A Stranger in Honeyfield

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘What I need most at the moment is to use the lavatory. I can’t hold it much longer. Do you want me to pee all over you?’

  He shuddered. ‘Give me your word you’re not making this up in an attempt to escape.’

  ‘I swear I’m not.’ In spite of her determination not to appear weak, a sob escaped her. ‘Please, Spencer. That horrible man wouldn’t let me relieve myself. It’s been hours.’

  ‘All right. Stop the car somewhere so my sister can relieve herself without anyone gaping at her. I’ll just untie her.’

  When they stopped, he refused to let Francis help her do this. ‘Not till you’re married to her, old chap.’

  ‘Do you think you can force me to marry him?’ she asked in a low voice as Spencer was watching her put her clothes straight and another man was nearby guarding them.

  ‘Yes. Or at least he can force you. You might get hurt a little in the process but he’s intending to teach you to obey him, not to maim you.’

  ‘And you’re going to let him hurt me?’

  ‘Yes. I get some of your money after you’re married, you see.’ He took her back to the car.

  ‘I hope you rot in hell!’ she told him as he stood back to let her get in. This time they let her sit between them.

  It seemed a long time till they reached their destination and Georgie felt sick with apprehension when she was dragged out of the car. Francis grabbed her hair and twisted her head back to say, ‘If you make one sound as we’re going into the house, I’ll knock you out.’

  That was the second time someone had threatened that, but he looked as if he’d enjoy doing it. She was more afraid of him than she’d expected. He had a mad look in his eyes she’d never seen before.

  He frogmarched her into the house, bumping her against a couple of doorposts on the way in on purpose.

  It hurt. But it also told her that he’d treat her like that for the rest of her life if she agreed to marry him. She had to stay strong and refuse.

  Surely someone would come looking for her? And find her in time to stop him hurting her badly?’

  Chapter Eighteen

  When they explained to Gerald what his wife was threatening to do, Isabella understood suddenly why every member of his family was afraid of him. He didn’t display any signs of temper and she couldn’t work out why he suddenly looked so menacing, but she was relieved she wasn’t the one in his black books. How did he manage that?

  ‘What time is your wedding tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Seven-thirty in the morning. It was the only time they could fit us in.’

  ‘Good heavens! Well, I hope I’m invited? Apart from the fact that I’d like to attend, it’ll look better if I’m there, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, of course you’re invited,’ Mrs Tesworth said at once. ‘If you can get up at such an uncivilised hour. I can’t remember the last time I left the house by seven o’clock.’

  ‘I’m usually up and working by eight o’clock, so it won’t be much different for me.’

  ‘Well, you must come back here afterwards for a glass of champagne to celebrate.’

  ‘Not this time, I’m afraid. Given the urgency of the situation, I think we’d do better to go straight to Malmesbury and confront my wife and Spencer. After this, I intend to stop the two of them making a laughing stock of our family name, once and for all. She’s avoided scandal till now, but this is going too far. Strange that Spencer’s involved. I thought I’d removed any reason for him to commit a crime for money. I don’t often misjudge people.’

  ‘Perhaps he thought you wouldn’t find out,’ his hostess said.

  ‘He should know me better.’

  They heard the phone ring in the hall just then and the butler came in. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs Tesworth, but the caller asked me to tell you that it’s a Greyladies matter and ask if you could spare her a few minutes?’

  ‘Would you excuse me, please?’ But she was walking out of the room even as she spoke and didn’t wait for their answers.

  ‘Isn’t it the Greyladies Trust that runs Honeyfield House in our village?’ Isabella looked uncertainly at Mr Cotterell.

  ‘Yes. I gather Mrs Tesworth is involved, though she keeps that to herself.’

  ‘I admire her for that.’

  ‘Yes. I too appreciate the good work done by the trust and those who’re involved,’ he said quietly. ‘But I don’t know the details of any specific houses they run. Honeyfield House, eh?’

  ‘It’s supposed to be a convalescent home, but it’s actually a place where women in trouble can find a safe refuge. Everyone in the village knows about it, but they don’t usually say anything to strangers.’

  ‘Ah. As I said, I admire the work done by the trust. And I do not approve of physical violence on principle. There are usually more efficient ways of dealing with problems.’

  Mrs Tesworth came back looking anxious. ‘It’s fortuitous that you’re here tonight, Mr Cotterell. I’m afraid your daughter Georgie was kidnapped from Honeyfield House late this afternoon. No one is certain who did it or where she was taken. All they’ve found so far are traces that she’d been kept in an old deserted house for a while, and a car was seen to drive away from the village after dark but no one could give any details about it.’

  The frightening look came back on to his face and his voice sounded like ice fracturing. ‘Francis Filmore is behind this, I have no doubt. After your wedding, we’ll go straight to his house and rescue her. In the meantime, I’ll arrange for someone local to go to keep watch on Filmore’s house and keep an eye on things to make sure they don’t hurt her.’

  ‘You’re that certain it’s him?’ Tez asked in amazement.

  ‘It’s my business to know things, and that includes what my family’s doing. He’s been a friend of my elder son for years, so I’ve kept an eye on him for years. Both Spencer and Filmore have surprised me today. They’ll both regret it.’

  He stood up. ‘I’m afraid I have to go and make the arrangements. Don’t attempt to intervene. Leave the rescue and other details to me.’

  When he’d gone, Isabella blew out her breath in a whoosh. ‘He’s – well, rather intimidating, don’t you find?’

  ‘My dear, everyone is afraid of upsetting him,’ Mrs Tesworth said. ‘I’m just glad he’s on our side in the war. He’s apparently made a big contribution to our side’s struggle.’

  ‘He’s terrifying when he gets that look on his face,’ Tez agreed. ‘I’m glad he’s not my father. Thank you very much for that, Mother.’

  Mrs Tesworth managed a smile. ‘I’d not like to have married him. Your father was much easier to manage. But at the moment we do need a terrifying person like Mr Cotterell to help us.’

  She looked at Isabella. ‘You look exhausted, dear, but do let Lacey give you a fitting for your wedding gown before you go to bed. I’ll send a maid to wake you at six o’clock tomorrow morning. Make sure your things are all packed before we leave for the wedding.’

  To Georgie’s relief, Spencer wouldn’t let Francis start to deal with her that night.

  The two men went into the next room and she heard them arguing. When Spencer came back, he was on his own. He said grimly, ‘You’d better sleep in my room, Georgina. You’ll be safe there. I hadn’t realised he was quite so, well, vicious. But then, he considers me his best friend so I’d not have seen that side of him as clearly before.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He shrugged. ‘Got to draw the line somewhere. I don’t approve of rape, especially where my sister is concerned. I wish I hadn’t got involved in all this.’

  Spencer was looking dreadful, yellowish and haggard, but she didn’t comment on that, just did as he told her without arguing because he was her only hope of safety tonight.

  They passed Francis in the hall and he glared at her. ‘You’re too soft, Cotterell. Now would have been the perfect time.’

  She held her breath.

  ‘She’s my sister. There is a limit to what I’l
l allow, even tomorrow.’

  ‘Not if you want the money.’

  ‘Even so.’

  When they went into the shabby bedroom, Spencer said abruptly, ‘Don’t get undressed. It’ll be safer.’

  ‘I don’t have any night clothes with me anyway. Are you all right, Spencer? You don’t look well. Is there anything I can get you?’

  He shrugged. ‘A new body. I overestimated my strength tonight. I’m better if I lead a quiet life but I get bored with it.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re not well.’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘I believe you actually are.’

  ‘Well, you are my brother.’

  ‘Our relationship is not quite as simple as you think.’

  ‘What do you mean by that? I don’t understand.’

  He refused to tell her any more, just said she should go to bed. She accepted the quilt and pillow he took from the bed and tossed at her, nestling down as best she could on a lumpy old chaise longue near the window.

  He locked the door and waggled the key at her. ‘I’ll take this. It’d be no use you trying to get out without Francis hearing, but we don’t want to give him any excuse to get hold of you tonight, do we? I’ll think what’s best to do in the morning, when I’m not as tired.’

  He took the key into bed with him and she supposed he’d put it under his pillow. Surely the locked door would keep Francis out? Surely even he wouldn’t knock the door down?

  She’d expected to lie awake worrying but when the warmth of the quilt made her feel drowsy, she didn’t try to stop herself falling asleep. She would need to be very alert in the morning. Anyway, she’d soon wake up if there were any noises in the now-quiet house.

  Tez and Isabella’s wedding was a perfunctory affair. They were the first couple getting married that day and the Church of England minister officiating yawned several times. He scowled at Mrs Tesworth, whom he seemed to know, but he hardly even glanced at the people he was marrying.

  ‘I now declare you man and wife,’ he ended up. ‘You’ll have to sign the register before you leave.’

  ‘And we’ll need a marriage certificate, John,’ Mrs Tesworth said sweetly.

  ‘I’ll send one round to you when I have time, Marguerite.’

  ‘We’re not leaving today till we have it.’

  He looked at Isabella’s belly then shrugged. ‘I suppose you want to flaunt the marriage in people’s faces.’

  ‘If we have to.’

  He pulled out his watch. ‘Oh, very well. At least this farce will be over and done with completely then. I do not approve of these rushed marriages. Now, let’s hurry. I have another wedding to conduct at eight o’clock.’

  Isabella felt sad that her wedding should be such a rushed affair, but Tez put his arm round her and whispered, ‘When everything’s sorted out, we’ll have a glass of champagne together and a little celebration of our own. I’m delighted to be married to you, however we’ve had to do it.’

  His words brought comfort to her as they were rushed through the rest of the formalities and then shown outside.

  Mr Cotterell, who had shared with Mrs Tesworth the task of witnessing the union, instructed Tez to follow his car to Gloucestershire once they’d dropped his mother at home.

  ‘You get off straight away. I can easily get a taxi back,’ Mrs Tesworth said at once. ‘I have engagements I must go to this morning, so I’ll leave the rescue mission to you. Do let me know what happens, Tez darling, and welcome to the family, Isabella.’

  And she was gone, strolling along the street, stopping to stare in a shop window, even though the shops weren’t open yet. As they drove past her, they saw her hail a taxi.

  ‘Nothing ever puts my mother in a flap,’ Tez said. ‘Or Philip’s father, it would seem.’

  ‘Did you notice those two men waiting for him in the car? They looked rather grim and fierce, I thought.’

  ‘He needs a bodyguard sometimes, apparently.’

  ‘What does he do exactly?’

  ‘People say he gathers information for the War Office and the government, and analyses it. He apparently has an amazing memory for detail. But no one knows any more than that. He runs a special, secret unit with an office somewhere in the City, I think. Not sure where. I’ve never had anything much to do with him.’

  ‘Nor had Philip. I wonder why.’

  ‘Who knows?’

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, then he said, ‘It’s nice that we’re together for this drive, isn’t it, instead of having to make polite conversation in front of someone else? I hope we can talk frankly, now and always.’

  ‘Yes, it is nice and I hope so too. So I’ll start by saying how much I like you, Tez.’

  He grinned at her. ‘That’s an excellent start but I’m aiming for more than that before we’re through. I can wait to consummate our marriage till after the baby’s born, you know. It won’t be easy, but for you I’d do anything.’

  ‘I’m not a naive girl and I don’t see why you should have to wait.’

  ‘Well, isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I want to be sure it isn’t going to upset you to, er, consummate the marriage.’

  ‘My mother thinks women can’t enjoy making love, but I certainly did and so did Philip. He didn’t have to coax me to do it. I wanted to.’

  Tez’s smile grew broader. ‘That is going to make things a lot easier, I must admit. Thank you for not pretending.’

  She was feeling less and less awkward. There was something about knowing you were married that brought you even closer together. ‘Well, how did you think I got pregnant, Tez? We were overenthusiastic.’

  He chuckled. ‘Some women claim they were only doing it because their men were going off to fight. Come to think of it, I’m more used to women who pretend about how they feel in all sorts of ways and who do need coaxing with presents and little treats.’

  ‘I don’t pretend about anything if I can help it.’

  When he reached out to squeeze her hand, she grasped his for a moment and it seemed like a promise they were making to one another, one that was much more important than the brief ceremony they had just gone through.

  But they could do nothing about their life together till after they’d rescued Philip’s sister. That at least they could do for the man they’d both cared deeply about. ‘I hope Georgie is all right.’

  He spoke grimly now. ‘So do I. Heaven help Francis Filmore if she isn’t. Her father will make very sure he regrets it.’

  When Georgie woke up the next morning, the room was light and it seemed quite late. Unfortunately there was no clock in the room and she didn’t want to disturb Spencer by going to look at his pocket watch, which was right next to where his head lay on the pillow.

  Someone was stirring in the house but the noises she heard were only faint, as if people were trying to be quiet. Clearly, from the brightness of the sun, it was not a household that rose early.

  When she looked across at the bed, Spencer seemed scarcely to have moved since he’d got into it last night, so she lay still for a while. The longer she could wait to get up, the better. The people at Honeyfield House knew about Francis, and so did her friends.

  Then she couldn’t wait any longer, simply had to use the chamber pot. She could see it under the bed and thought it’d wake her brother up when she fished it out, but she managed to slide it out quietly and he still didn’t stir. Good, she could do this in private. Well, she could if the door was still locked.

  She went to try it and the handle wouldn’t turn, thank goodness, so no one had unlocked it from the other side. She turned to look at the bedside table but the key was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Spencer had shoved it under his pillow.

  Not knowing what to do with the chamber pot afterwards, she pushed it back under the bed, grimacing in disgust, and tiptoed across to look out of the window. Perhaps she could get it open and climb down a drainpipe or something.

  But no! T
hey were at the back of the house, there was no drainpipe within reach and the land sloped downwards so they were higher above it than at the front. What’s more, there was a basement below them, with a small yard in front of it.

  That made for such a long drop to the ground, she was sure she’d break a leg if she jumped out. She couldn’t make a rope of sheets, as you read about heroines in books doing, because the only sheets were wrapped round her brother.

  So she went back to staring out of the window. There were large trees at the bottom end of a long, thin garden, and beyond them the backs of some small businesses. Not an elegant neighbourhood, then.

  She was ravenously hungry by now, but Spencer was still sleeping. She tried to tidy her clothes, but they were too badly rumpled to do much and her hair was its usual wild morning tangle. She looked round the room, but there was no sign of a brush or comb, no sign of Spencer’s overnight bag, either. Surely he’d brought one?

  Time passed slowly and she wished she had something to do, something to read. The figure in the bed was so still, she wondered if Spencer had taken a sleeping powder last night. He sometimes did, she knew.

  What was going to happen to her? She couldn’t help worrying about what Francis was planning to do to persuade her to marry him. She tried not to give in to her fears, but it was hard to keep her spirits up, however much of a talking-to she gave herself.

  Eventually the noises in the rest of the house grew louder. They sounded to be coming from below her. Then there were footsteps on the landing outside the bedroom and someone knocked on the door.

  ‘Time to get up now,’ Francis called.

  She watched the door handle turn.

  ‘Why have you locked yourself in? Come on, Spencer! We’ll have breakfast, then do something about your sister.’

  And still her brother didn’t stir. That was strange.

  Francis rattled the door and yelled again, so she crept across to her brother and shook him. He rolled over, his mouth slack, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

  Surely he couldn’t be … she felt for a pulse in his neck and jerked back in shock when she couldn’t find one. And what’s more, his flesh was cool to the touch, too cool for a live human being.