ran in her veins.
Tory loved England as much as any man. The thought of invasion, of rape and burning and slaughter, horrified her. Could she learn how to help defend her country without losing her family?
She intended to find out.
CHAPTER 11
… bong, bong, bong. Tory counted as the chapel clock struck the hour. Midnight, and Cynthia Stanton slept with slow, regular breaths that weren’t quite snores.
Cautiously, Tory slipped from her bed, fully dressed except for her shoes. After arranging the blankets in a long roll under the coverlet, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, picked up her shoes, and tiptoed from the room.
In the week since her evaluation, life had settled into a regular routine of chapel, meals, classes, and studying. She was now an accepted member of Nell Bracken’s group, and her relationship with Lady Cynthia was easier, largely because Cynthia refused to speak to her. Tory had found that giving her roommate a cheerful smile infuriated the other girl, and it was wickedly satisfying.
Though most of her attention was given to school and her new friends, she couldn’t stop thinking of what Jack Rainford had said. Tunnels beneath the abbey. Surprising things might be happening down there.
Tory’s casual questions about possible medieval tunnels had received only blank stares from the other girls. Maybe interesting things happened only on the boys’ side, with no access for the girls. But that didn’t mean Tory couldn’t look.
Elspeth Campbell was the most likely to know about abbey mysteries, but the other girl was maddeningly elusive. Tory saw her between classes or across the refectory, but Elspeth always slipped away before Tory could intercept her.
So Tory had started quietly exploring on her own. She guessed that the entrance to any tunnels would be from the cellar of an abbey building. Most of those cellars were locked away from students, so Tory couldn’t investigate them.
She’d explored those cellars that she could enter. Under the refectory were sacks and bins of food, including far too many turnips stored for winter, but nothing that looked like an entrance to a tunnel.
There was also a dank, unpleasant cellar below the classroom building. She found trash and spiderwebs, but there were no signs of regular traffic except by small creatures she preferred not to think about.
Her searching was easier because Miss Wheaton hadn’t reinstated Tory’s suppression spell when they returned to the abbey after the evaluation. Tory wasn’t sure if that was by accident or design, but she was grateful not to feel as smothered as she had her first day at the school.
She practiced her intuition whenever she had the chance. Though it hadn’t led her to any hidden tunnels yet, she did have clearer feelings about what was likely or not. Now her intuition was suggesting that a tunnel entrance might be concealed in one of the crumbling old abbey outbuildings.
There was no one stirring as she made her way along the dark corridor and down the stairs. The day had been gray and rainy. Though the skies had cleared and a waxing moon illuminated the abbey grounds, the grass was wet and the air bitingly cold. Tory pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Winter wasn’t far away.
She made her way to the edge of the gardens that led toward the sea. The pastureland contained scattered outbuildings and crumbled ruins that might have been chicken coops or granaries in the old days.
She let her mind drift. Which one…?
There. That rocky ruin just beyond the kitchen garden. Her shoes were saturated by the time she reached it. The original building had been no larger than a bedroom, and loose stones had fallen into piles at the base of the irregular walls. The site didn’t seem very promising, but her intuition said to look closer.
She squinted at the ruins, glad for the moonlight. Hmm. Grass was flattened into an almost invisible path that led to the highest surviving wall. She shoved
Tory loved England as much as any man. The thought of invasion, of rape and burning and slaughter, horrified her. Could she learn how to help defend her country without losing her family?
She intended to find out.
CHAPTER 11
… bong, bong, bong. Tory counted as the chapel clock struck the hour. Midnight, and Cynthia Stanton slept with slow, regular breaths that weren’t quite snores.
Cautiously, Tory slipped from her bed, fully dressed except for her shoes. After arranging the blankets in a long roll under the coverlet, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, picked up her shoes, and tiptoed from the room.
In the week since her evaluation, life had settled into a regular routine of chapel, meals, classes, and studying. She was now an accepted member of Nell Bracken’s group, and her relationship with Lady Cynthia was easier, largely because Cynthia refused to speak to her. Tory had found that giving her roommate a cheerful smile infuriated the other girl, and it was wickedly satisfying.
Though most of her attention was given to school and her new friends, she couldn’t stop thinking of what Jack Rainford had said. Tunnels beneath the abbey. Surprising things might be happening down there.
Tory’s casual questions about possible medieval tunnels had received only blank stares from the other girls. Maybe interesting things happened only on the boys’ side, with no access for the girls. But that didn’t mean Tory couldn’t look.
Elspeth Campbell was the most likely to know about abbey mysteries, but the other girl was maddeningly elusive. Tory saw her between classes or across the refectory, but Elspeth always slipped away before Tory could intercept her.
So Tory had started quietly exploring on her own. She guessed that the entrance to any tunnels would be from the cellar of an abbey building. Most of those cellars were locked away from students, so Tory couldn’t investigate them.
She’d explored those cellars that she could enter. Under the refectory were sacks and bins of food, including far too many turnips stored for winter, but nothing that looked like an entrance to a tunnel.
There was also a dank, unpleasant cellar below the classroom building. She found trash and spiderwebs, but there were no signs of regular traffic except by small creatures she preferred not to think about.
Her searching was easier because Miss Wheaton hadn’t reinstated Tory’s suppression spell when they returned to the abbey after the evaluation. Tory wasn’t sure if that was by accident or design, but she was grateful not to feel as smothered as she had her first day at the school.
She practiced her intuition whenever she had the chance. Though it hadn’t led her to any hidden tunnels yet, she did have clearer feelings about what was likely or not. Now her intuition was suggesting that a tunnel entrance might be concealed in one of the crumbling old abbey outbuildings.
There was no one stirring as she made her way along the dark corridor and down the stairs. The day had been gray and rainy. Though the skies had cleared and a waxing moon illuminated the abbey grounds, the grass was wet and the air bitingly cold. Tory pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Winter wasn’t far away.
She made her way to the edge of the gardens that led toward the sea. The pastureland contained scattered outbuildings and crumbled ruins that might have been chicken coops or granaries in the old days.
She let her mind drift. Which one…?
There. That rocky ruin just beyond the kitchen garden. Her shoes were saturated by the time she reached it. The original building had been no larger than a bedroom, and loose stones had fallen into piles at the base of the irregular walls. The site didn’t seem very promising, but her intuition said to look closer.
She squinted at the ruins, glad for the moonlight. Hmm. Grass was flattened into an almost invisible path that led to the highest surviving wall. She shoved
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