A Lark's Conceit: A Verity Lark Mystery (Verity Lark Mysteries Book 3) by Lynn Messina

Author:Lynn Messina [Messina, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Potatoworks Press
Published: 2024-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Saturday, June 13

11:56 a.m.

When Verity observed that the cellar beneath the Speckled Pig was not entirely inhospitable, she was not trying to provoke Hardwicke. The ceiling was higher than she had expected based on the proportions of the building, allowing her to stand upright and not feel as though the wooden beams were slowly descending to crush her, a sensation she knew from her own basement in Bethel Street. The clay floor had only sporadic puddles of stagnant water, which she could easily scoot around as she crossed from one end of the room to the other in pursuit of exercise during an extended incarceration. The activity would also provide necessary heat, for the air was damp and chilly. Even so, it was not stale. Smelling the currents, she could tell that it got a fair amount of ventilation.

Additionally, there were mouse droppings.

A daunting amount, in fact, which was a peculiar thing to find consolatory, but she knew it meant the rat problem had been addressed since Hardwicke’s stay. There would not be so much evidence of the pesky little rodent if the larger predator were still in residence.

All in all, she could imagine passing several unremarkable hours in its confines, sitting on the casks of wine between bouts of calisthenics and conceiving all the ways she could torment her captors once she was free.

Verity made remarks to this effect as she rapped her knuckles against the wall at regular intervals in an effort to find the aforementioned priest hole. She had started with the wall immediately to the left of the door and then proceeded to the one opposite. “It is always best to have a seating option other than the floor, as the floor is where the dampest, coldest air can be found. The higher you are, the warmer and dryer you will be. On a related note, I would not mind if the cellar had a window to admit daylight and improve the ventilation, but our three candles provide almost enough illumination to see into the corners of the room. A fourth candle would be better and a fifth ideal.”

Unable to detect a hollow area behind the plaster, she took a thoughtful step back and swept her eyes around the room. If the priest hole was not in the wall, then it must be beneath the floor. And yet that seemed unlikely, as clay could not be segmented in the way a wood planks could. The break in the floor would be obvious, unless it was hidden beneath one of the casks of wine.

To confirm this supposition, she turned to Hardwicke and met his furious gaze.

Despite the glower of rage, his tone was effortlessly bland as he begged her to kindly stop assessing the cellar as if it were a bedchamber assigned to her at a house party in the Peak District.

Verity laughed, highly amused by the notion of being asked to any rustic sojourn, let alone one at an old family estate in the country.

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