She could only pray they realized it, too.
What had Creath told Joseph before they’d come running back into the great room? Chrystabel wished she could get him alone to ask.
“Did you hear what Arabel said?” Creath’s whisper sounded panicked. “He brought a priest-hunter. A priest-hunter!”
“What’s a priest-hunter?” Chrystabel asked.
“In Queen Elizabeth’s time,” Joseph’s soft voice came disembodied through the dark, “priest-hunters—”
“He’s going to find me,” Creath moaned. “He’s going to find me and make me marry him!”
“Hush,” Matthew soothed again.
Someone in the priest hole moved—and a shuffling sound followed by a crash indicated whoever it was had stumbled over some decorations and fell.
“Ouch!” If it were possible to whisper a shout, Joseph had accomplished that feat. “Holy Hades,” he hissed in evident pain. “Chrystabel, could you get the decorations off the floor and stack them all in a corner somewhere? Creath, you must calm yourself.”
“He’s going to find me!”
“There’s a tunnel hidden behind the bookcase.” Joseph sounded somewhat exasperated. “The bookcase itself is a door with a hidden latch. I’m not sure which way I’m facing now, but stand away from the walls and I’ll find it.”
Shuffling around in the dark in search of the trimmings she’d tossed down willy-nilly, Chrystabel bumped into the table. Now she knew where she was—at least generally. She decided to work her way around the room in a pattern, gathering the wreaths and garlands while avoiding the walls, as Joseph had asked.
“You never told me there was a tunnel from here.” Creath’s whisper sounded muffled, as though her face might be buried against Matthew’s chest. “We used to play in here all the time, and I never knew.”
“I suspect there are things you haven’t told me, either,” Joseph murmured a little sourly. “Ah, here it is.”
Chrystabel heard a click and then the loud screech of a creaky door swinging open. She froze—as did everyone else, if she could judge by the sudden, total silence.
No footsteps sounded in the room above them.
“Creath, where are you?” Joseph called after a moment.
“Here.” The single word was a terrified whisper.
“Come toward my voice. Now, listen. I’m going to get you out of here, but I don’t want to talk once we leave this room, because I fear any words may echo in the tunnel and find their way out the other end. So here’s what we’re going to do…are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
Chrystabel was listening, too—with her heart in her throat.
She heard Joseph draw a deep breath. “We won’t be able to stand up in the tunnel. We will have to crawl. I’ll lead the way and you’ll follow—stay close enough to touch me, all right? I want you to touch me every few moments, and if I don’t feel you I’ll slow down. We’ll come out in the well in the well house near the stables, where no one will be able to see us emerge. The well’s water level is below the tunnel exit, and there are metal rungs sunk into the well wall, like a ladder we can climb.”
“Won’t the priest-hunter look in the well house?” asked Creath.
“If he does, we’ll hear him coming and go back down the well and into the tunnel. I’m more worried about him finding you here. This way if he finds this priest hole, you won’t be here—all he’ll find is the Trevors with a bunch of Christmas decorations. Do you understand everything I’ve told you so far?”
“I do.”
“Very well. We’ll stay inside the well house and keep quiet until we feel it’s safe to make a run for the stables. I’ll take you to Bristol and marry you, and that will be that. We no longer have any time to waste.”
Chrystabel gasped as her heart plunged from her throat to her knees.
He was going to marry Creath.
Now she knew Creath’s answer and wished she didn’t.
“On Christmas Day?” Chrystabel’s heart had to be in her throat again, because she could barely force the words out. She clutched the trimmings she was holding so hard that pine needles poked into her. “You think you can wed on Christmas Day?”
“It’s officially not a holiday, remember?” Joseph sounded calm. Dead calm. Like maybe he was feeling dead inside. “All the shops are supposed to be open. All government officials have been ordered to mind their posts. Including Justices of the Peace. Yes, I think we can wed on Christmas Day.”
“But—” Chrystabel began and stopped.
“But what?” he whispered.
She didn’t know what to say. So she didn’t say anything. And then she realized she wasn’t saying anything because there was nothing she could say. Nothing she could say that would stop Joseph from wedding Creath.
He’d promised to marry Creath, and he wouldn’t go back on his word, because he was a man of honor.
And Chrystabel wouldn’t want him any other way.
His decency was one of the many reasons she loved him.
More needles were poking into her, and the chocolate she’d enjoyed earlier was threatening to come back up.
Joseph apparently gave up waiting for her to answer. Chrystabel heard a rustling noise.
“Creath, do you feel that?” Joseph’s voice still sounded dead. “It’s my surcoat—have you got it? I don’t want you freezing on the ride to Bristol. Put it on now. Once we make a run for the stables, we won’t have time to do anything but jump on two horses. We’ll need to be well gone before they realize what’s happened and try to follow us.”
“All right.” Creath sounded petrified, but she obeyed. Chrystabel heard more rustling as she donned the surcoat. “It’s too big on me.”
“It will keep you warm.”
“Won’t you be cold?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Joseph said. “Are you ready?”
“I suppose so.”
“Then let’s go. Grosmont, close the bookcase door very slowly behind us. Hopefully that will make less noise.”
“No,” came Matthew’s voice.
“What? You don’t think it will make less noise?”
“I don’t think you should go with her. I will go with her, and you can close
