“Might I suggest we examine the information we have regarding Fiona?” Captain Henderson asked.
“An excellent idea,” Mari said, “and do stop wearing out the carpet, Ian.”
He mumbled something under his breath but slumped into a chair by the desk. “So what do we ken besides the fact that Henderson took Fiona to Dublin?”
Jamie recounted the events that led up to the abduction and what had been done in London, more for Captain Henderson’s benefit than anyone else’s since nothing had changed since Ian had gone to Edinburgh.
Captain Henderson nodded. “Avery told me Fiona was his daughter, distraught over her recent widowhood, and that she needed to get away. I hope you will all forgive me,” he finished. “I did not know who she was.”
Jamie looked grim. “Avery—or Alton—is a devious mon.”
The captain’s expression was equally grim. “I do not like being deceived. If the man is still in Dublin, I want to meet up with him one more time.”
“Aye, we all would,” Ian replied.
“A swift death would be too kind,” Jamie added and exchanged a look with Mari.
Shauna couldn’t blame either of her brothers for wanting to kill the man given what he’d attempted with both Jillian and Mari. “Please have patience. Before ye all take your revenge on the mon, let us find Fiona first,” Shauna said.
“I think it would be beneficial if I talked with Mr. Molyneux,” Mari said. “Maybe he has remembered something.”
Jamie’s face darkened. “We already discussed that. The answer is nae.”
Shauna turned to Robert, ignoring the fiery unspoken language flying between her brother and sister-by-marriage. “Did that monster give you any indication where he was taking Fiona?”
He shook his head. “I questioned Avery about your sister’s condition when they left the ship since she was still looking ill. He said he felt sure with a few days of care, she wouldn’t be the same person.”
“Did he indicate if they were staying in Dublin?” Mari asked. “Or did he say anything about taking her to the country?”
Ian snorted. “I doona think the mon was concerned over Fiona’s health.”
“Besides,” Abigail said thoughtfully, “most English still consider anything beyond the Pale of Dublin barbaric. I would suspect Frenchmen would find the Irish countryside even more appalling.”
“I don’t know about that,” Captain Henderson answered, “but they took a city hack, not a country coach.”
“All right then. We will assume they are still in Dublin,” Ian said and rose. “I will get the ship provisioned and then look for new crew to replace those we left at Whitby. With luck, we can be ready to sail in three or four days’ time.”
“I will go with you,” Captain Henderson said.
As they were about to leave, Ian turned at the door to look at the women. “And this time, there will be no stowing away. Understood?”
“I would not risk trying to get onboard the ship again,” Mari advised Shauna as they waited for Abigail in the richly appointed parlor of her father’s townhouse two afternoons later. “Both Jamie and Ian will be watching like hawks.”
“I ken that,” Shauna said and looked around, trying to take her mind off the fact that Ian and Jamie would be leaving without her. A silver candelabra stood atop the gleaming ebony wood of a closed grand piano. Ancestral oil paintings in gold-gilded frames adorned the walls and the ivory satin damask of the curtains matched the padded cushions on the ornately-carved mahogany furniture. Figurines of fine china and delicate crystal vases graced the small tables scattered around. “I kenned Abigail’s father was an earl, but I had nae idea he was such a wealthy one.”
“He is, although he is as down to earth as Abigail, and he seldom mentions it.” Mari gestured. “This room was decorated by Abigail’s mother. I guess Lord Sherrington left it this way as a tribute to his wife.”
“He did,” Abigail said as she entered from the hallway. “He hardly ever comes in here.” She sank down on one of the dainty chairs with curved cabriole legs. “I prefer the library myself, but this room is good for private conversation.”
“I was just about to tell Mari how I feel so useless sitting here and doing nothing.”
“What we are planning to do will help,” Abigail said.
“Do ye really think we’ll be able to extract any information from Brice Molyneux?” Shauna asked. “I thought Jamie already questioned him.”
“He did, but Jamie’s method of persuasion is different from ours,” Mari said.
Abigail nodded. “Fiona did tell you how she and Mari and I were able to get Shane’s medieval scroll out of the hands of the customs man, did she not?”
“Aye,” Shauna replied. “And, if I remember, Jamie was nae pleased about how ye did it.”
Mari waved a dismissive hand. “He could not deny our plan worked.”
“And did Jamie nae say ye’d already discussed this idea and ye were nae to talk to this Mr. Molyneux?”
“Jamie said I was not to talk to Mr. Molyneux alone.” Mari smiled mischievously. “Obviously, if you and Abigail come along, I will not be alone.”
Shauna grinned at her. “I like the way ye think.”
“Well then, we had better be going,” Abigail said as she rose. “I ordered Father’s carriage to be brought around.”
“He did not ask where we were going?” Mari asked as they walked into the foyer.
“Oh, he did. I told him we were going shopping.” Abigail gestured to the maids who waited by the door. “That is why they are here. I thought we could drop them off at Gunther’s to enjoy ices while we go shopping for information.”
Shauna laughed. “And I like that plan too. ’Tis devious.”
Abigail pushed her spectacles up. “Sometimes a woman has to do what is best.”
“Ye did what?” Ian asked later that evening when they were all gathered in the library. He almost dropped the whisky bottle he was holding.
“After I forbid it?” Jamie said indignantly, setting his own glass down.
Captain Henderson looked from one man to the other and took a sip of his own dram. “Quite good stuff.”
Both her brothers ignored the attempt at civility, but Shauna smiled at him.
This afternoon, her respect for her sisters by marriage had increased. After a somewhat rocky start with the Earl of Sefton’s nephew insisting he’d already told them everything he knew, his memory had returned suddenly when Abigail held up several vowel notes that Brice had signed over to Augustus Barry, the less reputable brother of Lord Barrymore, in a high-stakes Faro game at White’s the week before. That Abigail had known to send her father’s man of business in search of such a thing had impressed Shauna, even after Mari told her that many of the younger relatives of the Prince Regent’s set commonly gambled and often lost to the more experienced players.
Mari herself had been no less resourceful. When she’d mentioned that Walter Avery was suspected in abducting Fiona and Brice could be considered an accessory, he had blanched and gripped both armrests of his chair for support. After that, the words had tumbled out so fast, they could scarce be understood.
Now all Shauna had to do was convince her brothers to thank them for their efforts. Given the men’s livid looks, that might be the most difficult feat of all.
“I forbid ye to go see that mon!” Jamie said again, this time picking up his glass and draining it. “Why can ye nae heed my words?”
Mari rounded her eyes like an owl’s and blinked innocently at him. “But I did heed your words. I did not go alone.”
Jamie ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Do not toy with the words. Ye ken what I meant.”
“And ye.” Ian looked sternly at Abigail. “What do ye think Shane will say when he learns of your shenanigans?”
Abigail gave
him an equally wide-eyed look. “I suspect he will thank me.”
An odd sound that quickly turned into a cough emanated from Captain Henderson as he studied the contents of his glass.
“Thank ye?” Ian ran a hand through his hair too. “Ye ladies are causing us to grey before our time. What the devil were ye—”
“Oh, for the love of the saints!” Shauna said. “Ye might as well hear us out before ye continue to curse.” She walked over to the bar area and placed three small glasses on the counter and poured a dram of whisky in each. She gave one to Abigail, another to Mari and sipped her own. “Now will ye listen?”
Whether the sight of all three women drinking uisge beatha without sputtering had halted her brothers’ speech or whether they were simply taking in air, Shauna didn’t know, but she didn’t give them opportunity to go on.
Briefly, she reviewed how the afternoon had gone and what clever steps Abigail and Mari had taken. “So Brice Molyneux confirmed our suspicions. While he dinnae ken exactly where that beast was taking Fiona, he did recall Avery saying he wanted to keep her mind drugged until she was safely locked up and could not escape.”
“In a gaol?” Jamie asked. “Ye need a reason to put a person in prison.”
“Avery made up a reason to put Shane in gaol,” Abigail said.
“’Tis easier to do with a mon,” Ian replied. “What would someone charge Fiona with? Especially in Ireland?”
“May I interrupt?” Captain Henderson asked.
All heads turned to him and Ian nodded.
“Did you not say Walter Avery escaped from Bedlam?”
“Yes, why?”
“Well, while he was confined there, he may have gotten the idea to abduct your sister and commit her to an asylum.” Robert paused. “Avery did tell me Fiona was despondent. If she was given enough laudanum, it wouldn’t be difficult to commit her, especially if a generous amount of money accompanied the request.”
Shauna’s blood chilled. “Fiona could be locked in a place for lunatics?”
Ian exchanged a look with Jamie. “That could account for why we have nae gotten a ransom note.”
“Aye,” Jamie added grimly. “The mon wants to destroy her soul instead.”
“He can never do that,” Shauna said. “Fiona is strong willed. She will nae succumb to such.” A candle flickered, its light dimming, and Shauna hoped it wasn’t a portent of all hope diminishing as well. She looked from one to the other of the now-silent men. All three wore expressions of dread. “Could she?”
“The sooner we find her the better,” Captain Henderson said quietly.
Shauna looked at the sputtering candle—all hope for Fiona was rapidly dwindling like the candle’s light if she were in an asylum. “God speed.”
“Aye,” Ian said, heading for the door. “We sail now.”
Jamie opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a belt holding five sharply honed knives. He added two more to his boots and then went for his claymore that hung from a peg behind the library’s door. Strapping it across his back, he looked darkly lethal, his voice deadly calm when he spoke.
“We will find her,” he said, “and we will bring her back.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kier never had liked the sound of the gate grinding to a close and locking behind him when he entered the small courtyard that led to the asylum. The dull-grey stone of the outside of the building did little to suggest quality of care inside and the barren foyer and long, dark corridor was even less welcoming. The office Kier waited in to see Warden Kelly was not inviting either.
The whole thing reeked of a prison, not a care facility. Even the hospitals, where a man had a fifty-fifty chance of healing or dying of infection, were better. The door at the end of the corridor must have opened, for he suddenly heard curses, shouts and then screams as the lashing of whips echoed down the long hall. The place was revolting. How could anyone commit a relative to a life here?
He assumed a passive expression as the warden opened the door to the office and came in. Warden Kelly and he were not on the best of terms since their philosophies for treatment were diabolically opposed. Kier stood out of courtesy, not wanting to offend the man today. He needed information about Fiona.
“Have a seat,” Kelly said and took his own behind his desk. “To what do I owe this rare visit?”
“I would like a little more background information on one of my guests, Mrs. Fiona MacLeod.”
Kelly raised an eyebrow. “She is quite the looker, isn’t she?”
Kier managed to smile pleasantly. “Her looks do not concern me. I am inquiring about her background.”
The warden looked skeptical, but he opened a file cabinet next to his desk and took out a folder. “Not much here you don’t already know. She’s from Carlisle, married and widowed within a week, which affected her mind so she cannot think clearly.”
“Her thought process seems clear to me,” Kier said, pushing aside images of Fiona in the garden, seeming to talk to air.
“Some of the lunatics are quite clever,” Kelly replied. “They tell you what you want to hear.”
Kier shook his head. “She does not act like the other women.”
The warden smiled slightly. “With all due respect, you are not a physician, simply a host for the overflow we have from the women’s ward.”
“I have been able to observe her behavior though.”
“So did her father.” Kelly glanced at his notes again. “According to him, she was not able to accept her husband’s death, did not want to take off her wedding gown and tried to kill herself. I daresay you are not an expert in the field of abnormal behavior.”
Kier felt his face set. “My mother killed herself, sir. I observed the signs of her decline into melancholy. In hindsight, there were other symptoms I should have caught as well, but I failed to do so. My point is, I see none of those traits in Mrs. MacLeod.”
“Perhaps she is getting better then.” The warden closed the file. “However, her father has entrusted us to her care, so she will remain your…guest. If your conscience bothers you, I can have her moved to the main building. One of our elderly inmates died recently so there is a bed available.”
“No.” Kier forced his voice to remain calm. By Saint Patrick, he would never allow Fiona to be brought here, not even for evaluation—which was pretty much another word for persuasive torture. “No. The reason I came today was to ask to meet Walter Avery. I have some questions for him.”
“You will have to put them in a letter. Mr. Avery is in France.”
“When will he return?”
The warden shrugged. “I don’t know. He travels a lot, which is why he left his daughter with us. He did not want her to try to harm herself again while he was away.”
If what Fiona said was true, the man cared not one wit for her well-being and might well be an imposter. “What do you know of him?” Kier asked.
“What is there to know? He seems to be a successful businessman.” The warden tapped the folder. “I received a cheque from him three weeks ago to cover several months’ care for Mrs. MacLeod.”
The money was probably the only thing the warden cared about. “From where was it posted?”
“General delivery, Le Havre. If you want to send a letter, that is the address he gave me to use.”
Kier nodded and rose to take his leave. Obviously, he was not going to learn anything more from the warden. However, Le Harve was the port that Gerard Fontaine used for his import/export business. Perhaps his contact there could find out something about Walter Avery.
Kier would make a point to ask the next time he saw Fontaine.
Fiona placed the book Kier had lent her on the table at lunch the next day. Kier raised an eyebrow in question.
“Did you finish reading it already?”
“Yes, I really enjoyed it.”
Fiona ignored her. “I should like to borrow another book—”
“When a lady asks ye a question, ye are to answer!”
Before Fiona could give her an obvious retort, Kier interrupted. “That is enough.”
Kathleen narrowed her eyes. “Why are ye always protecting the whore? Oh, forget I asked. I just answered my own question.”
“You are excused.” Kier nodded toward Ada who grabbed Kathleen’s arm and pulled her up.
“I have not finished my lunch!”
“Ye have now,” Ada said. “Seamus will take ye to your room. There will be no exercise for ye this afternoon either.”
Kathleen glared at Fiona as Seamus took hold of Kathleen’s arm. Lona started to laugh as they left and Dulcee looked bewildered. Fiona sighed.
“I did not mean to cause trouble.”
“You did not. Kathleen needs to control her speech.” Kier put down his spoon. “Of course you may borrow another book.”
“Could I help Lona and Dulcee find something as well?” As much as Fiona would have liked to be alone with Kier and chance another kiss, she really didn’t want anyone, especially Ada, thinking he was favoring her. And—she felt a twinge of conscience—she wanted to have another look at the city map.
Kier looked dubious. No doubt he was remembering the catastrophe that happened the last time they’d gone to the library. “I never did get to tell Dulcee about the archangels,” Fiona added quickly, “and maybe Lona would like to see pictures of them.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to look at the devil-man again,” Lona said emphatically.
Dulcee turned shining eyes toward Fiona. “I want to see angels.”
Ada snorted. “Lunatics.”
A muscle in Kier’s jaw twitched and he stood. “Do not use that word in my presence again. My guests are welcome to look at books.”
Ada set her mouth in a tight line, but she remained silent as she followed them to the library. Fiona gave the table a quick glance as they entered, glad to see the maps were still spread out. She’d have to work her way over there somehow. First though, she needed to find a book that wouldn’t send Lona into hysterics.
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