Elliot always felt better when he was with Priti. How much better would he feel if he and Juliana surrounded themselves with more wee ones, all red haired like their mother? A whole nursery of children for Priti to play with and for Elliot to bask in.
The steps he’d have to take in order to bring in those wee ones made his heart lighter.
His body warmed at the memory of Juliana in the dining room, her body under his on the table, how fine it had been to climb into bed with her later and draw her back against his body. He would have done more if he hadn’t had to spend considerable time calming down McGregor. Tonight he would—
The woods didn’t change, and only silence flooded it. But Elliot halted, every nerve alert.
He scanned the hill that rose to his left, its towering trees cutting off his line of sight in that direction. But he knew. The prickle in the back of his neck told him.
There was a watcher in these woods.
And he was watching Elliot.
The thought rose—Please, not again—but Elliot squelched it. He was mad, yes, but his madness couldn’t make an entire wood go silent.
Woods teemed with life. Birds, beasts, and insects lived out their existence in their particular strip of territory—they were born, raised, ventured from the nest, found mates, raised their own young, and died. All that life made noise.
A silent wood meant a predator, one so deadly that all animals stilled, as Elliot did. That predator might be a bear, a wolf, or more likely these days, a human.
How long Elliot stood unmoving under the noiseless trees, he wasn’t certain.
Gradually, the sounds began to return. A robin called, another challenged. Undergrowth rustled—squirrels or rabbits returning to their business.
Elliot scanned the hill again. Nothing had changed. But the animals knew, as Elliot knew, that the hunter had gone.
He remembered now why he’d gone to the boiler room, his excitement in finding the trapdoor. He remembered what he’d been looking for before his mind had seized him and transported him to the past.
Elliot started walking, fast, faster, until he was running down the slope, back to discover whether he’d been right.
Mahindar informed Juliana that Elliot was not there when she arrived home from her call to the Terrells, but before she had the chance to worry, Elliot came striding in through the open front door.
“Juliana, come with me.”
He was out of breath and walking swiftly, but his eyes were alight with determination.
Juliana opened her mouth to ask where he wanted to take her, but closed it when he shoved a shortbread-scented package at Mahindar, grabbed Juliana by the hand, and started pulling her to the kitchen.
“May I at least take off my hat?” she asked.
Elliot frowned down at the hat’s saucy tilt of brim, the feathers that curled over the crown, and the ruche of ribbon in the front. He wasn’t studying the hat, Juliana realized, but deciding a way to conquer it.
His fingers made short work of the pins, then he lifted off the hat and tossed it into the hands of Channan, who’d hurried out of the kitchen to join them.
Elliot took Juliana’s hand again and towed her onward, through the kitchen, down the stairs in the back of the scullery, and to the darkness of the cellar and the heat of the boiler room.
At least the boiler was working now. A red flicker came from the great hulk of iron in the corner, which would heat water for the kitchen, and with luck and time, the bathrooms upstairs. By this light, Elliot lit two candle lanterns and passed her one.
Mahindar appeared in the doorway. “Sahib, why are you down here again?”
Elliot handed Mahindar his lantern, shed his coat, pushed up his sleeves, and hauled open the heavy trapdoor.
“Because I remembered why I came down here this morning.” He took the lantern back from Mahindar. “You stay up here,” he told the man. “I want someone to know where we are in case the door falls closed, and I can’t open it. Which is what happened to me this morning.”
“Ah,” Mahindar said, as though that explained everything.
“Juliana?” Elliot asked. “Are you willing to explore with me?”
“Perhaps the memsahib will want to change her dress,” Mahindar said. “It is powerfully dirty down there.”
Juliana glanced down at her rust-colored silk. She had liked the gown when she’d put it on, but now it was tainted by the fact that she’d worn it to meet the Dalrymples. Elliot was impatient, and Juliana didn’t want to take the time to go upstairs and change.
“That’s all right,” she said. “After all, I’ve worn it once now.”
The flippant remark did not have the desired effect. Elliot said nothing, and Mahindar looked distressed. “Wait, I beg you. Wait one moment.”
He dashed off and came running back in less than a minute with a large, white, flapping garment. He set Juliana’s lantern on the floor, bunched up the garment, and dropped it over Juliana’s head.
It was one of Mahindar’s, Juliana realized as she settled it, the long shirts that went over his white trousers. This one was clean and large enough to cover most of Juliana’s gown.
“I don’t want to ruin it,” Juliana said.
Mahindar waved that away and shoved the lantern back into her hand. “I have many. Go. Go.”
Elliot lowered himself into the hole, set his lantern on the edge, and reached up to lift Juliana down with him.
He had to stoop in the low room below, but this time, the closeness did not appear to worry him. As soon as Juliana had steadied herself next to him, Elliot led her onward.
“I have something I must tell you,” Juliana said as she followed Elliot into the bowels of the old castle. “I’m afraid it concerns Mr. Archibald Stacy.”
Elliot did not answer. He strode on quickly, despite having to bend head and shoulders, and Juliana hurried to keep up with him.
“You are most exasperating, Elliot McBride,” she said.
He reached back and took her hand again. “I know.”
His strong grip was a lifeline, pulling her through the dark. Their lamps were weak, candles illuminating only small circles of space. Hamish had promised that kerosene was on its way to the house, although perhaps wax candles inside tin lanterns were a bit safer down in this unknown darkness.
“Where are we going?” Juliana whispered. There was no need to whisper, but the dense warmth around them seemed to require it.
Elliot answered in normal tones, sounding perfectly sane. “When I was a lad, I found the plans of the old castle in one of the books in Uncle McGregor’s library. The castle had been a giant of a place, with underground storage and living quarters, in case of siege. Uncle McGregor brought me down here and showed me a little of it then, and I started exploring it again after I bought the place.”