Winning Lady Jane

by Isabella Thorne

  “Repeat to them what you told me.” Ted looked at her sternly and spoke so sharply that Keegain glanced at him in surprise.

  “Please don’t be angry with me,” she said to Reynolds with a measure of softness that Lord Keegain had forgotten she had.

  “What is it Margret?” The earl demanded and the girl quailed; even more so when she saw the look on his face, but she complied.

  “That… that common girl, Jane.” She swallowed and rushed on, “She left. At least I assume it was her, she was still wearing the peacock feathers. Where she got such an outfit…”

  “Left?” Keegain was incredulous. In this weather? No one in their right mind would leave with the storm at its height. In fact, there was not a single guest who was not staying the night at this point. He had ordered every horse to be taken from the carriages, and brought into the stables and bedded down where they too could be warm and dry. “What do you mean left?”

  “She… she had riding cloak thrown over her and… and a man was with her. I did not know him, but I assumed he was a guest. He was in costume. A pirate. She may have been….struggling. I thought perhaps it was a lark.”

  “Struggling?” The earl’s voice was a low growl. He did not have time for Margret. Her information was slow in coming and right now, time was all that mattered. He reached for her before he even realized he was about to do so. He grasped her shoulder and turned her to him. “Margret, what did you see?” He snapped.

  “Easy, Keegain,” Reynolds reached for Keegain to disengage his grasp. Keegain allowed it, but might not have if Margret had not answered.

  “I do not know! Three men, all in masks. I mean, we all are, aren’t we? But these were plain. Black masks. I had not expected to see anything so plain here, and so I noticed. I mean… I did not realize…how could I have? It seemed so odd for them to be taking her.” She glanced at the men, looking from one face to another, her own face pale beneath her mask which she touched with trembling fingertips as though hiding behind it would protect her somehow. “Why do you look at me that way? I could not possibly know any more than that. I swear to it.”

  “How long ago?” Keegain was loud now, his voice carrying above the music in the other room. He was drawing attention from the guests in the ballroom. He saw several heads turn in his direction, but he was long past caring for civility. Margret seemed to wither under his glare.

  “Keegain,” Reynolds said with an irritating calm. He laid a hand on Keegain’s shoulder and addressed Margret. “When was this? I pray you think carefully. It is important.”

  “About… ten minutes? No more than a quarter hour.” Reynolds put an arm around Lady Margret, drawing her away even as her hands came up to cover her mouth and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Good,” Reynolds said. “That is good. Thank you for telling us, Lady Margret.”

  She was crying, Keegain realized, and he did not care. Not now. Not after all her cruelties. She had seen Jane struggling and done nothing. In fact, she had waited to tell anyone. His heart grew cold within his breast and if he had not already been debating the matter of their engagement, this would have ended it. He could never marry anyone who could act so callously. Then the realization hit him.

  “A quarter hour is too long. They have a good head start on us.” Lord Keegain began to turn, to initiate a pursuit regardless, but it occurred to him that he had no idea where to start. He spun back to Margret to ask. “Which way?”

  “There.” She pointed an accusing finger down a hallway that lead beneath the stairs.

  Keegain turned to Reynolds. “That way leads to an external door and is close to the stables. If they had a carriage ready, they could be far from here.”

  “Didn’t you have all the carriages unhitched and the horses bedded?” Fitz asked.

  “Yes. Yes,” Keegain said gaining some measure of hope.

  “It is good that you ordered the stable lads to unhitch all the horses and to take them out of the storm. Maybe that delayed them.”

  “Still, they will take a carriage,” Reynolds said. “They could not keep a woman captive on horseback, and why should they. They have no notion that they will be followed so soon.”

  “We can catch them on horseback. Gather your men and follow,” Keegain ordered. “I will take some men from the stables and initiate pursuit. Come Fitz!”

  “What shall I do?” Margret looked between them.

  He turned on his heel, spitting one last comment over his shoulder at her. “You, madam, have already contributed much more than your fair share to this evening.”

  “I am sorry,” she said.

  “Are you?” Keegain spat. “Or are you just glad that she is gone?”

  Margret seemed to whither under his gaze.

  Keegain could barely look at her. He had never wanted to strike a woman, but longed to take his rage out on something. The villains were the proper outlet, he reminded himself. He would deal with Margret later. Right now, she did not matter. Only Jane mattered.

  “I say, Keegain.” Reynolds stepped between the two of them Keegain felt shame for his words, but he could not apologize. He would not. If Jane came to harm, he would never forgive her.

  “Let’s go,” he said to Fitz. He left Margret standing shoulder to shoulder with Reynolds.

  “We will follow as soon as we can,” Reynolds said. “I must inform the Duke of Ely lest there be other brigands still in the house.”

  Keegain gave a short nod and spun, racing for the exit, ignoring a gasp from the small crowd who had gathered near the door and now knew something was afoot. Fitzwilliam called for their coats as he followed in his friend’s wake.

  Reynolds whispered a word to Lady Margret gathered herself and smiled at the nervous crowd. “Come,” she said. “Christmas carols are to be sung. Lady Amelia promised to play a duet with me.”

  Reynolds slipped through the crowd.

  The doors between Keegain and the stable were mere annoyances to be gotten through; each twisted open and slammed. The ice left little in the way of tracks. The world was glittering glass. At any other time it would have been beautiful. Now it was treacherous.

  “Had we best allow Reynold’s men time to join us?” Fitzwilliam shouted over the wind as they ran toward the stable.

  Keegain was bent near double as he wrenched open the stable doors. The wind was howling across the mews. “I know this area, these roads. They do not. We will make twice the time they will. Reynolds can be there for the arrest, but I will not lose Jane.”

  Lord Keegain burst into the carriage house. “Everyone on your feet!” The earl shouted as the stablemen jumped at his intrusion. Cards scattered on the floor as the men abandoned their game. Startled exclamations followed him as Lord Keegain snagged a bridle from a nearby hook.

  “My lord…” A grizzled man stepped forward. “What has happened?”

  “Griswold. Saddle horses for me and Fitzwilliam and every man here who can ride or fight. Take along whatever you find to hand for a weapon. There are traitors afoot in the dark, and they have abducted Miss Bellevue. They will not defile my name or my house! We ride now and damn the men in our sights!”

  The four men scrambled, shouting furious agreement with him, as they grabbed saddle blankets and tack and attempted to calm the beasts who borrowed Keegain’s anxiety. They only had to quiet the animals long enough to get them outfitted.

  Keegain’s stallion was led to him first, followed by Fitz’s nervous mount. They lead them out into the crisp feel of hard sleet propelled by the wind into a biting squall. They mounted, each horse catching the excitement of the men and dancing in circles in their eagerness to run.

  The footing was precarious with the ice against the cobblestones. Keegain felt his mounts unsteady footing and knew this pursuit for the folly that it was. If they did not break a leg, or worse, a neck, in this wild chase it would be a miracle.

  “Keep your mounts to the sides of the road and off the cobbles where the ice will be less treacherous,�
� he shouted as he mounted up. “Follow at pace.” At least he hoped rutted road would be less slippery than cobbles.

  When the stable hands came out and mounted, Keegain looked to every man there and smiled. His people answered him, not from fear or some archaic notion of the noble class ruling the commons. Not even because he paid them. The looks on their faces were fierce and determined. His people genuinely respected him and they would ride with him. Just then, his heart was full of admiration for these men.

  “We look for a carriage with three men in black and damsel to be fought and won. Come and let us teach these villains the name of Keegain is one that is respected and feared.”

  He spun his stallion and kicked the animal calling out “HAH!” The horse felt the eagerness of his rider and stretched, gathering powerful muscles under it and springing in to a gallop; dashing into the night.

  Fitzwilliam and the men followed like the very hounds of hell were after them.

  Lord Keegain urged his mount onwards.

  Danger meant nothing. Jane’s life was in the balance. He pitied any who chose to stand in his way.

  33

  Jane fought. She never ceased her struggle. She had struggled as they’d dragged her from the room and into the entryway. She had tried to scream there, but her cries were muffled, stopped by the cloak and heavy hands that dared to touch her person. She bit at her assailant’s fingers as he put his hand over her mouth, but his thick gloves protected him. She kicked at him as they walked her out of the house and into the cold. She had twisted and tried to lash out at them as they thrust her into the carriage. In short, she did everything she could to not be taken, and it was still not enough.

  Finally, they threw her in the conveyance, her head striking the edge of the carriage, leaving her dazed, lying on the floor. She felt the carriage shift and rock as they climbed in after her. Two of them. The other would ride with the driver she supposed. Or for all she knew, he would return to the house, a devil in disguise, there to express shock and dismay when it turned up that one of the guests was missing. Why were they doing this?

  Jane struggled to sit up and they seemed only too glad to help her until she realized they used the opportunity to bind her hands in front of her. She shook with the cold, feeling the frigid tears upon her cheeks and she tried to stammer something coherent, but could not for she had also come to realize something else. They were on the road, traveling swiftly down the long drive through the storm, through the ice that by now surely lay treacherous in the deep ruts of the road.

  Her mother. Her mother had died traveling a road like this, going to the side of a dear friend who was experiencing difficulty lying in, who had begged her to come, to be with her through the birth of her first child. Her own mother had died. So too, had the woman she had been set to visit. Some said it was the guilt which had killed her, leaving her babe born, but motherless within hours of its birth, just as Jane and her sister had likewise been left motherless. But now, the icy road was her least worry. The villains at her side were the more pressing danger.

  “Please. Please I do not understand what is going on,” she said, speaking through chattering teeth.

  The men only looked at one another and laughed. “Cover her,” one said gruffly to the pirate. The one with whom she had danced. “If she freezes to death she will not be worth so much as a farthing to us.”

  The pirate nodded, bending to drape the heavy cloak about Jane’s shoulders.

  A farthing? Was she to be ransomed then? She had heard of such things, but her father certainly never had the means for it. Not to the extent that any other lady at the ball had. Her mask…her mask was long since gone. Surely they knew by now who she was, and what she was worth. She opened her mouth to tell them. They would have to let her go. She was not worth the bother. She had never seen their faces after all.

  But then two thoughts came to her. The first being, that they would likely not believe her anyway. The second, that they would as likely kill her as let her go. She would offer nothing. What would her word matter to men such as this? Jane drew back against the seat, huddling into the warmth of the cloak, raising her bound hands to try and adjust the fabric to keep out the chill.

  Besides, they would just kidnap another. Would you let them treat another in such a way? Lady Charlotte? Oh how Keegain would suffer if his sister were lost, but would anyone else’s sister be a better choice? What if it were Lady Amelia or Lady Patience? Should any lady be made to suffer like this?

  No, Jane could not bear the thought.

  She had to think. To find some solution, but she flinched at every jolt of the carriage. Already she thought she might be ill. To be trapped thus was frightening, but to be forced to travel in this weather at such a breakneck speed was her nightmare. The carriage slid going around a corner. Jane held her breath, and wondered if it might be her last. What had been her mother’s thoughts that fateful night when she had been taken so cruelly from her daughters?

  No. Stop it. You must think. You must find a way through this.

  She had to breathe. Jane took one careful breath and then another. The men were not even watching her. They sat bent with heads together conspiring no doubt, their blades at their sides. The blades should have alerted her. No gentleman would wear a sword to a social gathering, even if it went with his costume.

  Such a display was considered in poor taste. Even for a masked ball it would have been deemed too much. Why had she not noticed when she danced with the pirate? Why had she not said something to someone then?

  She moaned as the carriage slipped again. How could she possibly think, when the carriage could overturn at any minute, and she would be dashed to her death? There was truly no help for it. They would take her somewhere…she had no idea where…and send a demand for ransom. When none came they would kill her, and take someone else.

  Their skill now spoke of experience. Jane realized they had done this on previous occasions. There would never be an end to it, ladies with reputations ruined, lives destroyed for the sake of a few pounds. It was infuriating and wrong and needed to be stopped. Yet what could she do?

  The horses squealed. For a moment the carriage felt precarious, like it would topple. Jane shuddered. Even the men in the carriage gasped, grasping at the seat for balance. With her hands bound Jane had no means to do likewise. As the carriage slid on two wheels for a moment and then crashed back to the ground, she fell, slamming hard against the side of the carriage and gasping in terror and outrage. “We will all die for this!” She shrieked.

  “My dear lady, when a cause is just there is no fear of death. If Napoleon desires it, then so it shall be!”

  “Vive l’Empereur!” They both shouted.

  They were fanatics; the same sort who beheaded the nobility in France. Jane saw it now in the whites of their eyes behind the masks. Fear clutched at her, and for a moment she thought she might indeed be sick.

  She swallowed hard against the bile and knew that for the sake of the ladies of England, nay for the sake of England itself, she had to do something. Not to save herself, for surely she could not, but for the others that would suffer if she would not.

  These men would die for Napoleon if need be. Am I willing to die for a greater cause as well? How can my resolve be any less, when theirs is so badly misplaced?

  Jane would have no time to think, only to act. Nor would she be afforded more than one opportunity. Jane considered the road. There was another hairpin turn ahead. She remembered the road as she was driving into the estate, the turn, around which she and Mrs. Poppy had first seen Kennett Park.

  Jane braced herself against the carriage and closed her eyes. Praying. Praying that whatever happened, this would be over quickly…that she would not suffer long. Perhaps her act would be seen as courageous someday, and the earl would know that even if Jane had not been a true lady, she had at least been brave.

  She felt it: the curving of the road. The horses squealed. Something was wrong. There were shouts outside
. This was it, her only opportunity. Jane felt the carriage rocking, slipping on the icy curve. She only needed to wait.

  Then it came, the very chance she needed. The carriage rocked, sinking dangerously into a rut, sliding on the ice. They were leaning, and off balance. In that instant Jane sprang from her seat, ignoring the men’s cries of alarm. She threw herself against the side of the vehicle that already was leaning too far. For a moment they hung like that, and she heard shouts, so many shouts.

  Then they were tipping, so slowly that it seemed she could have hung there forever. The men in the carriage scrambled to grab at her, but their weight only added to her own. Jane felt a hand close painfully around her arm and she threw her weight back and away, as the carriage fell, taking forever, crashing hard into the road. The horses screamed. No…she was screaming. The world was shattered around her, and she felt it, the wind and sleet upon her face.

  In the distance Jane could have sworn she heard Lord Keegain calling her name. She smiled, and thought she must look as crazy as the fanatics. Providence had given her the sound of his voice at the moment of her death.

  I have done it, she thought, as she tried to open her eyes, wanting to see. The world had stopped moving, painfully so. I have done it and they are stopped. She could die now and be content, for they would likely perish as she had, ending this. Ending whatever terrible conspiracy they had concocted. They would never hurt another again.

  She stared up at the sky, seeing for the first time that the sleet had turned to snow, thick heavy flakes that caught at her lashes. The flakes would cover her like a blanket. It was a cold blanket, but a blanket nonetheless and she would die warm. Content, Jane lay twisted in the wreckage making no move, unable to feel her limbs in the cold except to know that she ached. She could accept it though. She had stopped them, or so she thought, until impossibly, the pirate rose from the wreckage.

  Jane turned her head, opening her mouth to scream as he pulled himself up out of the debris. One arm hung uselessly at his side, but the other…the other was fine and he used it now to raise up his hand. He held a gun, a dark pistol that he aimed with one hand, pointing it back the way they had come.