Chapter 5 - THE VOICE THROUGH THE FLOOR
Ten minutes later, the courtyard of Ashford House was filled with the sound of shouting men and running boots.
Vane and three security guards came through the heavy oak doors of the chapel wing, carrying heavy iron pry-bars and hydraulic jacks from the estate garage.
Evelyn led them into the vestry.
She didn't ask Margaret Ashford for permission. She didn't look at the three captains who were standing in the aisle of the chapel, their faces dark with suspicion and anger.
She pointed her finger toward the small wooden panel behind the altar screen.
"There," she said to the lead guard. "The manual override is behind the red cedar panel. Cut the secondary copper line first so you don't short the door circuit, then lift the iron catch."
The guards didn't hesitate. Under Evelyn's calm, precise instructions, they worked with rapid efficiency.
With a loud, tearing sound of screeching iron, the stone hatch set into the chapel floor was pried open.
A cloud of cold, wet vapor rose from the dark opening, carrying the smell of stagnant water and old iron.
Two guards dropped down into the opening with heavy flashlights.
Thirty seconds later, a low cheer came up from the dark.
"He's here! He's breathing! Get the cables down!"
Evelyn stood by the altar rail, her hands resting on the cold marble, her grey wool sweater soaked with rain, her hair clinging to her face.
They brought Gabriel Ashford up through the floor.
He was dripping wet, his suit ruined, his hands covered in dark grease and blood where he had tried to force the iron bolts from below. His skin was gray, his lips blue from the cold water that had reached his chest before the valve was shut.
He sat on the bottom step of the altar rail, a heavy wool blanket thrown over his shoulders by one of his men.
Margaret Ashford walked slowly down the central aisle of the chapel, her silk dress rustling against the pews. Her face was entirely motionless, her eyes fixed on her nephew.
"Gabriel," she said softly, her voice carrying no relief, no anger, only a cold, calculating assessment. "We were afraid... you had been taken by the Delaney family."
Gabriel slowly raised his head.
He didn't look at his aunt. He didn't look at the three captains who were standing near the door, already backed away from Margaret as if she carried a contagious disease.
He looked across the chapel floor, past the guards, past the heavy iron tools, until his eyes rested on Evelyn.
He took a long, shaking breath, his chest rising beneath the damp wool blanket.
"The Delaney family... doesn't know how the bells in this house work," Gabriel said, his voice hoarse, scraping, but loud enough to echo in the vaulted stone roof of the chapel.
He reached into his coat pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a small piece of metal.
It was a second brass tag, stamped with the number 17.
He held it out toward his aunt.
"Walter Pike is in the well house," Gabriel said softly. "His leg is broken. I think... you should go down there and help him pack his things, Aunt Margaret. Before the police arrive to investigate an illegal modification to the estate’s water infrastructure."
Margaret Ashford didn't say a word.
She looked at the brass tag in Gabriel’s hand. Then she turned her eyes toward Evelyn Carter.
For three seconds, the two women looked at each other across the dark granite floor of the chapel.
Margaret saw a maid in a grease-stained apron holding a wet iron wrench.
Evelyn saw an old woman whose house had just fallen down around her ears because she hadn't understood how the foundation was held together.
Margaret slowly turned on her heel and walked out of the chapel through the heavy main doors, her footsteps fading into the rain outside.
The three captains hesitated for a second, then bowed their heads slightly toward Gabriel and followed her out, leaving the new head of the Ashford family sitting alone on the altar steps with his guards.
Gabriel looked up at Evelyn.
"Mrs. Carter," he rasped, a faint, tired trace of a smile touching the corner of his pale mouth.
"Yes, Mr. Ashford?"
"Did you... finish fixing the catch on the basement stairs?"
"Not yet, sir," Evelyn said, setting her heavy steel wrench on the altar rail with a clean, solid clack. "I was delayed by an unmanifested delivery."
Gabriel let out a short, quiet laugh that turned into a cough, then shook his head under his blanket.
"Have the driver take those black candles back to the depot, Evelyn," he said softly. "And tell the kitchen... to buy whatever kind of beeswax your daughter likes for the autumn schedule."
"Yes, Mr. Ashford," Evelyn said.
May you like
She turned around, adjusted the sleeves of her sweater, and walked down the side aisle toward the service entrance, her shoes making a steady, rhythmic sound against the ancient stone floor.
Down in the laundry hallway, three floors below, the small brass bell on line seventeen gave one last, tiny, vibration—a soft ping as the tension in the copper wire finally relaxed into total silence.
