Read Chapter 24: The Secret Meeting

The crypt smelled of stone and old earth, a cold that seeped through Evelyn’s boots as she descended the narrow stairs behind Mary’s lantern. Mary moved without speaking, her shawl pulled tight, and Evelyn kept one hand on the damp wall to steady herself. The air grew heavier with every step, and when they reached the flagged floor, the lantern light carved a small circle out of the dark, catching the edges of tombs and the worn inscriptions of Blackwoods long dead.

Annabel stood against the far wall, half-hidden in shadow. She wore a plain grey dress, no bonnet, and her hands were clasped in front of her like a penitent. When she saw Evelyn, something in her face shifted—relief, perhaps, or wariness. Evelyn could not tell which.

“You came,” Annabel said, her voice low.

“I said I would.” Evelyn stepped forward, out of Mary’s reach. The housekeeper lingered by the stairs, lantern raised, her gaze flickering between them. “Mary, give us a moment.”

The woman hesitated, then set the lantern on a stone ledge and retreated up the stairs, her footsteps fading into silence.

Annabel moved closer. In the dim light, her eyes looked almost black, the shadows beneath them deep. “He told you to leave by morning.”

“He did.” Evelyn watched her. “You knew he would.”

“I knew he wouldn’t listen.” Annabel’s mouth twisted. “It’s always been that way. Mama speaks, and he nods. He’s never once opened his mouth to disagree with her—not that I’ve seen, anyway.”

“He was shaken when I left him. More than he wanted me to see.”

Annabel let out a sound that was almost a laugh. “Being shaken and being brave are different things. He’ll send me off to some aunt in the north before he ever raises his voice against her.” She paused, something flickering across her face. “Miss Hartley, I need to tell you something. About Miss Reeves.”

Evelyn’s heart quickened. “Go on.”

“You asked me before when she disappeared. I told you it was the second of the month.” Annabel’s hands twisted in her skirt. “That was true, but I didn’t tell you everything. I didn’t think you’d believe me. I don’t think anyone would.”

Evelyn kept her voice steady. “I believe you now. Whatever it is.”

Annabel looked toward the stairs, as if afraid someone might be listening, then back. “It was nearly midnight. I couldn’t sleep—I’d had a dream about my mother, a bad one, and I got up to fetch a glass of water. The servants’ quarters were quiet. I passed Miss Reeves’s door, and it was open. Just a crack. I saw her packing a bag, moving fast, and I thought she must be leaving—I’d heard the talk, you see, that she was going to be sent away.”

She swallowed, and her voice dropped. “I went in. I asked her if it was true, if she was leaving me. She took my hand and told me not to be frightened. She said she was going to get help, and that she’d come back for me. That we would leave together, go somewhere safe.”

Evelyn’s breath caught. The unfinished letter. Miss Reeves had meant to return.

“Then what?” she asked.

Annabel’s eyes glistened. “She heard something in the corridor. She pushed me behind the door, told me not to make a sound, not to move no matter what. And then two men came in. Big men, in dark coats. They didn’t see me—I was behind the door, and they were facing her.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice cracked. “They grabbed her. She fought them, Miss Hartley. She bit one of them on the hand. But they were too strong. One of them put his hand over her mouth, and they dragged her out.”

“You saw where they took her?”

Annabel nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. “I followed them. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t just stay there. I kept to the shadows, crept along the corridor after them. They went down the back stairs, out through the kitchen door. I thought—I thought they’d take her to a carriage, somewhere they could carry her off. But they didn’t.”

She paused, and the silence stretched.

“They took her to the old summer house. The one at the far edge of the gardens, past the fountain. It’s been locked for years, but they had a key.”

Evelyn’s mind raced. The summer house—she had seen it only once, from a distance, its windows boarded, the ivy thick over its walls. She had assumed it was merely abandoned, another relic of the estate’s neglect. She had never imagined it as a place of confinement.

“Did you go inside?” Evelyn asked.

Annabel shook her head. “I waited outside. I stood behind the trees until the men came out, about an hour later. They locked the door and left the way they came. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I called her name through the boards, but she didn’t answer.” Her voice broke. “I was so frightened. I ran back to the house, and I—I went to my room. I told no one. Not until now.”

Evelyn’s hands had begun to tremble. She pressed them together to still them. “You said she didn’t answer. You’re certain?”

“Certain.” Annabel’s voice was barely a whisper. “There was no sound at all. I thought she might be dead. I thought they’d killed her and left her body there.”

Evelyn felt the cold of the crypt seep into her spine. The letters she had hidden in her room, the debt note from Mrs. Hutchins, the confession of hired men—it all pointed to one thing. Beatrice had wanted Miss Reeves gone. But if Miss Reeves had been taken to the summer house and had not come out, then the question was not where the governess had fled to, but where her body had been hidden.

“The summer house,” Evelyn repeated slowly. “Is it still locked?”

“I don’t know.” Annabel’s eyes searched Evelyn’s face. “I’ve not dared go near it since. Mama has watched me close, and the other servants know better than to go there. They say it’s haunted.”

Haunted. Perhaps it was. Perhaps the ghost of Miss Reeves had been waiting there all along, waiting for someone to find the truth.

Evelyn took a breath, steadying herself. “We go tomorrow, at first light. Before your mother wakes, before your brother can force me off the estate. Can you meet me by the fountain?”

Annabel’s expression flickered with something like hope. “They will look for me if I’m missing from my room.”

“Then we must be fast.” Evelyn reached out and took Annabel’s hand. It was cold, small, trembling. “Whatever we find there, it will be better than the not knowing. It has to be.”

Annabel squeezed her fingers once, hard. “You will not leave me?”

“I will not leave you,” Evelyn said. “I give you my word.”

But as she said it, a shadow moved at the top of the stairs. Mary’s figure had returned, just visible in the faint light from the crypt entrance. She was not descending. She was standing very still, her head turned as if listening.

Evelyn did not know how long Mary had been there or how much she had heard.

“Mary,” Evelyn called up, keeping her voice calm. “We are finished.”

The figure shifted, then began to descend. But in that brief moment, Evelyn saw something that turned her blood cold—the hem of a dark dress peeking from beneath Mary’s petticoat, not the grey wool of the housekeeper’s usual uniform but something finer. Something that caught the light like silk.

Mary reached the crypt floor and lifted the lantern. Her face was serene, but her eyes moved to Annabel and then back to Evelyn with an expression that was impossible to read.

“You should not stay long,” Mary said quietly. “There are ears in this house that never sleep.”