“It’s likely my son left to prevent things breaking down further, and to think of a plan to improve matters when he returns. That’s his way. He’ll come back soon, because you’re his. You’re his wife.” He leaned close to hold her gaze. “And if the two of you can open your hearts to each other, you’ll soon be as happily married as his mother and me.”
Because you’re his. Wescott had used the same type of phrase when he upset her so. You’re mine, you know. I like that you belong to me. In her fear, she’d interpreted his words as overbearing and evil, but maybe he’d meant them affectionately. Protectively. He’d done so much to protect her, from the fire, from her nightmares, and all she’d done in return was malign him and push him away. Tears fell again, more pitiful this time than sorrowful.
“There, child,” said the duke, so patiently. “All will be well.”
“You must think I’m the silliest, weakest woman in Christendom.” She waved his handkerchief with a self-deprecating sigh.
“No. I think you’re a very strong person. So is my son.” He thought a moment. “Whatever you have lost in marrying Jack—and I’m sure there are many things—you must look at it this way. You shall not want in safety or security for the rest of your life. A good marriage, with both hearts in order, will bring happiness beyond measure, because you’ll always be there for one another, no matter the ups and downs. He will be back, and soon. He is far too stubborn to give up on you.”
His serious expression lightened a little, and he took a breath. “Speaking of safety and security, what of this armory you wish to uncover? Come, Ophelia, let’s see what the library has in the way of house plans. I believe there were some drawings made in my great-grandfather’s time, as they planned some modernizing refurbishments. Let’s see.”
He crossed to a long set of drawers beneath one of the shelves and started pulling them open. Ophelia joined him, marveling at the variety of contents. There were sketches and drawings, political pamphlets, scrapbooks, household ledgers, and handwritten pages of music she’d have to peek at later. He moved to another set of drawers, riffling through some longer sheets and drawings, and finally made a sound of satisfaction.
“Here we are.” He took out a set of plans nearly as wide as the drawer itself, bound together by silver clips. He carried them to the largest library desk, and brought a lamp for extra light. “Sit down, dear. Have a look at them. Do you have much math?”
She shook her head. “No, Your Grace. Er, Papa.” Now that she’d cried on the kind man’s shoulder, it was a little easier to address him so. “When I started singing, my parents chose to focus my studies on music.”
“Ah, but music is mathematical in many ways. Where should we start? The basement corridors? The first or second floor? The third floor or the attic?”
Ophelia bit her lip, getting caught up in the duke’s enthusiasm. “I think the basement is too obvious a choice. If they wanted to hide a room full of armor, they’d put it on one of the upper floors. Wouldn’t they?”
“Indeed, it’s not in the basement.” He flipped the pages open, and they looked together at the drawings and measurements. In her music school, she would have felt too nervous to concentrate if she was being tested so, one on one, but the duke made her feel comfortable, even entertained. He made various guiding noises as she pored over the plans, murmuring “warmer” when she looked at certain areas, and “colder” when she seemed to lose the track.
At last, purely by chance, she noticed a discrepancy in the height of the kitchen storage rooms compared to that of the adjacent dining room and the ballroom, which occupied two floors. “Perhaps it’s around here,” she said, hoping she was right. She circled the areas on the neatly scribed plans. “I think it’s got to be here, but they haven’t put it down on paper.”
“Indeed. Because there was a time, for security, that the lords of this manor kept secrets. The weapons and food stores were kept somewhat close, in case of an invasion or unexpected siege. Shall we go look? Now that you know the general vicinity, you’ll find it with no trouble at all.”
He refused to give her any further direction, his blue eyes still twinkling with challenge. Ophelia decided to start in the kitchen and work back toward the storerooms, but she got nowhere. She gave her favorite cat a pat on the head as they left the kitchen and walked through the dining room to the ballroom. In past centuries, it had been a Great Hall, and it still had a high stone balcony. She stood in the middle of the smooth floor where guests might dance or dine, and looked up, turning in a circle.