by Fiona Faris
Lord Edenhall lurched forward, interrupting her. He bared his teeth before grabbing at her thin cotton gown.
“I care nothing for you, you silly girl. I’ll have your father’s lands however, and that means I shall marry you.”
Emily was not in a position to argue but she tried anyway. “Y-you cannot f-force m–”
Through the window, the rain slowly dissipated and the clouds thinned to expose a pale full moon. Emily thought she could see a glimmer of… wait. Just behind the brigand, it seemed that the door had opened just the slightest. Was it friend or foe?
Emily did not know what to do for the best.
This situation was downright petrifying, but Emily was a Caldwell. Her family had fought for the Stuarts for generations; not a single one of them had been spineless. The thought gave the girl courage.
Slouching as low as she could, she kicked out viciously with the leg closest to Philip. She caught him on the knee, relishing the thump of his flesh.
Leaning in, he sneered in her face before pummeling the girl about the face.
At first she felt the pain, but it did not matter, he could not hurt her heart. She had to be strong and keep believing that Alexander would save her from this.
Alexander where are you?
When he stopped beating her, she lifted her head, staring right him with defiant eyes. Emily breathed steadily, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of her mouth.
The brute glared at her, menacing and snarling with annoyance. The situation was very bad indeed.
Edenhall suddenly laughed, snapping his fingers as if bringing a dog to heel. The man behind him immediately came closer, glaring menacingly at Emily.
Emily’s lungs felt like stone, unmoving and unyielding. She could not breathe. Her blood felt like ice beneath her skin.
Kicking out her legs, she jerked on her hands and started to struggle against her bonds. All she wanted to do was escape and get as far away as she could from this lunatic; who else but a mad man would do something like this.
Someone, somewhere was choking, gasping for air and whimpering; it took Emily a few moments to realize that it was she.
The brigand lunged at her, spittle drooling from his mouth like a mad dog.
Edenhall laughed.
“Go and find out about her husband. Report to me on whether he is dead as yet.”
Edenhall came closer - close enough for her to feel his exhaled breaths against her skin. Pulling a large knife from his belt he pointed the edge against her heaving chest, smiling. The room was silent.
Without a further word, Edenhall and his sidekick left the room. Emily didn't’ know how long it took for her to breathe again, but when she did, she was cold and shivering. Her mouth was dry and her hands were going numb from being bound too tightly.
They had left with the torch, so to distract herself from the cloying dark, she blinked up at the night sky, and watched the pale, sliver of the moon through the clouds. Her chest burned, the pain hot and agonizing and completely overwhelming.
“Alexander,” she pleaded. But there was no answer.
Chapter Thirty
Rebecca packed up their things as Frances watched anxiously.
“What will we do if we don’t find her?”
“Wheesht! Dinna say that.”
“But what-”
Rebecca threw a shawl at her. “Shut yer mouth and help me pack.”
“Yes ma’am,” Frances whispered getting to her feet, her face pale with worry. Rebecca took a deep breath, not wanting to betray her own concerns. She thanked the lord that Frances could not hear her heart pounding away in her chest.
They were ready to go quite quickly and then went down stairs to the courtyard where Benjie was waiting with the horses.
“What will we do now?” Benjie’s red pimples stood out in his pale face. Rebecca sighed, trying to think what to do for the best. She did not want to take these two innocents into danger.
“You and Frances go back to Dun Alba and warn them that the brigands are aboot again. Secure the premises.”
Benjie nodded frantically. “Alright. But what about you? What will you do?”
Rebecca’s smile was grim. “Follow my brother, like always.”
She watched as they rode off before getting on her own horse and following her brother’s trail. It did not take her long to find the place where he was ambushed and to divine the direction of his captors.
If Alexander was taken, then it was left to her to get both her brother and his wife back home safely. She felt under her tunic for her own sword, the sghian dhu sheathed under her sleeve. There were advantages to being a woman; for no one would expect her to attempt a rescue. Not even Philip Bristol, who should know better.
Emily fell into a sort of stupor, blinking slowly at the faint light through the slats. The moon was gone.
This feeling of stupefied lethargy was unusual for her. Typically, she was raring to go, eyes darting about, thoughts flitting from topic to topic like a butterfly foraging for food.
But at that moment, she felt strangely slow; her brain stalled at every thought and she felt cold. Except for her chest, that burned in pain whenever she moved or tried to breathe too deeply.
Emily eventually heard a commotion above, though she couldn’t fathom what was happening. The sound of footsteps stomping on the stairs drifted down to her, followed by the slam of a door. Did that mean they were not too far from the occupied part of the house or that they were somewhere else entirely? Emily did not know which she was hoping for.
For all she knew they were making toast in the Eddingfield kitchen, none the wiser that she was currently tied up in the cellar.
Her heart clenched and raced within her ribs, twisted up with anxiety for the fate of her family as well as Alexander.
The door opened again and Edenhall’s second in command entered, depositing a torch in the bracket, which lit up the darkness causing Emily to close her eyes against the light.
When she opened them again, Rebecca was there, standing just inside the door, her arm firmly ensconced in the brigand’s hand, a sharp bruise on her cheek. Her eyes were bright and fierce as she stared at Emily.
Despite her position, Rebecca looked as regal and confident as ever.
Emily’s voice was quite unsteady when she spoke and she tried her best to sound light hearted.
“Hello there, Rebecca. Something of a pickle we find ourselves in, isn’t it?”
It didn’t come across anywhere near the light hearted effect she was aiming for.
Rebecca was as cool as a cucumber, no sign of worry on her face. She did not look frightened, more murderous, her expression dark and brooding.
Rebecca smoothed down the fabric of her dress; her chin raised proudly, nostrils flared. Emily watched her inhale sharply, and slightly parted her lips. “Are ye well, Sister?”
Emily snorted, incredulous and the slight heave of her chest set it to burning once again.
Rebecca turned to the brigand with his hand on her arm. “Ye may unhand me, sir. Ye have caught me; there is no need to keep touching me anymore.”
The man narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth as if he was an animal. “I’ll do whatever I want.” His eyes swept up and down Rebecca’s body, “Edenhall might have no use for you, but I do.”
Rebecca sneered at him, “Who said he doesn’t?”
The man looked uncertain for a minute before his eyes cleared. “I expect he’ll be up to sharin’.” He leered sickeningly at Rebecca but she simply looked back impassively.
He shrugged before gestured carelessly at Emily. “Go on and lounge with your ‘sister’, until Edenhall returns.”
Rebecca did not move. “Where is he?”
There was a long pause as the man leered and Rebecca just stood there, fastidious and implacable as ever, hands neatly folded on her skirt, eyes fearlessly locked with the brigand. He scoffed, twitching his head.
“Don’t you go getting airs now, Rebecca. You’
re nothing. You do not get to ask questions.”
Rebecca smirked. “I am obviously something to you,” she taunted.
“I’ll show you what you m–” he stopped suddenly, his face turning to shock before it went slack. Emily’s jaw dropped, her eyes drifting downward to see that the man had lunged right into Rebecca’s knife. It was now deeply embedded in his chest.
Rebecca let go and stepped back, letting the man slide to the floor before gliding forward to drop on one knee in front of Emily. Rebecca’s face was expressive, warm, soft and caring and angry.
“Emily.”
This was not the first time Rebecca had called her by her first name, but it was the first time she’s said it like this, with worry, care and relief.
She pushed her body forward, as close to Rebecca as she could; trying to make it easier for the girl to untie her.
Rebecca’s fingers were deft and swift in removing the ties that bound her to the pipe, before helping her to her feet. Emily hissed as the blood rushed back into her hands and Rebecca rubbed feeling back into them with short, efficient movements.
“Are we in the clear? Where are we?”
Rebecca stopped rubbing to look up at her in surprise. “We are at yer old home.”
“Oh.” Emily swallowed. “I’ve never…I’ve never seen this part of it.”
“Yes well, it’s an underground cellar, not far from the main house. It may be connected by hidden stairs. I dinna ken, he brought me through the grate on the surface.”
Emily looked up. “So that’s what that is.”
“Who else is here? Did you see my family?”
Emily slowly shook her head. “I dinna think there is anyone here but brigands.”
Emily’s heart stopped. “But…what could they have done with my family? He can’t have killed them all?”
Rebecca clasped her hand hard. “I do not think so. Some of your villagers say they saw the coaches leave this morning. I think yer family left or were encouraged to do so.”
Emily took a deep breath, not knowing what to think.
“Do you think that they are safe?”
“We will find out, I promise you. Now can ye move? We have to gang. Do ye ken where Alexander is?”
Emily’s eyes widened in alarm. “Alexander? Wh-what do you mean do I know where he is? Did you not come with him?”
Rebecca’s face was somber. “Alexander followed after ye right away. I found his tracks and it looks like there was some sort of stramash. It looks like they took him too.”
Emily felt her knees go weak and would have fallen where she stood if Rebecca had not caught her.
“Oh,” Emily’s tongue was thick and dumb in her dry mouth, the pipe cold between her naked shoulders.
Emily had long cultivated a mien of quiet efficiency and unflappable daintiness, but now she was stripped bare, too disoriented, afraid, and hurting to draw it over her like armor. She was grateful for the unmoving support her sister in law provided against this newest threat. It gave her a moment to pull herself back together.
Rebecca’s eyes drifted down Emily’s neck trailing a parallel path to the cuts on her chest, bleeding sluggishly and semi-crusted over.
“He did this to you, Emily?” she placed her palm flat over Emily’s pounding heart.
Emily shook her head mutely, not wanting to think about the impromptu beating Edenhall had given her earlier.
“We have to go before someone else comes.” Rebecca’s voice was gentle yet firm. With the help of Rebecca, Emily stood slowly, every art of her body aching. By sheer force of will she made herself put one leg in front of the other and walk.
Plucking the torch from the sconce, Rebecca lit their way forward through the door and up the stairs. They crept slowly until they reached the trapdoor, keeping an ear out for Edenhall or his goons. So far, so good; they crept out of the cellar and headed for the kitchens.
Emily grabbed Rebecca’s arm. “Wait. I heard voices in there earlier. What if they are Edenhall’s people?”
Rebecca nodded in understanding. “Where do we gang then?”
Emily furrowed her brow as she tried to imagine where they might have taken Alexander. She remembered the dark tunnel Philip had taken her through, which opened up at the stables and the other end not far from her old chambers.
“Follow me,” she told Rebecca and took off as fast as she cold for the stables. The compound remained eerily empty – no stable hands milling about, no gardeners pushing wheelbarrows in the garden, no maids throwing out pails of water. Just silence.
It increased Emily’s worry, even as she tried not to think about it.
They peered into the stable to see if anyone was about but that too was empty aside from one old man asleep on a pile of hay, and two dray horses. They crept to the far end of the room where Emily found the doorway through which they had emerged and set off down the dark tunnel.
Rebecca was a silent, unrelenting shadow behind her but she felt comforted by her sister in law’s presence. They shuffled slowly along, holding onto the sides of the walls to orient themselves. The path seemed interminably long but eventually they emerged in a larger corridor that Emily recognized.
They were in the south wing of the Hall and her former chambers were just around the corner.
“How will we find Alexander?” Rebecca whispered.
Emily shrugged. “We just have to look around until we get a clue. But first, I should like to put some more clothes on please. Let us go to my bedchambers. It is as good a place as any to plan.
Rebecca nodded and followed in Emily’s footsteps. They came to the door and Emily opened it, to reveal her darkened chamber. In spite of the risk of discovery, they still had the torch they’d taken from the cellar to light up the room.
They both froze in shock as their eyes fell on the bed where Alexander lay on his stomach, a large bleeding bruise on his head, hands tied behind his back even though he was clearly unconscious.
Chapter Thirty-One
Emily crossed over to the bed, dropping to her knees with a cry, hands on Alexander’s head like a benediction. “Alexander! Can you hear me?”
Rebecca crossed to the basin of water, still standing on the armoire and checked to see if there was any water in it.
Finding a half filled jug, she brought it over to the bed.
Emily looked up in surprise to see that Rebecca had the jug tipped, ready to pour over the head of Alexander. She opened her mouth to protest but Rebecca was already tilting the jug. She moved quickly out of the way and Rebecca doused Alexander’s head and neck with water. Then she reached down and cut the bindings that tied his hands.
Alexander woke with a splutter, spitting water out of his mouth, coughing and squirming. He blinked at Rebecca and Emily for a long moment, unable to see clearly.
“We should get out of here.”
Rebecca laughed. “That’s my brother. Can ye stand?”
Alexander stumbled clumsily to his feet, his sister and wife taking most of his weight. He pushed them gently away, swaying on his feet as he slowly blinked. His hand went up to touch the wound on his head. Emily winced in sympathy.
“Does it hurt?”
His hand reached out, running gently over the swelling of her cheek where Philip had slapped her. “This hurts me more.”
In spite of the situation, Emily blushed; feeling oddly pleased even as a nagging worry twisted in her stomach.
Rebecca grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “Let’s go. Ye can have yer cow eyed reunion later.” She peered out of the room before gesturing for Emily to go first, seeing as she was the one most familiar with the building. Emily walked confidently and quietly down the hall, before turning left and padding down the corridor. They peered over the balustrade as they got to the staircase to see if anyone was downstairs. A washer woman shuffled toward the foyer – Emily recognized her as a crofter from the village who sometimes came to help out when they needed extra staff. She frowned, wondering what sh
e was doing here now.
They waited until she disappeared out of the front door, listening for any further movement. After nothing stirred for five minutes they slowly began to make their way down the stairs.
“Shouldn’t we be headed for the stables again, to get horses?” Rebecca whispered as Emily turned toward the front door.
