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Guy had pled off church that morning with another of his headaches that had so conveniently plagued him during his stay at Peakholme House. “It’s the bright light, you see,” he’d explained, borrowing liberally from Amanda’s account of her own head troubles in high summer, and thankfully everyone had left him to it after he announced his intention for a time of quiet prayer. Corvin did not usually rise for breakfast, but there’d been no sign of John or Philip at the table either, and that had left Guy rather on edge. What had happened to making their escape? He didn’t seriously think they’d have left without him, not after… after everything. But his chest had tightened all the same, and he’d clenched his hands under the table, forcing himself to breathe.
Breathe, he told himself again, when the last of the household had departed, and there was still no sign of his unexpected allies. Three men can’t just disappear into thin air. Holt and Armstrong hadn’t seemed as if this was the slightest bit unusual or unexpected, and surely the two of them would have been the first to jump on unconventional behaviour with mocking words. At his vague question, Armstrong had said “Oh, I’m sure the Lord can handle his own company. It wouldn’t be like him to be lonely, would it?” and had smiled so nastily Guy had backed off.
He glanced through the drawing rooms and saw no one, so he made his way back upstairs to the hallway with the bedrooms, and realised with a sinking feeling that he had no idea which one was Philip’s. He knew which was Corvin’s door– he willed away the hot feeling in his stomach furiously– but the other two he wasn’t sure of. He could not just knock on the door of Lord Corvin, even if it was past ten, even if he had seen, well, rather more of Corvin than he had ever expected to. And John seemed like someone who valued his privacy, and after that had been so thoroughly violated by this blasted household already, Guy refused to trample on it any more. No, he wanted Philip, who was quick and kind to him, who would know what the hell was going on.
Shielded, he reminded himself. He’d been frozen in the hallway far too long now, and the back of his neck started to prickle with imaginary eyes. Would all the servants have gone to church? Wouldn’t someone have been left behind, to keep watch? Would they be watching him now?
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a noise upon the stairs behind him, and whirled round to see Philip and John. “You’re still here,” he said, his voice coming out something of a squeak despite himself. “Oh, you look a fright, what happened? Where were you?”
Neither man looked like they’d slept. Still in yesterday’s clothes, Philip more rumpled than Guy had ever seen him, dark bags under his eyes. John was visibly dusty, brushing cobwebs out of his dark hair and off his shoulders irritably.
“Corvin,” Philip said at once. “Have you seen Corvin?”
“I– what? Not since last night, no?”
“He didn’t bid us goodnight last night,” John said.
“Is that… unusual?” Guy asked, trying desperately to be tactful. Of course, the three of them were not sharing a room in this place, but he wasn’t entirely sure that they would have anyway, from what Philip had said. Not consistently, at least. When in need of comfort, perhaps, or– or some other form of comfort, and the image of Philip on his knees before Corvin in front of the mirror appeared in his mind. The way they’d moved like stepping through a dance they knew very, very well together. Corvin’s look of open, unashamed adoration, that he hadn’t bothered, or hadn’t felt the need, to hide from Guy. No, if Philip and John were worried, there clearly was something to worry about.
“Highly unusual,” John confirmed. “We haven’t seen him since parting after dinner.”
“In another house, we wouldn’t have taken any particular notice,” Philip said. “But when no one is otherwise occupied… It’s been his habit to drop in for a quiet word with each of us before bed since we were boys. So I went to his room, and no one was there. No one had even been there, it seems. No sign of his dinner clothes.”
“So Phil woke me,” John said. “We waited, then searched the house when everyone slept. We just finished searching the attics.” Well, that explained the cobwebs. “He isn’t– he isn’t here.” His steady voice broke, just the smallest bit, and Guy reached out for his arm on sheer animal instinct. John had kept him safe, that night, and kissed him, and now he was afraid and there was nothing Guy could do about it.
“What about his walking clothes?” he offered, as implausible an image as Corvin setting off for a tramp immediately after dinner and staying out all night was. Unless he fell, and was lying injured somewhere in the grounds of Peakholme? “His shoes? Were they still here?”
“Yes,” Philip said wretchedly. “We checked. Besides, if there’s one thing he hates more than stumbling around the countryside at all then it would be doing it alone. Corvin despises being alone. We’d– I must admit, we thought he might have spirited you off somewhere, at first. But here you are.”
“Oh,” Guy said. His fingers felt stiff and numb on John’s arm. “Would he… have done that?”
“If you’d asked, I expect, then yes,” John said. “But he didn’t. We’re right back where we started. He can’t have disappeared into thin air.”
Thin air. Guy dropped his grip on John’s arm to wrap his arms around himself. “Oh, God, no,” he said. “Armstrong– he said to me, at breakfast, that it wouldn’t be like Lord Corvin to be lonely. I thought he was talking about, the other night, a jab to make me uncomfortable and wonder what he knows, but what if–” He couldn’t make himself shape the words.
“What if?” Philip said urgently. His eyes were intent on Guy’s face.
“The cave,” Guy whispered. “That awful cave, miles from anywhere.”
Philip grabbed Guy’s arm, and hauled them both after John, who was already running.
–
“Quick,” Guy wheezed, stumbling over the gravel drive, attempting to keep up with Philip’s longer stride. “We have to be quick, if we’re not back when the household returns…”
“Damn the bloody household to hell,” Philip said, “If they’ve hurt Corvin–”
“Then they’d hurt the rest of us, too,” Guy insisted. “We’re no good to him if we end up shot ourselves.”
“I don’t care,” Philip said wildly, “He was the first person who ever loved us, John or I. He’s all we have.”
Guy silently promised Corvin that he’d keep Philip safe, and John too, if it was within his power, if only Corvin wouldn’t be lying murdered in a cave somewhere and break Philip’s heart. A bargain with the universe, if the universe would hear him. “No,” he said, “Not all. Not all, Philip, you have me.”
Philip stopped mid-step, and looked at him with huge, wounded eyes. Guy grabbed his arm and pulled him onwards.
“We’re going to find him,” he said, a promise he hoped against hope he could keep.
–
All three men were gasping for breath by the time they made it to the mouth of the cave. The mid-morning light was milky gold through the light clouds above, making the cave entrance seem even darker, a wound in the swelling grass of the hillside.
“Damn it, we should have brought a torch,” John said, but none of them hesitated or suggested going back. Guy shuddered as the damp cold enfolded them. Their footsteps crunched through limestone detritus, and he tried not to think of bones.
“Corvin!” Philip shouted, setting echoes to dancing around them. John followed suit, the two of them separating down different side passages, and Guy stood very still in the centre of the cave. He closed his eyes– vision was never going to be much help here anyway– and listened.
He knew this sensation from playing hiding games with Amanda when they were children. When one had stopped making the everyday noises of movement and breath, the animal instincts could flicker back to life from some long forgotten part of the mind, and the little noises of another living being would become apparent. Please let there be a living being left to find, he thought, and listened, straining to hear below the echoes of John and Philip.
That was when he heard the barely audible, barely expressed sob and whirled around. “This way!” he called, then added “Lord Corvin, it’s us, Guy Frisby, and your John and Philip too, where are you? Tell us where you are!” He took off running towards the sound.
After a short, narrow stretch, the cave opened up again, and he stumbled to a halt in the arched entrance the passage created. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the increased dimness further into the cave system, and then a further heartbeat for his mind to understand what his eyes were showing him.
Tied between two dangling stalactites of rock against the wall was Lord Corvin. He was pinned like a butterfly on display, arms outstretched and fastened around the wrists, his head lolling. He was soaked to the skin, reddish hair falling over his face, but as Guy crossed the room towards him he could see his face was bloody, his lip split.
“Corvin,” Guy said, almost under his breath. He crossed the room in an instant, and then hesitated, unsure if he dared to touch him, in case he hurt him further somehow. He leaned in close, listening for breathing, but he couldn't hear over the sound of his own blood thundering. Gently he put his fingers to the soft skin of Corvin’s throat, but where is one even supposed to feel the pulse on another man? He cursed himself for not allowing Amanda’s doctor beau to instruct him on such things. Guy had never seen Lord Corvin so still before. So quiet.
Then, Corvin gasped again, the same horrible, indrawn sob Guy had heard before, and he wrenched his hand back. He’s alive. Corvin’s gaze seemed to focus a little, and he said in a wretched whisper through cracked lips, “Please don’t be a dream.”
“No,” Guy said. “No, not a dream, I’m– we’re going to– Philip!”
“Here,” Philip said, ducking through the low entranceway, John on his heels. “Oh, God–”
“He’s alive,” Guy said urgently. “Help me, how do we get him down?”
Philip seemed frozen in horror, but John stepped past him, going to Corvin’s left side. “The ropes, where they’re attached to the rock, start there.”
Guy went to take the other side, but Corvin made a low noise of– of fear, Guy realised, at Guy stepping out of his sightline, and he hadn’t known Corvin was capable of such a sound.
“No, stay with him,” John instructed, “Phil–”
Philip was already moving to take Corvin’s other wrist, following the damp rope back to the rock.
“Heavens, you’re soaked through,” Guy said to Corvin, just to have something to say in the most calming tone he could summon. He was, and shivering hard now he’d regained something of consciousness. “The others will get you out of here, that’s it, just hold on a moment now.”
Corvin gave a miserable laugh, low in his throat. “Oh, this is going to be– be the worst one yet. To wake up from.”
“You’re not dreaming, I promise.”
But Corvin didn’t seem to have heard him. He sounded detached, even as he was trembling hard enough his voice was shaking. “You know,” he said, tone distant, conversational, “Once I’d worked my way through the more likely names, I cried out for my mother. Isn’t that strange? I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t think I’ve ever asked for her before. Knew there was no point, as a child. And if she never came to me in life, she could hardly be expected to in death, could she? But still. I called and no one came. No one came, you know.”
“Hush, darling,” Philip said, voice thick, not looking up from his work on the knots. “Hush, now, beloved. We’re here now.”
John didn’t seem to be inclined towards endearments in the same way Corvin and Philip clearly were, but he didn’t have to be. “V,” was what he said, that simple childhood nickname, and all he needed to say. The depth of care in the single syllable left Guy feeling flushed, despite the cold of the underground.
The ropes on John’s side pulled free, and Corvin sagged into Guy’s arms. Guy planted his feet more firmly on the slippery limestone and held on. It should be John or Philip holding him like this, he thought, but they’d trusted Corvin to him, and he was going to do right by that trust. One arm under Corvin’s arm and around his back to keep him up and close to Guy’s warmth, he used the other to take Corvin’s freed hand and press it to his chest. He was icy cold, like a dead man standing, and it took Guy a few moments to realise that his shivering had turned to sobbing.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, as Philip tugged Corvin’s other wrist free with a frustrated noise. “We’ve got you now.”
–
Guy would never clearly remember how they managed to get Lord Corvin out of that hellhole of a cave and back towards the estate proper. Together they’d stumbled, carried, tripped, and stumbled onward again until they had Corvin back in the sunshine of the morning. They didn’t have dry clothes, but Philip had draped his much maligned dinner jacket from the previous evening around Corvin’s shoulders, and he clung to it like it was something precious.
“Plan of attack?” Philip said, looking at John over Corvin’s head.
“Not the house,” John said, to Philip and Guy’s hearty agreement.
“Somewhere warm and dry,” Guy said, “Or he’s going to catch his–” He stumbled over the word death, but neither of the men seemed to notice. Corvin seemed only half conscious at most, and the lack of his input into the conversation was an uncanny absence.
“Defensible,” John said. “We need somewhere defensible. Next time we’re bringing bloody guns of our own, no matter what Corvin says. What about that absurd folly?”
“It might be our best bet,” Philip said, and Guy agreed, all the while trying not to think of rats in traps.
–
It seemed a miracle that they didn’t encounter anyone, but they didn’t, making it through the heavy wooden door of the folly and barring it behind them. Then they had to manoeuvre Corvin up the winding staircase, but they managed between the three of them. Guy had never been more glad that he was not a gentleman as he hefted Corvin around the final corner with John’s assistance, just as he and Amanda would carry a particularly unwieldy laundry basket between them. Comparing Corvin to washing was so ridiculous he almost wanted to laugh, and the impulse stuck in his throat and became something far closer to a sob. It was relieving beyond belief when they’d finally settled Corvin in the corner of the little room, and Guy could sink down next to him, back to the wall.
They’d padded the floor with the rough picnic blankets John had found in the corner, and propped Corvin against the wall. Philip knelt in front of him, checking him for injuries. Apart from the split lip, badly bruised wrists, the cold and whatever a night of being bound alone in a cave would do to a man, he seemed unhurt. Corvin didn’t react as Philip inspected him, until Philip took his wrists carefully to check for damage, and then he flinched away, eyes jerking open.
Guy realised what was about to happen before anyone else had the chance to react, and clapped his hand over Corvin’s mouth to stop him from screaming. “Sorry, sorry!” he said, “It’s alright, just don’t shout, don’t shout and we’ll be alright.”
He withdrew his hand cautiously, and Corvin took an unsteady breath, but didn’t shout. He flexed his fingers like he couldn’t decide if he was going to grab Guy’s hand or not. “Where are we?” he asked.
“The folly,” Philip said. “The door’s locked.”
“And no mirrors,” John said darkly, which made a smile flicker in Corvin’s eyes. “What happened?”
Corvin outlined the story of getting snatched on his way back to his room after dinner. “I assume they invited me for the scandal, and having got what they wanted–” He glanced at Philip, still knelt in front of him, and Guy had never been so happy to see someone approach a flirtation before in his life, “– they decided to dispose of me. I didn’t think… I thought I was going to die down there.”
“Never,” Philip swore, taking Corvin’s hand in his. Guy was put in mind of a knight before his king, and almost had to avert his eyes. “Together or not at all, you know that.”
“Yes, well,” Corvin said. “A few hours in the dark and the silence like that is enough to put anything out of one’s mind.” He shuddered, and Guy felt a sudden protective urge so strong it almost took his breath away, which he’d only just managed to get back. Ridiculous, he told himself, and yet.
Philip said “We need to get you out of those wet clothes,” and drew his hand away from Corvin’s, only for Corvin to make a half stifled noise.
“Are you hurt?” John asked immediately, but Corvin shook his head.
Unevenly, he said “Please, just– don’t let me go. Hold me.”
They rearranged. Since Philip’s dinner jacket was thoroughly dampened by Corvin’s dripping hair, John tugged off his own and proffered it to Corvin, who had Philip helping him struggle out of the rest of his wet clothes. “There may be a spider or two in the pockets,” he said, which made Philip grin.
“You should have seen him rooting through cobwebs that were probably old enough to be sent off to school,” he said. “Just in case you were lurking behind them. It was only because of Guy we found you.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m quite sure you’d have thought of the cave eventually,” Guy said softly. He was sat a little uncertainly on the floor, just outside of the little bubble John and Philip had created with their fussing over Corvin.
“Eventually would have been a great deal too slow,” Philip said. “It’s because of you we’re here now–”
“Please don’t thank me. I wouldn’t wish that cave on my worst enemy,” he said. Corvin laughed, and Guy didn’t let his eyes follow the sound, because he was sure by now Corvin would be only wearing John’s jacket and blanket. “Obviously– obviously you’re not my worst enemy, Corvin.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Corvin said. “John, let me sit in your lap?”
John made a sound that Guy presumed was agreement. Philip settled himself on John and Corvin’s other side, and when Guy tentatively looked in his direction, he was already looking at him.
“Stay with me?” Philip said, holding his arm out, and Guy thought yes in answer to the question that wasn’t precisely what Philip had asked, and then repeated the word outloud, and before he knew it he was sat between Philip’s legs, Guy’s back resting against his chest. John and Philip were pressed close, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the wall, and Corvin was sat sideways in John’s lap, his back against the wall forming the corner.
John held Corvin close, and Guy saw the tension go out of him, finally, finally. “I really thought I was going to die,” he said, and John ducked his head to kiss him.
After this, they’d said. Guy held the words warm in his chest, squeezed Corvin’s ankle where it lay across his lap, and turned to kiss Philip. Well, that was just plenty of motivation to get out of this alive.