Heart of Darkness (13 page)

The thought made her laugh through her quick
puffs of breath and hearing something behind her and presuming it
to be a furious Wolfe, she ducked into a door. Dropping her skirts
with relief, she slammed her hands to her knees and gasped for
air.

Isabeau had forgotten what an art form it was
to simply exist in these kinds of dresses. She had grown accustomed
to light linen shifts and thin dresses without the opulence of this
crushed velvet that was her current robe.

When she had regained her breath, she pressed
an ear to the crack in the door. Hearing nothing, she opened it
slightly and then, when a noise sounded loud just a way down the
corridor, Isabeau quietly pressed it shut again. Her heart was
pounding in her ears as she spun around, but any emotion she was
currently feeling, suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a
startled surprise.

It was a child's nursery.

Wolfe's?

Who else, she reprimanded herself with a
faint and inelegant snort.

It was a strange room. Filled with all that
was required in a nursery, yet there was no...Isabeau sighed and
contemplated the room.

It was easy to see that a lot of funds had
been spent on this particular nursery. There was a cleverly painted
night sky on the ceiling. A shining moon that looked almost as
though it were illuminated from behind and so, very life-like. It
was bizarre to see the moon shining through the window and then see
one glistening above her.

She could imagine the joy of waking up as a
baby and spotting such delicate stars and then the luminescent orb
that was the moon. Of course, as an infant, one would not know that
those painted spheres were not real. How marvelous! She thought
with a faint smile.

The walls were blank, but considering that
the painted canopy covered the entirety of the room, down to the
picture rail which was suspended about two feet from the ceiling,
the night sky truly dominated the entire nursery.

The room was bizarrely shaped and somewhat of
a hexagon. There were two doors leading from this, the obviously
central room. One probably led to the nanny's room and the other,
more than likely, to the schoolroom. But there was no sign of a
child's bed, which was bizarre.

Oh, there was a crib, a heavy and rather
gloomy looking one at that, but there was no miniature mattress for
a little boy to sleep upon.

On one of the longer of the six walls, there
was a fender behind which the child could toddle in safety. In
front of that, there was a heavy set rocking horse, with real horse
hair that sported missing tufts from greedy and rough little
fingers.

A cane rocking chair sat in another corner
and there were myriad toys placed higgedly piggedly about the room,
although everything was neat and tidy.

It was a curious room. The mural above spoke
of one thing, of a desire to inspire a small mind and then the rest
of the room was dull. Expensively furnished, but dull all the
same.

The fact that this was a nursery at all
perplexed Isabeau somewhat. More often than not, the nurseries in
houses such as these were relatively high up and away from the more
adult rooms. But she knew that this was not the top floor, nor even
the second to top, as she had seen the many stories above her head
only the other day.

Walking through the opening to the left of
the nursery, one of the two offshoots that led to God only knew
where! In a regular house, she would have said a small kitchen, or
the nanny's bedroom or even a schoolroom! But as she walked
through, a part of her wasn't surprised to see another staircase.
Honestly, this place was like a maze!

She wished that before she took to the
stairs, she could open one of the nursery windows and peer down to
see which floor she was currently on, but she couldn't afford the
noise that the window would make as it was moved. And knowing her
luck, it was more than likely fixed anyway!

Rushing down the stairs, she came out on to a
completely different level. There was something more medieval about
this floor. Something that said this was the oldest part of the
castle.

Her mind was confused and totally unsure of
her actual position in the property. For the oldest part was
usually the closest to the ground, yet she knew that she couldn't
possibly be on the ground floor! Didn't she?

She felt almost as though she were going
slowly insane!

The room Wolfe had taken her to and the one
in which she had slept, had been on the third floor at least. She
had then climbed another set of stairs to take her to the fourth
floor--or even the fifth considering the length of that staircase,
she thought with a wry laugh--and now she had descended another
story! So she should be back on the original level! Not somewhere
completely and utterly different!

Dammit!

Where on earth was she?

Spinning around and attempting to take stock
of her position, she supposed that she could be on the opposite
side of the castle but could she have traveled so far without even
knowing it?

Her childhood home in Norwilthton had been
large and rather sprawled but there had been some...arrangement to
it. It had made sense. But this, she did not have a clue to her
whereabouts and even if she wanted to be found, Isabeau wasn't sure
how to go about doing so!

She wasn't frightened, but she was slightly
disturbed! After all, it wasn't as though she would be stuck here
for the rest of her days. A servant was bound to come to clean and
then, they would spot her. Wouldn't they?

It was dark in here. Not pitch black, but
dark enough to have her heart fluttering in her chest. Moonlight
was streaming in from somewhere. Where, she did not know for
certain, as there were no windows in this particular corridor.

Licking suddenly dry lips, Isabeau walked
over to one of the coats of arms and swiped a finger along it.
There was very little dust and still some of the residue of the
polish the servants used to clean the metal. Grimacing, because
that meant that this part of the castle had been cleaned and
recently, she felt slightly claustrophobic. Surrounded by battle
regalia and weaponry as she was.

A part of her wished that she had never
attempted to leave her damned chamber! Now, she was completely lost
and despite herself, despite the fact that she knew she was safe
and that in the past, she had dealt with worse, she started to
panic. It was not a sensation she relished.

Running down the corridor, she almost rushed
into a wall as it veered suddenly to the right. Again, there was
very little light. Only a dull gleam as what little there was,
reflected off the metal weapons and body armor.

She gulped as she neared another dead end, or
so she thought. Raising her arms before her, she walked forwards
and found another sharp corridor opening. She rushed down and cried
out as she tumbled down a short set of stairs. It was a winder, so
she came to a halt on the short landing.

Isabeau thanked the Lord for his mercy.

The remaining stairs revealed another source
of light, but they also highlighted the steps--steep and narrow.
She could have sustained terrible injuries falling down a staircase
like that.

As it was, she had hurt her wrist and her
neck. She would probably have a few bruises on her buttocks and
hips and actually, her nose. Lifting a hand, she tenderly fingered
the soft appendage and winced as a jolt of pain sliced through the
thin cartilage there.

Getting to her feet with a grimace, she
stooped a little and placed her hands at her waist so as to give
herself extra support and then, peered down the remainder of the
stairs. As her back and hips mightily protested the movement of her
descent, she wished heartily for her ring to cure her of her
ailments.

Although she prided herself on her toughness
and her strength, especially after the gentility of her
adolescence, Isabeau was not accustomed to pain. Healing herself
had been one of the first tricks she had ever learned, when the
ring had come into her possession. So, having to deal with the
aches and pains of the hellishly long hikes she walked, had never
been an issue. Now, just those few steps had her cringing and
aching and she knew that she wouldn't be able to continue if the
pain didn't desist.

It frightened her somewhat, as although there
was light, it was still dim for it was after all, night and she had
no candles! Neither did she have food or water and although Wolfe
would undoubtedly be searching for her, the size of the property
was vast. She had already known that but having traversed around
its damned corridors for the last half an hour, she knew it to be
even larger than she had ever imagined!

It could take a day for him to find her!

She gulped and told herself to stop being
silly. Wolfe wasn't only one man, he had a legion of staff to serve
this place. They would also be seeking her and they would find her.
If she couldn't move from this spot, then they would still find her
or face Wolfe's wrath.

She licked her lips again and wished for some
ale or wine to wet her mouth. The exertion had been doubled by the
dress, which hampered her movements and she felt almost desperate
for some refreshment.

With a sigh, she stiffly lowered herself to
the bottom step and rested there. Leaning her head against the
railing, she blew out a rough breath and then inhaled deeply. She
continued do so for the next few minutes and felt more relaxed for
having done so.

Hating the very idea of being stuck on the
bottom step until Wolfe or one of his servants deemed to find her,
she considered healing herself. She had never done it before
without the ring, neither had she summoned a man! Yet Wolfe had
soon arrived at her door. That had to mean that while the onyx
helped, the power was inside her soul.

Bowing her head at the thought, she
determined to do it but still, bit anxiously at her lip at the
thought of it not working.

Deciding to be positive, Isabeau looked
inward for that searing heat that flushed through her system and
healed all aches. Closing her eyes more firmly, she shut out the
faint light that came from ahead and instead, focused upon
relaxing. Her heart beat slowed down to a steady, quiet pulse. Her
breathing whistled in and out of her mouth. She felt calm, felt
well.

Internally, she sought the fire ball that
glided gracefully through her veins, seeking pain and curing it
with its great power and with a blink, rather than feeling the burn
throughout every inch of her system, she felt it on her finger.

Looking down at the hand the ring normally
sat upon, Isabeau blinked as there it was.

Tilting her head to the side, then licking
and alternately biting her lips nervously, she contemplated the
apparition. She gulped and lifted it to her eye. The burning
sensation continued and Isabeau stared at her hand as though it
didn't belong to her.

Uncomprehending, she blinked and blinked
again, then when that didn't work and the ring stuck fast, she
rubbed her eyes. A hiss escaped her mouth as the cold stone grazed
her cheekbone and only then, did she believe it was there.

Somehow...it had traveled to her finger.

Madness.

When her breathing whooshed out of her lungs,
she simply stared at the ring as though she had gone mad and
attempted to reassemble her thoughts into some kind of lucidity,
because at this moment in time, she felt more insane than sane.

A slight shudder wracked her frame as she
managed to successfully assemble her thoughts into order. The first
thing that leapt out at her was the realization that her plan could
now change.

While she'd only fled to teach him a lesson
and that he would be foolish to underestimate her, there was no
reason why she shouldn't take advantage of the situation by fleeing
for real.

Using the ring to heal herself, she shivered
as all the twinges and aches and pains that had assailed her after
her tumble down the stairs disappeared. With a relieved sigh, she
climbed to her feet and headed towards the light that filled the
corridor. It had to be one of the enchanted candles that she'd seen
in her dream that had illuminated the passes she'd recently
traversed, for even though it seemed like a lifetime ago since she
had glimpsed the outdoors, she knew it to be night. Pitch black
night.

She hoped to God that there was a window
here, because that was now her only chance of escape, considering
she didn't have a clue where she was. This new hallway was lined
with paintings. Heavy oil encrusted canvases that she could only
presume depicted the local countryside. She noticed that all of the
paintings included heather. A part of her wondered if that implied
they were in Bonnie Scotland. It was possible, a guess it may be,
but it was distinctly possible.

When he had captured her, they had been in
Lancashire. They had traveled far and for long periods of time and
at great speed. They could indeed have crossed the border and taken
her from England.

As she traversed the length of the corridor,
she came across some work that she recognized to be from the High
Renaissance. They were only small works, but the call reminded her
of etchings she had seen in one of her father's newspapers that had
reported upon one of the galleries in London's recent purchase of
Italian paintings.