The Mysterious Merriana

by Carolynn Carey

  “She doesn’t speak much English,” Antonia explained. “She’s French, you see.”

  “Well, in that case,” Jane said, shrugging. She plopped on the bed with her back to the windows and began to complain of her brother again.

  “I do wish Harold would at least make an attempt to be more like Justin. He’s so bookish, always spouting off about mythology as though anyone were interested in those old Greek and Roman tales in this day and age. And, as I was saying, he would never support a mistress as Justin does. Justin’s mistress was pointed out to me one day in the park, and she is absolutely gorgeous. And her horses and carriage must have cost a thousand pounds between them. Of course, Harold could never attract anyone as lovely as Justin’s mistresses have been, even if he were willing to support them in the manner Justin does.”

  “Eh, what balls did you go to in London?” Antonia asked with a harried glance at Merriana.

  “Are you trying to change the subject?” Jane asked. “Really, Antonia, there’s no need to act ashamed of the fact that your brother is a top-of-the-trees Corinthian who supports his mistresses in style. I’m jealous.”

  Antonia heaved a sigh. “I’m sure people exaggerate,” she said. “People usually do so when talking about my stepbrother. Besides, Justin will settle down someday when he has found the right lady.”

  “Well obviously, but if you think he’ll give up his mistresses when he marries, you’re more naive than I thought. Gentlemen like Justin marry ladies to protect the bloodline but they continue to have mistresses to—”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Antonia said loudly as she jumped to her feet and started for the door. “Come along, Jane. The exercise will do us both good.”

  “But I’m not dressed for a walk,” Jane whined, although she ended up following Antonia out the door.

  Left alone in the room, Merriana tried to analyze her feelings. She was not surprised to learn that Justin had had mistresses. She would have been more surprised to learn that he had not. Nor was the young guest’s views on marriage and mistresses anything Merriana had not heard before. Then, she wondered, why was she suddenly feeling so desolate? It was, of course, because her old fears had returned. She knew just enough to realize that Justin was considered one of the most attractive and eligible men in England and that he could have almost any woman he wished. Why would he want her? Or did he? Was she merely a challenge to his ego because she had refused both his proposition and his proposal? Would he tire of her as soon as she succumbed to his wishes?

  Merriana was not without some common sense, and she realized that her questions were unanswerable for the time being. She tried very hard and very unsuccessfully to think of something else. She tried so hard and became so frustrated with herself for failing that by the time Antonia returned, she had developed a pounding headache.

  “That Jane,” Antonia exclaimed as she stomped into the room. “I thought she would never leave. I had to walk her through the garden four times and pretend to be just beginning my exercise before she got so tired that she decided to go home. Merriana, dear, you look a little peaked. Why don’t we go for a ride? The fresh air will do you good.”

  “Young ladies do not take their maids with them when they go riding, my dear,” Merriana gently reminded her friend.

  “Pooh,” Antonia responded. “I’m sure I don’t see why not. I’ll start a new trend. If you’re concerned about the servants, I’ll tell them that you—”

  “No, Antonia,” Merriana interrupted. “We simply can’t do that. What if we should meet some of your neighbors and they started gossiping about me? The word could spread quickly.”

  “We’ll keep to the back trails on Hilltops property,” Antonia answered, but she seemed somewhat less convinced that her idea was an unexceptional one.

  “Besides,” Merriana continued. “I find myself with the most hideous headache. All I really feel like doing is lying down for a while.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Antonia asked. She began scurrying around and very soon Merriana, despite her insistence that she merely wished to lie down on her cot, found herself tucked up in Antonia’s bed, with a handkerchief soaked in lavender water lying on her brow and the curtains pulled to keep out the light.

  Now,” Antonia exclaimed, at last satisfied with her efforts. “You just lie there and rest, and if you need anything, ring the bell for one of the servants. I’m sure you’ll get more rest without me here, so I’ll go for my ride.”

  “Yes, my dear, you must do so,” murmured Merriana. “And don’t worry about me.”

  As Antonia slipped out of the door, Merriana thought for a moment about calling to her to be sure that she was accompanied by a groom, but then she refrained. Justin would have taken care of that, she was sure, and besides, it was she and not Antonia who was in danger from her uncle Ernest.

  After a few moments in the quiet and darkened room, Merriana’s head began to ease, and a few minutes later, she fell asleep. When she awoke some time later, her headache had completely disappeared, and she began to busy herself opening the curtains and spreading up Antonia’s bed. Then, as she began to feel hungry, she glanced at the clock on Antonia’s mantle and realized it was at least an hour past the time when she had expected Antonia back for lunch.

  A soft knocking on the door drew her attention and she hurried to open it, expecting to find a concerned Antonia checking to see if her headache was better. Instead, one of the underfootmen was standing in the hallway with a disgruntled expression on his face. “Ain’t right,” he muttered, obviously talking to himself. “No, and Miz Chesterson ought not to allow it. French maids gettin’ their own messages and takin’ the rest of us from our duties to deliver them.” He thrust a piece of paper at Merriana, and when she took it from him, he turned and stomped away.

  Puzzled, Merriana looked at the outside of the folded sheet. It was addressed to “Miss Antonia’s French Maid” and was sealed with an untidy blob of sealing wax. “It must be from Tom or Luke,” she murmured as she cracked the seal. “But why would they send a written message to me rather than to Antonia?”

  The single sheet was written in a large and bold hand, and its message dispatched a chill to the very center of Merriana’s soul.

  “Fool,” the note began. “Did you and your friends really think you could outsmart me? How easy it was to follow you. I have your young friend. I do not need to tell you, I hope, that her life depends on your following my instructions exactly. Leave now. Slip out of the house and around to the pathway that leads through the garden toward the fountain. After you pass the fountain, you will see another trail leading off to the right through the woods. Follow it for approximately a half mile. You will find a horse tied to a tree beside the trail. Mount the horse and ride another mile down the trail. When it forks, go right. In another two miles, you will see an abandoned cottage sitting in a small clearing on the left. Ride into the clearing and stop. Do not dismount until instructed to do so. Do not tell anyone where you’re going, and don’t bring anyone with you. Bring this message. If you fail to follow any of these instructions, your friend will die.”

  Merriana read the note through twice before she could convince herself that she was not still asleep and experiencing a terrible nightmare. As the reality of it struck her, she felt as though a fist had been slammed into her stomach. Antonia was in danger because of her.

  The note had said “Leave now,” and Merriana had no thoughts but to follow those instructions to the letter, although she took time to change from her dress to one of Antonia’s riding habits and from her slippers to a pair of boots. She also hurriedly grabbed two long cloaks from Antonia’s wardrobe. The message she stuffed into the pocket of one of the cloaks, along with the small amount of money she found in her and Antonia’s reticules. Then she began trying to find her way out of the house without being seen.

  Merriana had been delighted with the mellowed stone exterior of Justin’s home when she and Antonia arrived in the gig the day befo
re. The original section had been built around the time of Queen Elizabeth and had consisted of the almost mandatory E shape of those days, but later generations had ordered large portions of that structure demolished so that they could add their own wings. The results were, surprisingly, not displeasing to the eye, for there was an unexpected continuity to the whole.

  However, she’d had little opportunity to see the interior of the house. The housekeeper had greeted her arrival with reserve and had almost immediately conducted her straight to Antonia’s bedchamber where she’d pointed out the dressing room where she was to sleep, had given instructions on where the laundry facilities were to be found, and had informed Merriana that she would be taking her meals in the kitchen with the other servants.

  “Oh no, Mrs. Chesterson,” Antonia had exclaimed, startling the housekeeper because that lady had not been aware that Antonia trailed behind her. “Merri—I mean Marie—will take her meals in my chamber.”

  Mrs. Chesterson had not been pleased. Her hazel eyes had snapped and she had squared her shoulders. “On whose orders, Miss?” she had inquired in a tone so regal that Merriana felt a momentary urge to curtsey.

  But Antonia had not been intimidated. “By Justin’s,” she had retorted firmly. “He feels Mer-ah-Marie would be uncomfortable in the kitchen until her English improves.”

  If Antonia had hoped to placate Mrs. Chesterson, she had failed miserably. Mrs. Chesterson’s rigid stance and compressed lips expressed clearly her opinion of a French maid who had already contrived to secure such interest on the part of her male employer. “Very well,” Mrs. Chesterson had said, sniffing as she stalked away, leaving Antonia to try to convince Merriana that their ruse was not going to create unusual problems in the household.

  Now, attempting to slip through the house, Merriana wished that she’d been allowed a bit more freedom to move about in the rambling mansion, for she had no idea which hallway or sets of stairs to take to reach the back gardens unseen. After three false starts and one near miss when she almost walked into an upstairs maid, she finally discovered a stair leading down to a doorway that opened into the gardens. She looked around furtively and was relieved to see that no gardeners were working nearby. Still, fearful that someone would appear, she slipped from shrub to shrub, hiding behind each until she was sure the way was still clear.

  At last the fountain appeared and then the path that Merriana was to take through the woods. At that point, she pulled up her skirts and ran along the trail until her lungs burned with each labored breath and she was forced to slow her steps. But she soon began to run again. Merriana had no faith in her uncle’s patience and feared that, should he believe that she was not going to follow his edict, he would harm Antonia. She gave no thought as to what she would do when she arrived at the clearing. Her only objective was to get there as quickly as possible.

  The horse was waiting for her as the message had promised, and Merriana quickly led the rather swaybacked gelding to a fallen tree, from which she could mount. The rough trail and reluctant horse seemed intent on delaying her, but at last she saw the clearing off to her left. The cottage had obviously been deserted for some time, for the forest had grown almost up to the doorstep, and vines climbed its stone walls in profusion.

  She stopped, as directed, in the clearing and sat there. Long seconds stretched into even longer minutes, and still no one appeared at the cottage door. Only the occasional bird call broke the silence, and Merriana found herself imagining that her uncle had already killed Antonia and gone away. At last she could stand the suspense no longer. “Antonia,” she called. “Are you there? Someone answer me.”

  There was no reply until, at last, Merriana felt she had no choice but to dismount and investigate the interior of that decaying cottage. Then, as she slid from her mount, her uncle’s voice called to her.

  “Impatient chit, aren’t you? Very well. You can come in now.”

  Merriana left the horse, which was already munching on the overgrown grass, and walked slowly to the cottage door. It opened, and as she stepped inside, her relative reached from behind it to grasp her arm. “Are you alone?” His voice was raspy, as though his throat was too tight to allow normal speech.

  “Of course I’m alone,” Merriana responded. “I wouldn’t risk Antonia’s life by bringing someone with me.” She paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the cottage. Details came slowly—a dirt floor, a crudely made table and two chairs, a stone fireplace, aged cobwebs clinging tenaciously in the corners of a grimy window, her relative’s smirking countenance. “Where is Antonia?” she demanded.

  A slight smile touched her uncle’s face as he nodded to a cot that was pushed against a wall in the darkest corner. Merriana ran to it and found Antonia trussed up with heavy rope around her ankles and wrists. A dirty rag was serving as a gag.

  Merriana cried out as Antonia gazed up at her with frightened and tearful eyes. Then she twirled to face her uncle. “There was no need to be cruel to Antonia.” Her voice shook with anger. “But you have achieved your objective, sir. I am here. Now let her go.”

  ”My, my, giving orders so soon, my dear? Yes, of course I shall let her go. But not quite yet. I wouldn’t want her leading rescuers back to this little hideaway, would I? No, she will stay the night with us. The afternoon grows too advanced for us to begin our journey until the morrow. That is, if you have followed my instructions. Did you tell anyone where you were going or leave any messages for anyone?”

  “I did not,” Merriana stated emphatically. “I did just as you instructed me.”

  “I certainly hope you did, my dear, for if anyone attempts to rescue you tonight, neither you nor your friend will live to see the morning.”

  “No one will try,” Merriana replied, clenching her teeth and meeting her uncle’s gaze.

  ”Very well,” he said. “Now, you may remove the little heathen’s gag if you can assure me she’ll hold her tongue. Never have I heard so many blasted threats issue from such a small throat. I was inclined to choke her before I thought to gag her.”

  “I’m sure I can keep her quiet, sir,” Merriana promised as she began untying the gag. “May I also remove the ropes?”

  “No. Count yourself fortunate that I’ll allow you to remove the gag.”

  “The ropes are too tight,” Merriana objected. “At least allow me to loosen them, or do so yourself if you don’t trust me.”

  “Absolutely not. And tell her that if I hear one word from her after you get that gag off, it will go right back on.”

  Merriana carefully removed the dirty fabric from Antonia’s mouth and then gently massaged her face. Tears sprang to Antonia’s eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks, but she didn’t try to speak.

  “May I give her a drink of water?” Merriana asked.

  “Later,” he said shortly. “Right now you can open that package sitting beside the table and lay out the food I’ve brought for us. If you behave, I’ll leave you untied. If you try to escape, your friend will pay for your actions.”

  “I won’t try anything,” Merriana assured him as she turned to pick up the bulky package. Soon she had unwrapped cheese and bread and two bottles of wine along with a few utensils and two cups and placed them on the table.

  “I’ll eat first,” her uncle announced. “You drag a chair over by the cot where I can keep an eye on both of you at once.”

  Merriana was happy to obey. Her greatest desire at the moment was to be able to offer some comfort to Antonia, so she placed her chair next to the cot and reached out to lay her hand on Antonia’s arm.

  “I hurt so, Merriana,” Antonia whispered in a voice raspy from the drying effects of the gag. Tears continued to run in rivulets down her white cheeks. “Ask him again to let you loosen the ropes.”

  Merriana pleaded with her uncle for Antonia’s sake as she would never have done for her own comfort, but the man resolutely shook his head, smiling all the while. “Not yet, my dear. Perhaps later.”

 
“But she is in pain, sir,” Merriana continued, “and just loosening the ropes a bit will not allow her to escape. I’m sure she would promise not even to make the attempt.”

  “And I’m sure I could place great faith in such a promise,” her uncle jeered. “However, I will compromise. I have here a bottle of wine that contains a mild dosage of a drug that will keep her peaceful. If you’ll give her a cup of wine so she’ll sleep, I’ll allow you to untie her.”

  “No,” Merriana said. “I can’t drug her.”

  “Please, Merriana,” Antonia whispered. “You must. My hands and feet are aching so. I’ll take the wine.”

  Merriana’s shoulders slumped. “Very well,” she murmured. “My dear, I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me, you’d be safely at home.”

  “Hush, Merriana.” Antonia tried to smile. “If I’d taken a groom with me when I went riding, both of us would be safely at home. Please get the wine for me.”

  Merriana’s uncle had already uncorked the bottle of wine containing the drug and poured a generous amount into a cup that he handed to Merriana. “See that she drinks every drop,” he instructed her. A tight smile accompanied his words, and a strangely bright glitter flickered in his eyes before he quickly averted his gaze. But Merriana had seen enough to convince her that her uncle’s intentions were deeper than he had ever intended her to know. And whatever those intentions were, Merriana distrusted them—enough, she decided, to risk incurring his displeasure by attempting to circumvent his designs.

  She took the cup and started toward the cot with it but then averted her gaze toward the window behind her uncle. She paused and stared with widened eyes for three or four beats before dropping her gaze. When her uncle twirled to examine the view through the dusty glass, Merriana quickly tilted the cup she held so that a large portion of the wine poured onto the dirt floor. She stepped onto the spill and stood over it, grinding the wine into the dirt with her booted foot under cover of her long skirt.