The Heir - Catherine Coulter [107]
The old abbey ruins were bathed in the rich golden light of the afternoon sun, the rays striking the three stone arches that still stood, casting circular shadows over the large area of fallen rubble. Arabella tried her best to capture a mood of adventure. “Well, Gervaise, here we are. As you can see, the original abbey was a huge structure, covering most of this hill. See how high those two remaining arches are? On this level, only they remain. Now, of course, the rest of the walls are very nearly tumbled about themselves.
“The time we visited here before, I neglected to tell you of the abbey’s history, which was not a very happy one. My father told me that it was a sanctuary of learning for nearly four hundred years before it was pillaged and burned in the sixteenth century on the orders of King Henry.” Gervaise appeared fascinated with the recital, and she warmed to her subject. It helped pass the time. “When I was a child, I explored some of the old chambers that still exist under this level. See”—she pointed to the far perimeter of the ruins—“where the fallen rocks have been cleared away? Just below are the chambers—monks’ cells. I have been told that if you are very quiet you will hear the monks intoning their prayers.”
“Ah, very romantic, that. Elsbeth was telling me of a subterranean passageway. There are chambers still intact down there?”
“At least four or five chambers stand as they did seven hundred years ago. They are in a row off the only passage that remains uncollapsed.”
His interest seemed to kindle, his eyes shining. “We must make haste, my dear Arabella. I must see these chambers. I will never have another chance.”
Arabella hesitated. “It isn’t safe, Gervaise. I have seen some of the stone crumble just in the past ten years. Indeed, some nearly fell on me.”
He drew himself up. “I would not dare to ask you to submit your person to any hazard, dear Arabella. I insist that you remain here in safety. I shall explore the old rooms.” Masculine authority rang in his voice.
Well, damn, she thought. She couldn’t very well let him go down there alone, despite his peacock’s preening. “Oh, all right, one last time then. Let’s go.”
He looked pleased. She didn’t understand it. “I of course will do as you ask.” He gave her a flourishing bow and stepped back.
“Follow me and stay close,” she said over her shoulder, and hunched down.
Arabella skirted the massive stones to the far side of the ruins. Here all larger stones had been rolled away to preserve the passage below for as long as possible. In some places the ceiling was so thin that tiny shafts of light could be seen filtering down into the darkness below. She turned to where crooked slabs of stone still framed the stairway leading downward to the lower chambers. She peered inside.
“I forgot to bring candles. It is too dark for us to see well enough if we go down there. Sorry, comte.” There, now she could get rid of him. She wanted to find Justin. She wanted to kiss him until they were both out of breath. She wanted to ask him when he had finally realized the truth, when he had finally realized she had not betrayed him, when . . .
The comte drew two candles and matches from his waistcoat pockets. “Voilà, dear Arabella. As you see, I have come prepared to explore.”
She couldn’t believe it. She was surely cursed. She took a candle from his outstretched hand. They lit the candles, Arabella saying, “It is wretchedly dark down there at the bottom of the steps. Take care and go slowly.”
They made their way carefully down the jagged rock steps into the subterranean passage. But for the flickering of their candles, the darkness was complete. Arabella stepped gingerly over fallen stones. She wished he would fall and break his neck, but she said, “Be careful where you step, Gervaise.” Her voice sounded eerie. She paused a moment and lifted her candle above her head. “Look, it is always so.” She pointed to the walls. “They are always clammy with moisture. Isn’t that strange when the sun shines so