the tunnel to the sea and . . . well . . . I decided to have a go at climbing the cliffs.”

Cassie calmly reached across the space between their chairs and punched him, hard, on the shoulder. Peter flinched and grimaced but uttered no word of complaint. He must have agreed with me that he was getting off lightly. If Bill had ever tried such a harebrained stunt, I would have rewarded him with more than a punch on the shoulder.

“It was an imbecilic thing to do,” Peter acknowledged, glancing timidly at Cassie. “But the tide wasn’t high enough yet to reach the ledge and it wasn’t completely dark out, so it didn’t seem all that risky at the time. Once I reached the mouth of the cavern, I found that a staircase had been carved into the cliff.The steps were badly eroded, but there were enough of them to get me up to the coastal path.”

A rumbling chuckle sounded from Sir Percy.

“You’ll love the next part,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me and Damian. “Go on, Peter, tell them what you did next.”

Peter looked as though he would have given anything to
avoid
telling us what he did next, but he drank another drop of brandy and soldiered on.

“I didn’t want anyone to fall down the staircase by accident,” he said, carefully avoiding our eyes, “so I went back to the ruins and closed the tablet.”

The moment of stunned silence that followed was shattered by Sir Percy’s robust guffaws.

“Told you it was a wonderful story, didn’t I?” he said happily. “You run off to rescue the lad, and he seals you up all right and tight in a cave filled with skeletons! Simply marvelous! Haven’t enjoyed anything so much since Tufty Wiggins dropped a water balloon on the bishop.”

I waited stoically while Sir Percy quaked with mirth. Damian ate another sandwich and refilled our cups with cocoa. Cassie smiled vaguely, as though her mind was on other things. Peter studied the floor.

“Ah,” Sir Percy sighed, mopping his streaming eyes. “Forgive me. I promised that there would be no interruptions, but I couldn’t help myself. Pray continue, young Peter.”

“The fog was beginning to shift when I reached the coastal path,” said Peter, still staring at the floor, “so I climbed a hill and watched it for a while before walking back to the pub. When I got there, Mrs. Muggoch collared me to warn me about the journalist. She seemed to know all about our troubles with the press.”

“I imagine everyone does,” said Sir Percy, with a complacent nod. “Newspapers do reach Erinskil, and your disguises weren’t impenetrable.”

“She was very sympathetic,” Peter said.

“Of course she was,” said Sir Percy. “She’s a good-hearted woman. She wouldn’t want to see you and Cassie persecuted.”

“That’s exactly what she told me,” said Peter, “at great length. I was so grateful to her for getting rid of the journalist that I just let her go on and on.”

“We understand,” said Sir Percy. “We’re familiar with Mrs. Muggoch’s wagging tongue.”

Peter smiled wanly. “I eventually managed to extricate myself and go upstairs, where I found Cassie, Kate, and Elliot. Cassie became hyster—” He glanced cautiously at her and promptly rephrased his statement. “Cassie was justifiably upset with me, and it wasn’t until we’d calmed her down that Kate was able to explain that you two had gone looking for me.”

“I tried to ring you, Damian,” said Cassie, “until I found your mobile in the pocket of your blazer.”

Damian accepted the cell phone from Cassie’s outstretched hand and gallantly refrained from mentioning his handkerchief.

“I wouldn’t have been able to reach you even if you’d had your mobile with you,” said Cassie. “My earlier calls didn’t go through to Peter because his mobile didn’t work down in the cavern.”

“Too much solid rock,” said Damian.

“Blocked the signal,” Peter confirmed. “We rang Sir Percy, though, to find out if you’d returned. When he told us you hadn’t, I admitted to him that if you’d followed me into the cavern, I
might
have closed the memorial tablet on top of you. When he finished laughing, he ordered Elliot to go and get you.”

“I also convinced our young celebrities to move into Dundrillin,” Sir Percy interposed. “Though it would be more accurate to say that Mr. Nunen’s unwelcome arrival convinced them. Mrs. Gammidge put them in the Daffodil Suite, in the northeast tower, where they’ll be safe from prying eyes and lenses.”

“Mrs. Gammidge also decided that my entire wardrobe required laundering.” Peter smoothed the lapel of his paisley dressing gown. “Sir Percy very kindly allowed me to borrow some of his son’s night attire.”

Cassie uttered a stifled croak of laughter, which she disguised—unconvincingly—as a cough. Peter’s blush outshone his red pajamas.

Damian stirred. “About the memorial tablet . . .”

“Sir Percy told us about it,” Peter said eagerly. “It’s absolutely fascinating.”

“Feel free to share your knowledge with us,” I coaxed, looking from him to Sir Percy.

“The original tablet was damaged by shrapnel,” said Sir Percy, “when the Royal Navy was using Erinskil for target practice. When the islanders returned after the war, they replaced the original with a convincing fake.”

“Why?” I asked.

“They intended to use the caverns as a bomb shelter, if the occasion ever arose,” Sir Percy explained. “We’d entered the atomic age, remember. Bomb shelters were all the rage.”

“But why replace the original tablet with a fake?” I persisted. “The original would have given them access to the caves.The monks were able to lift it.”

“It took six strong men to lift it,” Sir Percy informed me. “The replacement is made of a composite material that a healthy child can shift. The islanders wanted everyone on Erinskil to be able to seek shelter there.”

“I believe we’re the first outsiders to enter the caverns,” Peter said with a touch of pride.

“Apart from the Vikings,” Damian murmured.

“Here endeth the lesson,” droned Sir Percy. He studied Peter and Cassie for a moment, then clapped his hands commandingly. “Off to your suite, my children. It’s well past your bedtime. Don’t lose any sleep over the journalist. Mrs. Gammidge will sort him out.”

Peter drained his glass, placed it on a table at his elbow, and flapped over to stand before me and Damian.

“I’m more sorry than I can possibly say,” he said. “If I’d known the amount of bother I’d cause, I wouldn’t have gone to the ruins.”

“It’s okay.” I pushed the blanket aside and stood to give him a hug. “You can’t help being curious.You were raised in Finch.”

“Damian?” said Peter anxiously, when I’d released him.

“No harm done,” said Damian. “But if Mrs. Gammidge suggests barricading you in the northeast tower, I won’t argue with her.”