by Ellery Adams
She curled her fingers around his. As she did so, an involuntary sob escaped her lips.
“It’s all right,” Edwin said, his voice a dry rasp. “You’re here. Everything is all right.”
He waited for her to nod before squeezing her fingers a little tighter. “I don’t know how many days I’ve closed my eyes and whispered that I’d trade my soul to see you again. My prayers have been answered. But Jane, you’ve walked into terrible danger. How many Fins are with you?”
Jane inched to one side, allowing Lachlan to approach the speakeasy.
He was already focused on the next task, which was breaking Edwin out. “Are these doors automated? There’s a panel next to each one.”
“To open the food slot, they use a numerical code,” Edwin said. “To open the whole door requires a thumbprint.”
Jane tried to fight a sinking feeling. Lachlan was clever, but she didn’t think he could disable the door’s security system. Still, she asked if he could hack the panel.
“It has a dual fail-safe system,” Lachlan said, scrutinizing the panel. “If I tamper with it, it’ll transmit a signal. Even if that signal was jammed by our RF device, there’s a second fail-safe.”
Edwin looked grave. “Poisonous gas. It’ll be released into my room.”
Jane was silent following this remark.
“Your best bet is to wait for my meal delivery,” Edwin said. “I assume it’s nighttime and the estate is closed to visitors?” At Jane’s nod, Edwin gestured toward the stairs. “Which means they could be here any second.”
Lachlan checked his watch. “How many men come at once?”
“Two,” Edwin said. “You’ll have to take them by surprise.”
Jane wondered how they’d be able to overpower guards with nowhere to hide. “We should wait under the stairs.”
While her mind played out scenarios, her eyes took in Edwin’s appearance. His body was gaunt. His face was sunken. His skin was pallid. He was a shade of his former self.
“I’m okay,” he whispered as if he’d read her thoughts. “You’re here. Everything will be okay.”
“We’d better move, Miss Jane,” Lachlan warned. “If we don’t get behind the stairs, we’ll be discovered.”
Suddenly, the sound of clapping hands reverberated through the corridor.
Jane turned to her right, toward the last door, and saw a man. He was the source of the slow, mocking applause.
Ramsey Parrish lowered his hands, flashed them a smug smile, and said, “Too late.”
Chapter Four
Jane was too shocked to react. She stood, rooted in place, as Ramsey Parrish smiled at her.
Lachlan was trained to respond to any situation, no matter how unexpected, with alacrity. His years in the military had honed his instincts so that even as his brain was processing the dramatic turn of events, his body was already in motion.
“Parrish,” he whispered, whipping out his knife. He leaped forward in the same breath. Neither his swiftness nor his weapon mattered, for Parrish produced a gun and aimed it at Lachlan’s chest.
Jane no longer thought of him as Ramsey Parrish, manager of Biltmore, but as a Templar and a miscreant. He was only Parrish now.
“Don’t come any closer,” he warned. The mirth was gone from his eyes. “In fact, I’d be more comfortable if you’d return to your original position. We all need our personal space.”
Jane should have trembled at the sight of the gun. She should have thought of her sons, her family, Edwin, her friends—of all she stood to lose—and she should have been afraid. Parrish could shoot her and Lachlan without fear of discovery and toss their bodies in a cell. Then, he could dust off his suit and go about his business. No one would ever be the wiser.
Despite this chilling fact, Jane wasn’t frightened. The initial shock had given way to anger. The anger mixed with a fight-or-flight reaction, pumping her full of adrenaline. She could feel the heat of her fury moving through her veins, and she wished Parrish wasn’t standing so far away. How dare he threaten them? How dare he imprison Edwin?
“Real men of power don’t need firearms,” she said to Parrish, injecting her voice with as much haughtiness as she was able to muster. “A man who hides behind a gun when facing an unarmed woman is a coward.”
Parrish seemed delighted by Jane’s caustic remarks. “I couldn’t agree more, Ms. Steward. Upon my honor as a gentleman, I will holster my weapon. I’d ask your lackey to do the same.”
“He’s no lackey.” Though the term fanned Jane’s anger, she didn’t want Parrish to know it. She turned to Lachlan. “Please sheath your knife.”
After casting a hostile glare in Parrish’s direction, Lachlan complied.
Without realizing it, Jane put her hands on her hips and stared Parrish down. This was the posture she adopted when the twins were misbehaving, and it felt like a natural thing for her to do. “You’re clearly not surprised to find us here, so why don’t you explain why you’ve been holding Edwin against his will?”
Parrish spread his hands. “I plan to tell you many things, Ms. Steward, but not in this setting. We all need something to warm our bones. A roaring fire and a glass of excellent Scotch are in order.”
“Are you letting Edwin out?” Jane pointed at his cell door, sounding more desperate than she meant to.
Parrish shook his head in feigned regret. “That’s not possible at this time. However, if you and I reach a mutual understanding, then Mr. Alcott will return to Storyton with you.”
For the first time since Parrish’s arrival, Edwin spoke. “Don’t bargain with this snake. I don’t care what he says he’ll do to me, don’t listen to him. I’ll be okay. No matter what he says or how he tries to scare you, I’ll get out of here in one piece.”
When Jane didn’t respond, Edwin’s gaze moved to Lachlan. “Keeping your oath means not standing by while she makes a deal with the devil. If he tries to use me as leverage to force her into a vulnerable position, promise that you’ll get her out of here. I don’t care who you have to kill to do it.”
To Jane’s annoyance, Lachlan gave a brief nod.
“Hello, I’m standing right here,” she snapped at Edwin. “I will make my own decisions, thank you very much. If you treat me like a little kid, I might just leave you in that cell.”
Though she didn’t mean that, she was tired of people manipulating her and pushing her about like a pawn on a chessboard. This was her fight. Parrish had become her enemy the second one of his colleagues had abducted her sons. She was here to rescue Edwin, but she was also here to let these people see that she would not be intimidated.
“I can practically see the sparks flying between you two,” Parrish said in an amused tone.
“Shall we get on with this?” Jane asked. She was impatient to find out what he wanted, though she was sure it would involve the location of Storyton’s secret library. It made the most sense. After all, another Templar had kidnapped her sons in hopes of gaining access to the library. Though that man had failed and had paid a horrible price for his failure, Jane didn’t feel an iota of sympathy for him. If he hadn’t taken his own life, she might have killed him herself.
If Ramsey Parrish was involved in the kidnapping, he will pay for messing with my boys, she silently seethed.
After agreeing that it was time to leave, Parrish spoke another Latin phrase and the slab hiding the staircase moved. Once their exit was revealed, Parrish beckoned for Jane to go first. As she saw no other alternative, she whispered to Edwin that she’d be back for him and ascended to the ground-level corridor.
Switching on a flashlight, Parrish took the lead. His unhurried gait and self-assurance annoyed Jane. She wished there was an obvious course of action for her to take, but she didn’t think there was anything to do but follow along.
The opportunity will present itself, Miss Jane.
Sinclair’s voice echoed in Jane’s head as if he stood right beside her. She pictured his face, as well as those of Butterworth, t
he head butler, and Sterling, the head chauffeur. She realized that no matter what Parrish did to her, she need only hold out until the rest of her Fins came for her. Besides, she still had Lachlan. Her faith in him hadn’t wavered because he hadn’t overcome an armed opponent. Like Jane, he’d been taken by surprise. It had been a learning experience for them both. They had to be prepared for more surprises, which was why Jane steeled herself when Parrish opened the door to the outside, and she saw an idling car parked on the grass in front of the Bacchus fountain.
“Who’s in the car?” she asked Parrish.
“My driver. He will transport us to the cottage on the estate. He will not speak, so please save your questions for our fireside tête-à-tête.”
Parrish’s arrogance was maddening, but Jane refused to let him goad her. She slid into the sedan’s roomy back seat and said nothing.
Though it was nearly impossible to see through the car’s tinted windows, Jane pretended to be riveted by the dark grounds. Lachlan sat beside her and stared at the back of Parrish’s head, fantasizing about sticking his knife into it.
It was a short ride to their destination. The driver opened the front door and waved for Jane and Lachlan to enter. Despite the precariousness of her position, Jane found the cottage quite charming. The living room was small but cozy. The fire was already lit, and a brass tray with glasses, an ice bucket, and a bottle of Scotch had been placed on the coffee table.
Parrish invited Jane and Lachlan to sit on the sofa while he took one of the wing chairs facing the fire. Lachlan refused and moved to stand behind Jane. He also declined Parrish’s offer of a drink.
When Jane said that she’d rather have a cup of tea, Parrish snapped his fingers. Seconds later, a very tall, very wide, and very formidable-looking man appeared in the doorway.
“A pot of Himalayan White, Bruno.”
The enormous man dipped his chin and left.
“Bruno is a man of many skills,” Parrish said. “Luckily, brewing the perfect pot of tea happens to be one of them.”
Parrish prattled on about tea for several minutes, describing his favorite Chinese blends and his preference for Chinese tea ceremonies over the British high-tea service. He was still talking when Bruno returned carrying a bamboo tray with a clay teapot and two plain mugs without handles.
Bruno poured the tea and offered Jane a cup. She accepted it but didn’t drink. The tea could be drugged. Bruno had prepared it in another room, which meant she didn’t dare take a sip.
“Bruno, please pour a taste of Ms. Steward’s tea into the empty cup and drink it,” Parrish commanded with the nonchalance of a man giving an order to a waiter.
The silent man reclaimed Jane’s mug, tipped it over the second mug, and drank a swallow. He then set her mug on the tray, refilled the amount he’d consumed, and moved to the door. After taking up a sentinel position, he stared blankly at the opposite wall.
“I believe you’ll find the floral notes and subtly sweet aftertaste quite pleasant,” Parrish said, gesturing at the teapot.
Jane picked up her cup and took a tentative sip. The tea was light and lovely. She took a second sip and could feel the dampness of the secret corridor under the esplanade begin to dissipate. After a third sip, Jane was ready to dispense with the small talk and get down to business.
“Thank you for the tea,” she said. “Could we move on to the topic at hand? What did you hope to achieve from abducting and imprisoning Edwin Alcott?”
“Such a strident choice of words.” Parrish frowned at Jane over the rim of his crystal tumbler. “I want you to know that Mr. Alcott was given the opportunity to upgrade to nicer accommodations, but he was less than cooperative. I hope you and I don’t reach a similar impasse. I’d prefer we come to a mutually beneficial understanding.”
Jane said nothing. It was clear that Parrish liked the sound of his own voice. He’d probably been looking forward to this meeting for quite a while and had practiced his speech in the shower or while shaving in front of a very big mirror.
“Ms. Steward, my request is simple. I would like to accompany you when you return to Storyton Hall. You are in possession of a great treasure.” He held up a finger. “Please don’t insult me by denying the existence of your secret library. I know that it’s somewhere on your estate. I know that it is filled with many rare and wonderful materials. It is not my intention to storm your castle and steal your collection. There are select items that I would like to claim, and I’d like your assistance in procuring these materials.”
Jane wanted to laugh in his face. His request was so bold and so utterly absurd that she had to sip more tea to keep from blurting out a string of insults. It was paramount that she weigh each word. After all, a human life hung in the balance of this bargaining session.
Don’t show him any emotion, she told herself. No matter what he says or does. Don’t let him bait you into losing your cool.
“In exchange for access to your materials, I will set Mr. Alcott free,” Parrish continued. “After obtaining what I need, I will leave your home, your family, and your companions alone.”
“If I reject your proposal?” Jane asked. “What happens then?”
Parrish sighed. “I’d rather not state the obvious. Suffice it to say, you and Mr. Alcott will never be reunited.”
Jane focused on the warmth moving from her teacup to her palms. “You’d kill him?”
Parrish spread his hands. The gesture made it quite clear that he had no qualms about murdering his prisoner.
“How many henchmen will be accompanying you to my home?” she asked.
Parrish shook his head. “I don’t require any assistance. We’re making a simple trade. That’s all. You know what’s at stake should you cross me.”
Jane didn’t believe this for an instant. If Parrish traveled alone, it meant that he had already had cronies in place. But where? Were they Storyton Hall staff members? Employees in the village shops? The cashier at The Pickled Pig Market? One of the seasonal clerks at Storyton Outfitters? Or would they be among the group of historians arriving at Storyton Hall that afternoon?
As this wasn’t the moment to dwell on such possibilities, Jane pushed this subject aside. She could revisit it later.
“Edwin must return to Storyton with me,” she said flatly. “I’m not leaving Biltmore without him. If you don’t give me what I want, then you stand no chance of getting what you want.”
To her surprise, Parrish didn’t refute her. Instead, he drained the rest of his Scotch, put his glass to the side, and tented his fingers under his chin.
“In this matter, I am at liberty to give you a choice. You may choose freedom for Mr. Alcott—though he will ride with me and remain a guest in my suite at Storyton Hall until I’ve procured the materials I seek—or you may choose the person occupying the cell next to Mr. Alcott’s. I was visiting this person when you and Mr. Lachlan arrived.”
Jane turned to look at Lachlan, which wasn’t easy with him standing directly behind her. She frowned as if to say, what is Parrish babbling about?
Lachlan put a hand on her back and applied pressure. Though the contact was brief, Jane understood its meaning. Lachlan was telling her to hear out the madman and to maintain an air of detachment.
Jane couldn’t understand Parrish’s game. He was confident that she’d agree to trade certain materials for Edwin’s release. She didn’t plan on giving Parrish a thing, of course. She wouldn’t let him have so much as a Storyton Hall notepad or pen. Not even one of the collectible bookmarks the children received whenever they borrowed a book from the Henry James Library. No. Once she was back home, Parrish would be on her turf. He would be a known enemy. Jane would have the full might and protection of her Fins, her friends, and her family. As would Edwin. If Parrish had colleagues waiting to assist him, Jane would ferret them out.
Bring it on, she thought, gazing benignly at Parrish. You’ll be sorry you tangled with me and the man I love.
“I don’t understand why I
’d substitute Edwin for another prisoner,” she said. “Exactly how many people do have you locked up?”
“Two.” Parrish refilled his tumbler with Scotch and poured two fingers’ worth into a second glass. “My dear, I believe you’ll need this in a few minutes, so I’ll place it close at hand. Bruno? Would you bring in the laptop?”
Jane felt a prickle of dread. What horrors were stored on Parrish’s laptop? Had he managed to position another Templar within reach of her family? Or within reach of the Cover Girls, her beloved book club friends? Is that why Parrish was giving her the glass of Scotch? Because she’d be so unsettled by whatever Parrish showed her that she’d need a stiff drink?
Stop it, she told the panicked voice inside her head.
Her sons were fine. She’d just spoken with them. Aunt Octavia and Uncle Aloysius were also fine. She’d chatted with them during her lunch break, and her great-uncle had talked about tomorrow’s fishing excursion with Fitz and Hem. Aunt Octavia had told Jane how much she was enjoying her current read, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith.
“You really must borrow my book when I’m done,” her great-aunt had exclaimed. “Eloise suggested it and, as usual, her recommendation was spot on. Jane, the characters’ ruined castle of a home will make you feel worlds better about our cantankerous furnace or overgrown orchard. We’re Buckingham Palace compared to the dilapidated pile inhabited by these poor people. The burgeoning authoress of a narrator, a young woman named Cassandra, alternates between making me laugh and wringing my hands with worry.”
Jane had promised to move the book to the top of her TBR pile.
Bruno returned, interrupting Jane’s vision of the book stack on her nightstand. He removed the tea tray and replaced it with a large laptop. He opened the screen, pivoted it so that it faced Jane, and withdrew to his position by the door. All of this was completed without a word. It was as if the man didn’t even breathe.
“When you push the play button on this video feed, I think you’ll understand why your choice won’t be easy.” Parrish wore that smug grin again. Before, that mocking upward curve of his lips had made Jane angry. Now, it made her nervous. Who was in this video?
