Page 113 of The Bachelor Spy
Or at least when they happened in books.
All they needed was a bit of fog to complete the entire scene.
It all was absolutely spectacular with waiting adventure.
The moonglow even cast their partially renovated back garden into an almost eerie hue, enough to see hedgerows and whitewashed stone walls, but not enough to delineate shadows or flowers.
Grace gave her head a shake, reining in her wild wonderings. People were searching for a missing Private Pennington and, to her shock, a missing Private Smith, throughout the house and grounds of Havensbrooke. This was no time for daydreaming.
And surely with Frederick by her side, and within the confines of the garden, they were well protected from any would-be spy mischief … to which Smith must be a party.
For a man to go from barely ambulatory to entirely missing hinted at subterfuge.
She sighed. Another person in disguise! It felt a great deal like Venice.
Almost everyone there was pretending to be someone else. Quite suitable for the City of Masks.
The back garden held two small stone buildings, one at each corner. And from the information Lady Moriah conveyed, either could hold the key.
Zahra walked between Frederick and Grace, with Frederick holding a lantern aloft to guide their way. Shams kept near enough to be seen in periphery but not close enough to be caught quickly. The cat certainly knew its own boundaries and desires.
Which, for some reason, reminded Grace of her sister Lillias.
“Let’s try the newer of the buildings first,” Frederick said, leading the way over the cobblestone path, weaving among the plants and stone walls. “I have memories of Father there more than the other.”
“How do you suppose someone created a door to lock a tunnel?” Grace whispered, casting a look out into the shadows of the forest just beyond the garden wall. “Zahra and I never found a hidden door when we visited the chapel.”
“A hidden door?” Zahra chimed in, her voice brightening with interest. “Like those in the pyramids? The ones that look like the wall?”
Frederick and Grace came to a stop and looked down at her.
“Zahra,” Frederick said slowly, lowering the lantern enough to illuminate the girl’s face with more clarity. “Have you found a secret door in the chapel?”
“There are many things to find in this place,” she answered with a shrug, as if discovering secret doors was perfectly ordinary. “But yes. I found a door behind a large curtain.”
Frederick’s gaze shot to Grace’s.
“Was it by the font?” Grace asked, but at the girl’s curious look, she attempted to clarify. “The stone … table near where I found the button last time we were there?”
“Yes.” Zahra’s eyes brightened. “But it was behind the curtain. And covered with a door that looked like a stone. I only saw it two days past, because Shams went behind the curtain and I followed her.” Of course the cat had found it.
“You were at the chapel two days ago by yourse—” Frederick paused and released a slow breath. There was no point in reprimanding her at this moment. Frederick knew as well as Grace that Zahra hadn’t gone to the chapel out of defiance. She was an obedient child usually, but when left without very direct instruction, she roamed. She’d gotten used to it on the streets of Cairo, and keeping her indoors too long had the same effect on her as it did on Grace.
It made them a bit sad and restless.
“And the door itself looked like stone?” Grace asked Zahra.
“But it was not stone. It was painted. Very clever.” Zahra’s admiration was evident. “I thought it was only wall until I pushed and it moved a little. But it was locked.”
“Did you see a keyhole?” Frederick asked.
“Yes, very large.” She nodded. “Bigger than the one for my room.” She tried to show it with her fingers.
Frederick looked up at Grace. “At least that gives us a little extra hint about the key. We’re looking for a larger one. Likely iron.”
“Your mother said the key was in a wooden box on the upper shelf in one of the garden houses. Do you think your father would have been particular enough to place it among other keys, or would he have kept it separate?”
“I don’t know,” Frederick said, continuing their walk. “He was always particular, but it didn’t seem as though he cared much for the chapel or tunnel beneath, so he could have discarded it with others.”
