John just shrugged. ‘No matter. I will deal with the Colonel if I have too, but I would prefer it if the necessity did not arise.’
The pair made their way out to the rear lawns and Cecelia indicated to the study window on the first floor. John looked around for something to climb but apart from some ivy, which would not have held his weight, there was nothing. Cecelia suggested that he retrieve the ladder from the barn, thus wasting a further ten minutes. Having secured the ladder against the wall to his satisfaction, John nimbly climbed it and tested the window but it was locked. He instructed Cecelia to hand him a large stone and proceeded to break the glass close to the latch. Gingerly putting his hand in, so as not to cut himself, he lifted the latch and raised the window sash. Cecelia watched him as he swung his long legs over the side. Finally, he leant out of the window and whispered down. ‘You had better go to the front of the house and keep watch in case the Colonel arrives home unexpectedly. I would much prefer to avoid a confrontation unless it is entirely necessary.’
Once inside the study, John proceeded to rifle through the desk but found nothing. He looked at the safe. If the Earl had the letter, surely this is where he would find it. The safe was just a simple strong box fixed with a straightforward lock but it was set in the wall so that it could not be carried away. The Viscount was quite an expert at picking locks and this one presented him with little problem so he set to work straight away. After ten minutes he succeeded in picking it but on opening the safe, he found it piled high with documents. He rifled through them looking for the letter and sighed with relief when finally he found it. He transferred the letter to his inner pocket and was disturbed by a hissing at the window. Cecelia was peering through. ‘Quickly,’ she urged. ‘Harry has returned.’
By the time Cecelia had run from the front of the house and back to the rear lawn to warn the Viscount, Harry had entered the hall and climbed the stairs to the first-floor landing. He took the key from his pocket and opened the study door. As he entered, he looked around in astonishment. The safe door stood open and papers and documents were strewn all over the desk. A rustling at the window caught his attention and he was just in time to see a man swing his legs over the sill and grinning at him. The Viscount knew that Harry had recognised him so it was pointless trying to make an escape. He brought his legs back over the window ledge and stood to his full height to face the Colonel. He would have to settle matters now, after all.
‘You!’ Harry shouted. ‘What is the meaning of this, Ashenden?’
Viscount Ashenden just smirked. ‘Good evening, Colonel. I see you have had an argument with a fist.’
Harry growled. ‘Mr Featherstone looks much worse, I can assure you, but never mind me, what business have you in the Earl’s study?’
‘I am sorry, Colonel, but Winstanley stole a letter belonging to me and I wanted it back. It was taken from my home the evening that the Northcote’s came for dinner.’
Harry was doubtful. He was well aware that his brother was capable of stealing a letter but there was more to this than met the eye. ‘I do not believe you,’ he replied. ‘In fact, I would hazard a guess that what you are looking for cost my brother his life. Am I correct in thinking so?’
The Viscount gave a sinister laugh. ‘Quite right, Colonel and now it is going to cost you yours. It would have been much easier if you had not interfered. It is a shame that I missed you the night you left the Dereham’s garden party, but Winstanley was my main target. Your presence that night was definitely de trop but now I regret that I did not finish the job.’
Harry drew his sword and confronted his unwanted guest. The Viscount just looked at it derisively. ‘You will find that I am not so easy to overcome as Mr Featherstone. You will have to do better than that,’ he said, pulling a pistol from out of his pocket. Harry’s battle reflexes came to the fore and he acted instinctively with lightning speed. He had anticipated the Viscount’s reaction. A quick twist of the wrist and the Viscount’s gun was wrested from his grip and went skidding under the desk. ‘A sword should never be underestimated in the hands of an expert,’ he said. ‘It has been my constant companion this last seven years and has never let me down yet.’ Harry held out his hand. ‘Now I will take back whatever it is you have stolen.’
Lord Ashenden held his wrist. Miraculously, apart from a whiplash injury he had not been hurt, but that was a result of Harry’s expertise. The Viscount gave a curious smile. ‘Oh, I think not,’ he replied. ‘You see, I still have...’
Harry did not hear him finish his sentence as a heavy object came crashing down on his head and darkness enveloped him.
Cecelia stood there with a marble statue of Aphrodite in her hand. She looked down at Harry’s inert body with her wide brown eyes. ‘Oh, have I killed him, John?’
The Viscount knelt down and felt his neck. ‘No, you have not killed him but he is as good as dead now. He knows too much. I cannot do the deed here. I will take him to the Northern Spirit on the Tyne and sail him out to the North Sea. If I dump his body out far enough, it should never be discovered and one needs a body to establish murder. If by any chance he is washed up to shore, the authorities will believe he just drowned, especially if I do the thing right and leave no marks. Now go and find something to tie him up with before he recovers consciousness, and for goodness sake, keep the study door locked. We will wait until it gets dark before we remove him. Another hour should do it. You will have to keep the servants occupied for we cannot afford witnesses.’
As Cecelia left the study to find some rope, a lone figure quickly retreated to the safety of the library next door where he hid silently. Thomas the footman had been standing at the door and had heard it all, but what was he to do? He was not a coward but he had no weapon and thus would be no match for the formidable Viscount. He liked the new Earl. He was a fair and kindly man and was good to the servants. Thomas must think fast if he was to save his life. He could not call on the support of the under footman because it was his day off, and he knew that the Butler was not one of the Colonel’s admirers. Metcalfe might dismiss it as nonsense and side with Lady Northcote.
Thomas did not consider for very long. The best solution was to ride over to Chalcotte Grange and enlist the help of Sir Sebastian Wyndholme. Wyndholme would know what to do. With this resolve, Thomas crept through the dimming twilight towards the stables to saddle a horse. He bypassed the intimidating Julius, a war horse that he doubted he could handle, and saddled Aramis the calm and tranquil bay that belonged to the deceased Earl. Quietly leading Aramis out of the yard and away from the house, he broke into a gallop. Time was of the essence.
On reaching Chalcotte Grange, Thomas quickly dismounted and banged urgently on the knocker. The maid answered the door and recognised the Winstanley footman straight away. ‘Why, Thomas. Whatever brings you here?’
‘Thomas was out of breath and nearly bent double. ‘I must speak to Sir Sebastian Wyndholme straight away. It is the matter of the utmost urgency.’
The maid stood aside so that the footman could enter into the hall. ‘I shall advise lady Trevarren that you are here, if you will just wait a moment.’
Sophie came to greet him but had unfortunate news. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, Thomas but my cousin is not at home. He is attending a dinner party with my Aunt and Uncle at Lord Dereham’s home. You are fortunate to find me at home. I remained behind with my young brother.’
Thomas was frustrated and procrastinated not quite knowing what to do. ‘You had better come into the drawing room and tell me all about it. Maybe I can be of assistance,’ she said with increasing concern.
Not knowing very much about lady Trevarren, Thomas did not believe she could be of any assistance at all. Her female gender precluded her and he was reticent to distress her with his news. He ignored her request for information as there was no time to explain. ‘Can you give me Lord Dereham’s direction?’ he asked urgently. ‘It is imperative that I speak with your cousin straight away.’
Sophie was now quite alarmed. Something terrible must have happened at Winstanley Hall. Harry! Something must have happened to Harry or it would be he who was standing here now. She assumed an attitude of haughty authority. The attitude of a superior speaking to a subordinate, a ploy she did not like to take with servants. She only hoped it would work because Thomas was not in her employ. However, she was determined to wring the problem out of him one way or another. ‘I demand that you tell me, Thomas, for if it is that urgent, my family are still an hour’s drive away and then it would take an hour to get back.’
At that moment Daniel entered the drawing room. ‘Who was that at the door, Sophie? It is not Aunt and Uncle back already, is it?’
Sophie looked up. ‘No Daniel, it is Thomas, the footman from Winstanley Hall. There is trouble and he was just going to tell me all about it.’ She sternly returned her attention back to the footman. ‘Weren’t you Thomas?’
Thomas submitted and came out with the whole story. ‘So you see that it is imperative that I see Sir Wyndholme straight away.’
Sophie summed up the situation quickly. If they could rely upon everything Thomas said, there would no time to seek out Sebastian or her Uncle. He said that the Colonel had been securely tied so she must act quickly if Harry were to have any chance at all.
‘There is no time to go to the Dereham’s. Wait here,’ she instructed the footman. ‘I shall change and see to the matter myself.’
Thomas looked at her in disbelief. ‘But lady Trevarren, the man is dangerous. He murdered Lord Northcote, and you, forgive me for saying, are a female. You cannot go alone,’ he replied with profound feeling.
Daniel spoke up. ‘She will not be alone, for I shall go with her. We must save the Colonel.’
Sophie glanced at her little brother in approval but she did not want him underfoot. ‘If you wish to help me, Daniel, you must go and saddle Zephyrus, ride across to the Dereham’s and fetch Sebastian and my uncle straight away.’
Daniel began to argue but Sophie stayed him with a sharp command. ‘There is no time to argue, Daniel. Do as I say. I will not be alone for I shall have Thomas with me. If you are swift we may still be able to rely on Sebastian yet. Tell him to make his way down to the Tyne River where he should find Lord Ashenden’s boat.
She turned to Thomas. ‘What did you say it was called?’
‘The Northern Spirit, my lady,’ he confirmed resignedly.
She turned urgently back to her brother. ‘The Northern Spirit, you must remember it, Daniel. Move. Now go!’
Daniel realising the sense in her argument left to do her bidding and Sophie rushed upstairs to fetch her sword and pistol. Thomas gaped in shock as she descended back down the stairs. She was wearing a man’s billowing shirt and breeches and her blonde hair was tied hurriedly back. She handed him a flintlock. ‘Do you know how to handle a pistol, Thomas?’ she asked sharply.
‘Why yes, my lady. The master allowed me to shoot game on my day off.’
‘Good,’ she replied curtly. ‘The Newcastle Docks, did you say? Hurry man, we have no time to lose.’
*****
As twilight turned into complete darkness, lady Northcote gathered the servants in the drawing room at Winstanley Hall. She told Metcalfe the butler to gather them together as she wished to discuss the changes that would need to take place since the death of her husband. Her intention was to keep them occupied while the Viscount carried Harry’s bound and gagged body to the Winstanley carriage.
Lady Northcote inspected her line of servants. One of them was missing. She turned to Metcalfe. ‘Where is Thomas?’ she asked the butler in displeasure.
Metcalfe cleared his throat and appeared embarrassed, but he unwittingly gave the Countess a rational explanation. ‘I cannot find him, your ladyship. He has a liking for the daughter of one of the tenant farmers and I believe he has sneaked out to meet her. He has done it before, my Lady and I gave him a warning. Rest assured I shall discipline him more severely this time.’
Lady Northcote was too relieved to pursue the matter. ‘See that you do, Metcalfe. I cannot have the servants absconding at leisure. Tell him that should he do so again, he will be dismissed.’
While Lady Northcote assured her servants that she would do her best to assure a smooth transition under the New Earl, Lord Ashenden carried Harry to the Winstanley carriage that he had personally brought to the front door. He staggered under Harry’s weight but eventually succeeded in dumping him unceremoniously into the coach. By this time Harry had regained consciousness but his bindings were tight and there was little he could do. He was angry and no easy burden. He did not know who had hit him on the back of the head but it was obvious that Ashenden had an accomplice. Harry had his suspicions as to who it was and was cursing himself for being so careless. He would not have been so negligent in Portugal or Spain, but it was too late now. He realised that he was in quite an impossible predicament, and if had any chance at all, he would need to free himself of his bindings. He struggled valiantly but it was no good. Ashenden had done his job well and the more Harry struggled the tighter the binding became.
He wondered why Ashenden did not kill him straight away and where the carriage was heading. The loss of personal control unnerved him. Not even in the Peninsular, when lying in the hospital tent recovering from his head wound, did he fear for his life. But now that he had found love, he had no wish to die.
Viscount Ashenden drove the carriage out of the great gates of the Winstanley Estate just as Sophie and Thomas were leaving Chalcotte Grange on horseback, both heading in the direction of the Tyne River.
On horseback, the journey to the Tyne River would take at least forty-five minutes. It would be two whole hours before they could rely on Sebastian and her uncle and that was only if they acted promptly. No, Sophie and Thomas were on their own and they had to succeed. On reaching Newcastle they steered their mounts down Dean Street onto the bank called the Side and eventually down to the Quayside itself. The area, normally a hive of activity with the transporting and shipping of coal was quieter now, but the docks never truly slept. A few people still went about their business but they were too busy to pay attention to the riders who had descended in their midst. Coal ships and Keelboats navigated the river and others bobbed in their moorings. Sophie scanned them all.
She turned to Thomas. ‘We must find the Northern Spirit and quickly?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ he replied as he scanned the long line of boats and shipping vessels.
As Sophie did not know what kind of boat the Northern Spirit was, she examined them all. It could have been anything from a coal ship to a pleasure yacht. As far as she was aware, Lord Ashenden was not involved in the coal industry so she assumed that it was the latter. They rode along the Quayside but could not find a boat called the Northern Spirit.
Sophie frowned. If it was a pleasure boat, it may be moored further up the river, past the river Ouse estuary and in a quieter spot. She urged Excalibur on across the Ouse and past the glass houses examining the name of each boat moored along the way and Thomas followed loyally in her wake. Eventually, she found it. The Northern Spirit was a small pleasure yacht moored on the Ropery past the main hub of shipping. She approached cautiously but except for the wind rattling in the riggings, all was quiet. She doubted herself and turned again to her companion. ‘Are you sure that he was heading for here, Thomas?’ she asked uncertainly.
‘That is what he said, my lady and I could not have guessed the name of this boat.’
He had a point and Sophie was reassured.
‘Perhaps, my lady, with a prisoner, he will be travelling in a carriage and will be making much slower progress. I think we have arrived before him. We just need to wait.’
Thomas was not happy. ‘Please my Lady, let me fetch the constable.’ He had been begging to do so this last hour, but she had ignored him. ‘There is no time. Have courage, Thomas, we will come about.’
Thomas very much doubted it. He did not know Sophie and w
as unaware of her competent proficiency with a pistol and sword. All he saw was a fragile female with a propensity for recklessness. He realised that he should have defied her and done what he thought was right in the first place, facing the consequences of his disobedience later. It was too late now as he could not leave her when they expected Lord Ashenden to arrive at any minute.
‘We must find somewhere to hide,’ Sophie said, looking around for a suitable place. ‘Over here, Thomas.’ They retreated into the shadow of a building and waited. It was one of the glass manufacturing houses that lined the Quayside and afforded them good cover.
Sophie inspected her surroundings. There was not a soul in sight on this part of the river. She whispered across to the footman. ‘While we are waiting, we need to devise a plan.’
‘What do you suggest, my lady?’ he asked, now quite reconciled to the inevitable. If he could not stop her the least he could do was try to protect her.
She nodded across to the Northern Spirit. ‘I think we will have to intercept them before they step onto that gang plank. If Harry is tied hand and foot, as he still must be, Lord Ashenden will have to carry him. The Viscount will, therefore, be vulnerable to attack.’
Sophie only hoped that she was not too late and Harry was not already dead. She shuddered and dismissed the thought before it took hold and fear caused her to cease to function rationally. Now was not the time to lose courage.
Removing her knife from the sheath on her belt, she handed it to Thomas. ‘Here take this. I will cover Lord Ashenden with my pistol, and on my say so you must release the Colonel of his bonds. Once he is free, the Colonel will know what to do.’
Thomas nodded his agreement. ‘Are you sure you can handle that pistol, my lady. Perhaps it is I who should confront the Viscount and you untie the Colonel.’
Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery Page 18
