Paragon Walk - Anne Perry [96]
“I—” To Charlotte’s amazement, Phoebe blushed scarlet, the color burning painfully up her face to the very roots of her hair. “I—” She blinked, and her eyes filled with tears and looked away. “I had confidence it could not be him—that—that is what I meant to say.”
“But you do know there is something wrong in the Walk!” Emily took advantage of the moment, and Charlotte’s sudden silence.
Phoebe stared at her, her eyes widening as her mind flooded with a great question.
“You know what it is?” she breathed.
Emily hesitated, unsure which was best, to lie, or to admit ignorance. She compromised.
“I know something. And I mean to fight it! Will you help us?”
It was masterly. Charlotte looked at her with admiration.
Phoebe took her arm, squeezing it till the pressure made her wince.
“Oh, don’t, Emily! You can’t realize what you are doing! The danger isn’t over, you know. There will be more, and worse! Believe me!”
“Then we must fight it!”
“We can’t! It is too big, and too dreadful. Just wear a cross, say your prayers every night and morning; and don’t go out at night. Don’t even look out of your windows. Just stay at home and don’t inquire into anything! Do as I say, Emily, and maybe it won’t come after you.”
Charlotte wanted to say more, but she was hurt inside by such fear. She grasped Emily.
“Perhaps that is good advice.” She swallowed her feelings. “If you will excuse us, we must speak to Lady Tamworth. We have not even acknowledged her yet.”
“Of course,” Phoebe murmured. “But, do be careful, Emily! Remember what I said.”
Emily gave her a weak smile and walked reluctantly toward Lady Tamworth.
It was another half hour before they had the opportunity to fade behind the rosebeds and disappear, unobserved, into the private part of the garden. They were in a herbaceous walk, backed by an even taller hedge of beach, quite impenetrable.
“Where now?” Charlotte asked.
“Behind that,” Emily answered. “There has to be a way around it or else a gate.”
“I hope it isn’t locked.” Charlotte was annoyed at the thought. It would stop them completely. Oddly enough, it had not occurred to her before, because she never locked doors herself.
They walked along side by side, searching the thick leaves till they found the door, almost overgrown.
“It looks as if it isn’t used!” Emily said in disbelief. “This can’t be it.”
“Wait a minute.” Charlotte looked at it more closely, studying the hinges. “It opens the other way. It must be all cleared on the other side, for it to swing. Try it.”
Emily pushed. It did not move.
Charlotte felt her heart sink. It was locked.
Emily pulled a pin out of her hair and pushed it into the lock.
“You can’t do it with that.” Charlotte let all her disappointment into her voice.
Emily ignored her and went on poking. She took the pin out and straightened it, making a loop on one end, then tried again.
“There,” she said with satisfaction, and pushed the flat surface of the door gently. It swung open without a sound.
Charlotte was staggered.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she demanded.
Emily grinned. “My housekeeper’s always taking the keys with her, even to bed, and I hate being obliged to ask her to get into my own linen cupboard. I thought it was rather a nice trick. Come on, let’s see what is through there.”
They tiptoed through the door and swung it shut behind them. At first it was disappointing, just a large garden room set out in paved walkways with little plots of green herbs between. They went all the way round it, but there was nothing else.
Emily stopped, disgusted.
“Why on earth bother to lock the gate to this?” she said angrily. “There’s nothing here!”
Charlotte bent to touch one of the herb leaves and crush it between her fingers. It smelled bitter and aromatic.
“I wonder if it is some sort of drug,” she said thoughtfully.
“Nonsense!” Emily brushed it aside. “Opium comes from poppies, and they grow in Turkey, or China, or somewhere.”
“There are other things.” Charlotte refused to give up. “What a peculiar shape this garden is, I mean the