Chapter Thirty Six
The chime from the ornate, oversized clock in the hall began to sound as Elizabeth stood under the staircase. She silently counted to twelve, looking about her in the darkened alcove. No lamplight or candle light penetrated here, and the air was eerily still. The Fleur had chosen his meeting spot well. Try as she might, she could see nothing in the shadows under the grand steps. Even the music and conversation from the ballroom nearby was muted, all sound swallowed by the peculiarities of the space with the carpet and the curtains nearby. she might as well be the only person in the entire building. Where was the Fleur? She advanced blindly into the dark, groping in front of her as she went.
A whisper, a hushed voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, reached her ear. "Stop," it commanded her. "Do not turn around."
She stopped. Though soft, the disembodied voice was so compelling that she instinctively obeyed. She listened intently, hardly daring to breathe, but the voice was silent. After waiting some maddening seconds she asked, "Where are you?"
"Do not turn around!" the whispered voice answered. She could not tell anything about the speaker. The voice was so muffled, so obscured that she could not guess at anything about the owner. Was he young or old? And where was he? She would have guessed at first that he was in front of her, but now he seemed to be behind. Was he circling her? Yet she had heard no footsteps to betray his movements.
"I must speak with you!"
"Why are you here?" the voice countered.
"Are you the Fleur de Lys?" she asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"I need to speak to the Fleur! I need him to help my uncle, who is trapped in France!"
There was a pause. Then, "Many are trapped in France. Why should the Fleur help you?"
"If the Fleur does not help my uncle, he and his family will die!"
No answer came through the darkness, and Elizabeth felt no sympathy in the air.
"I also need to tell him . . . " Elizabeth paused and gulped painfully. "I have betrayed the Fleur. He- or you- will soon be discovered."
An even longer pause. "Explain."
"I stole and read a letter from the Fleur de Lys to Colonel Fitzwilliam. The letter said that the Fleur would be here at midnight. I told Mr. Wickham."
"Why?" The single whispered word contained both outrage and betrayal.
"Wickham promised he would help my uncle escape if I helped him, and that he might betray my uncle if I did not. But I did not know that I would be betraying the Fleur himself!"
"What is Wickham to you?" The voice seemed to be closer now. Was that a footstep off to her left?
"Nothing! He means nothing to me."
"Rumor says you are in love with him."
"The rumors are wrong!" Elizabeth said bitterly. "Wickham spread gossip to show me his power, but I never loved him. I only helped him to help my family. But even then, I was not truthful. I told him the Fleur would be here at half past twelve instead of twelve. I gave him the wrong time so that I could come here before him and warn him myself!"
She thought she heard a small intake of air, not quite a gasp. "If this is true, you are very brave."
"Please, you must save yourself! You must not be here when Wickham arrives."
"Nor should you."
The voice seemed closer, perhaps inches away, from the dark directly behind her. She was tempted to take a step backwards, to see if she would encounter the speaker's form. Or to turn around blindly and reach into the darkness. "Why do you feel so close? Where are you?"
"You must leave now. When I tell you, you must close your eyes and turn around. Then take five steps forward. Do not open your eyes."
"Why may I not see you?"
"You must not open your eyes!"
The voice was so commanding that she obeyed, closing her eyes and turning to face the direction she came. "Can you save my family?" she whispered into the dark, hardly daring to hope.
"They will be safe."
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, urging her forward. She stepped blindly as directed, her arms out before her. "Can you ever forgive me for betraying you?" There was no answer. "Will you?"
There was no sound, not a breath of air, no sense of movement around her. But she thought she felt a caress on her cheek, a touch as light as a feather. The touch was so light that it might have been wishful thinking, a hope taking form from her own imagination. Then it was gone and she heard a light rustle, a sound like the brush of a bird's wing. She opened her eyes but saw nothing as she walked forward two steps, then three and four, and then finally into the light. When she stopped and turned around, peering towards the dark, there was no one there.
At half past midnight a blond man in fine clothes approached the staircase from the direction of the ballroom, stepping slowly and silently across the carpeted floor. In his hand he held a small lantern, one whose light was hidden behind a metal shield. It would not illuminate anything until the shield was sprung open, allowing the light inside to escape.
Holding his breath, the man crept past the lowest stair and advanced several feet until he was just at the edge of where the cavernous opening under the staircase began. He paused dramatically for a moment, listening intently. Then, with a loud exclamation, he threw open the lantern covering. At the same time he turned and sprang into the darkness.
The shadows under the staircase receded and the furthermost corners showed clearly; all was revealed. From the smallest space directly under the lowest stair, all the way to the opposite wall, there was no place to hide. But the space was empty; there was no one there. The only person standing under the staircase, waiting for a secret meeting to occur, was the blond man himself.
"Damnation!" He swung his lantern wide, back and forth, letting the light play over the walls and the back side of the stairs as he turned this way and that. His face contorted in fury. "Where is that man? Where is the Fleur de Lys?" A distant sound of laughter made him straighten and look behind him, but when he realized it came from the ballroom he looked forward again. A look of desperation came across his face. He held the lantern out at arm's length.
Starting at the far end of the space, he began to pace slowly back and forth, methodically examining every inch of the floor, working his way patiently towards the front.
At length his search was rewarded: there was a glint of metal in the carpet. He crouched down to examine the item where it lay, directly under the edge of the staircase, where there was barely enough room for a man to stand. Then, with a curious look, he reached out and picked the object up. He held it in one hand as he rose to his feet and brought the lantern close. With a disbelieving gasp, he held it up to his eye and turned it slightly, trying to make out the details of the small piece of gold. When recognition dawned he clenched his fist tightly over the item, and his lips tightened in a thin grimace. He spun on one heel and marched away without a backward glance.
The item he had discovered was a small gold cufflink. And the only decoration on it was a distinctive letter G.
So now Wickham knows that Elizabeth has betrayed him! What will he do in response, and when will Elizabeth realize who she really spoke to under the staircase? Come back in three weeks to find out! In the meantime, please leave a note to let me know what you thought of these two chapters. Our story is beginning to move towards its climax. I can't wait to see what you have to say as it develops! See you here again soon! -Elaine