Somehow, knowing his own mind restored him to calm. He returned to Ebury Street, bearing yet another parcel of books, and settled to wait for Polly’s return. It was almost evening before that happened, and bone deep fear had settled into him, for there was no news of any kind.
~~~~~
The room was almost windowless – a narrow slot in the wall, up high, was all that allowed the flow of air, and a tiny amount of light, to penetrate. There was the chair which she had been sitting on before, two dusty chamber pots, and a rough bed against one wall. Nothing more. It had the feel of a place long abandoned, with dust thick upon the floor, and old spiderwebs in the corners.
Anna pushed herself away from the door, and considered her next steps. The door was solid, and she had heard it locked, and it did not move when she managed to tug on it. The lack of a window meant that the door really was her only option for an exit. So, if she was to have any hope of escape, her first need was to somehow get the rope that bound her undone. It wound around her body, with odd knots in a number of places, forcing her arms against her sides, all the way down to her thighs. She could move her hands, but not very far. She could see nothing that she might be able to use to cut the rope, or even abrade it until it wore through.
But she was not one to give up easily, or succumb to a fit of the vapours. Perhaps she could make the rope stretch enough for it to slip, or for her to push it up, and get more movement for her arms. She began to wriggle, pushing her arms out against the rope, testing its give, trying to make it shift against her. Some indeterminate time later, which she took to be hours, by the dimming of the minimal light that came through the slit in the wall, she had made a little progress. The rope was not as tight around her, and she had managed to work it higher, so that she could, partly, move her lower arms.
How simply wriggling about and pushing against something could be such hard work, she did not know, but she felt exhausted. Still, she should use what time she had, before Charteris returned, or another man arrived, for that matter.
Whilst she had been working on the rope, she had been thinking. Was she, perhaps, at the place where they would meet? This was, after all, an ‘old house’ and close to London, for they had not travelled for all that long. And would not a man, presented with a need to hide someone away, use the place he knew to be deserted? It seemed logical – but logic was, perhaps, a risky thing to presume of these men – they seemed past the point where rational logic was applied.
Still, she held to the hope that she had, indeed, been taken to their meeting place. For, if she had, and she did not manage to free herself by the time of the meeting, then she could hopefully rely upon Lord Setford’s men to free her, when they captured the conspirators. There was only one possible flaw to that plan – if the conspirators decided that she was too much of a threat, might they be tempted to simply kill her, to remove the risk completely?
When she had finally managed to move the rope far enough to partially use her arms, albeit still in their forced position by her side, she eased her physical discomfort by inching her skirts up out of the way, and making use of one of the chamber pots. Then, utterly exhausted, the light long gone from the slit in the wall, she allowed herself to collapse onto the dusty bed. If there were unpleasant creatures in the straw ticking of the old mattress, so be it, she could not stand all night, and sitting was awkward – not so much as it had been when her arms could move less, but still uncomfortable.
A little sleep would be good for her – and it was most unlikely that any of the men would appear before well into the following day. She had to trust that, come morning, she would find a way to free herself, or, failing that, that she could convince them to keep her alive until the point when Setford’s men might arrive.
~~~~~
Polly had stayed gossiping with Meg far longer than she had wanted to, simply to make sure that it looked like a completely natural visit between cousins. Early on in the conversation, she had discovered that Meg had, indeed, spent time talking to Lady Farnsworth that morning, but that the conversation had been interrupted by Lord Charteris. Again, Polly encouraged Meg to leave his employ, for Meg’s fear of the man was obvious. But Meg still hesitated.
It seemed that, after some little time talking to Cook as well as Meg, Lady Farnsworth had left the house – going out through the garden and into the lane at the rear, where the gate let out beside the stables. Meg knew no more. Polly had wanted to immediately rush out and ask questions of the stableboys and grooms, but knew that she could not – all must appear ordinary. She had hoped that, perhaps, when she did leave, she could manage to ask a casual question or two, if the stableboys were in sight.
They had not been, for, just as she went to leave, Lord Charteris had arrived, driving himself in a neat little chaise, and had demanded the attention of every stable boy in sight. The man appeared to be in a foul temper about something.
Polly had thought it wiser simply to leave. He was not the sort of man who she wanted to be noticed by. Ever. He reminded her far too much of her deceased previous employer – the man whose child she had borne, unwillingly.
Chapter Twelve
Cecil felt a great sense of relief when Polly finally returned to Ebury Street. He had been, he realised, rather worried about what might happen – the disappearance of one woman made him wonder if others were at risk too. Once Polly had been settled in the parlour, and coffee brought, Cecil asked her to tell him what she had discovered.
“Lord Setford, Lady Farnsworth did go to see Meg. They talked for a while, and then Lord Charteris interrupted them. He was up far earlier than normal, and in a foul temper, Meg said. Quite frightened them he did. But once he’d gone off to wait for them to send his breakfast to him, Lady Farnsworth had a nice chat with Cook in the kitchen, and then, around the middle of the day – so the sort of time when most of the ton get up – she left. She went out through the garden, and into the lane at the back, where it goes out past the stables.”
“Did anyone see where she went then?”
“No, my Lord, or leastways, I didn’t have a chance to find out.”
“Oh?”
“When I was about to leave, thinking as maybe I’d get a chance to ask one of the stableboys what he might have seen, Lord Charteris arrived home, driving himself in a neat little chaise, but he seemed in a temper, and was yelling at everyone in the stable. I though it safest just to leave. Lord Charteris frightens me – I don’t know why Meg hasn’t left his employ – she knows she can come here if she has trouble getting another position, with a better master.”
“I see. Well, I can’t exactly go charging in and interrogating the man’s stableboys and grooms – not yet, anyway. I must hope that my men find some sign of Lady Farnsworth soon. Do you think you could go back there tomorrow Polly, and get Meg to ask the stableboys? If we have not found Lady Farnsworth by then, of course.”
The mere thought that they might not have found her by then was like a knife to his heart. He was a fool. He should have told her, long before now, that the courtship had become real for him. If she had rejected him, then at least he would have known, would have had the chance to tell her of his feelings. Now, he did not know how she felt, and she had no inkling of his affections for her. And, if it came to the worst, might now never know. The thought was intolerable, the idea of a life where he did not see her regularly, where he might not see her at all, was bleak and unbearable.
He would find her. He would not fail – he would not allow himself to fail. What was twenty years of spying and an impressive team of spies worth, if he couldn’t find the woman he loved?
~~~~~
Polly set off the next morning, determined to discover something of use, heartsick that Lady Farnsworth was still missing. She made sure that she said good day to the stableboy who was sweeping the cobbles in front of the stable as she went in the gate. Not long after, she came back out, Meg by her side.
“Jimmy, this is my cousin Polly. We’re hoping that you
can help us.”
“Meg.” The boy looked at them shyly, almost nervous, and Polly wondered why. “What could I help with?”
“Yesterday – the woman who came and visited me – you would have seen her go in and out of this gate, wouldn’t you? A shorter lady, with dark hair, with a bit of grey in it?”
Jimmy shifted nervously on the spot, his sweeping forgotten.
“I… errrr… I saw her go in.”
“And did you see her leave?”
The boy looked about him carefully, as if to make sure that no one else was near, then stepped up close to Meg and Polly. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.
“It’s bin worryin me. His Lordship came in here, yesterday, way too early for him, and told me to harness Dasher up to the chaise, quicksmart, then to take him out in the lane, and wait there. So I did. And after a while, I heard this odd sound, so’s I looked back this way, and he had someone all bundled up. I pretended I hadn’t looked. But he hauled whoever it was to the chaise, and shoved them in.”
Meg and Polly looked at each other, eyes wide and full of fear. Meg spoke as softly as Jimmy had.
“What happened then?”
“He drove off like the devil was after him – near run me down, he did!”
“Which way did he go?”
“From the look of it, the same way he usually goes when he drives himself out – off around the corner, and along the Park, then onto the road that runs out past the estates that back onto the Park.”
“That chaise – it’s the one I saw him arrive back here in, yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes Miss – the one just through there.”
Jimmy gestured in through the open door of the coach house, and Polly studied the carriage – it was plain, black with a little gold scrollwork, and nothing more.
“Thank you, Jimmy. You’ve been a great help.”
“Meg…, Miss Polly – will she be alright? The lady his Lordship took, I mean.”
“I hope so Jimmy, I really do.”
The boy went back to his sweeping as they went back into the house. Meg was quiet, her fingers twisting in her apron. As they stepped into the kitchen, she gave a little nod, as if coming to a decision.
Polly looked at her curiously, waiting for her to speak.
“Polly, you’re right. I am afraid to stay here. Can I come away with you now? I’ve not got much – we could easily carry it between us.”
“Of course you can. I told you there’s always a safe place at Ebury Street. What will you tell the housekeeper?”
“Just that I can’t stay, that I have to go to my family. I’ll not tell her the truth of it – for really, do we even know the truth of it yet?”
“We don’t.”
Meg led her to her little room, and she gathered up Meg’s things into two bundles, whilst Meg went to find the Housekeeper, and give her notice. Half an hour later, they hailed a cab and set off for Ebury Street.
~~~~~
Cecil felt as if he was running in circles – endless loops between Lady Farnsworth’s house, Ebury Street and Bigglesworth’s Books. No messages anywhere, no news of her whereabouts, nothing but increasingly distraught people, all as lost for a solution as he was.
The afternoon’s planned meeting of the conspirators loomed large in his mind – what would he do, if he had not found her by then? He awaited Polly’s return with almost desperate hope – for if she could find some clues, then he might at least be able to act. The thought that Lady Farnsworth had spent the night in who knows what terrible conditions, most likely frightened and alone, ate at him, filled him with guilt. He should have found her by now.
As the sun neared its midday height, he waited anxiously for Polly to return to Ebury Street. When she did, she did not come alone – a nervous girl, who she introduced as Meg, accompanied her.
“Lord Setford, this is my cousin Meg. After what we discovered this morning, she couldn’t stay in that house. So she gave her notice on the spot, and we brought all her possessions.”
The girl dropped onto a seat in the parlour, her eyes wide at the fact that her cousin was so casually talking to a Lord.
“I see – and what is it, that you discovered, which has so profoundly affected Meg?”
Cecil maintained his calm air, but a chill had invaded him – what might they have found?
“Well, like we planned, I got Meg to introduce me to one of the stableboys. Jimmy was really nervous like, but in a way, he was glad we asked. He’d been worried about it, but didn’t know what to do.”
Cecil repressed the urge to scream – he wanted Polly to get to the important bit, now!
“Worried about what?”
“Well, yesterday morning, Lord Charteris came out to the stable, far earlier than he normally would be up. He told Jimmy to harness up a horse to the chaise that he drives himself, and wait in the lane with it. A little later, Jimmy heard a noise, and when he looked, saw Lord Charteris with a bundled-up woman. A woman he then pushed into the chaise, and drove off with.”
Cecil stilled completely.
Where had Charteris taken her?
“Did Jimmy, by any chance, know where he went?”
“Not precisely, but he said that Lord Charteris went ‘from the look of it, the same way he usually goes when he drives himself out – off around the corner, and along the Park, then onto the road that runs out past the estates that back onto the Park’.”
“I see. And do we know what this chaise looks like?”
“Yes, my Lord. I saw it myself, in his coach house there.”
“Then you’d best write down a description of it – I’ll get my men asking questions, to see if anyone saw it yesterday.”
Polly went to get pen and paper, and Cecil considered her words. If he understood Jimmy’s description aright, then the direction that Charteris had gone was the direction in which lay Lord Peterman’s run-down gatekeeper’s cottage – the ‘old house’ designated for the conspirators’ meeting. It made sense – it was a quiet, isolated location, and one that the conspirators thought was safe. That he might have taken her there was both good, and bad. For, if he had taken her there, then they knew where to look, but, if he had taken her there, they could do nothing until later that afternoon, when the meeting was due to occur.
He could not allow himself to rush off now, in search of her, no matter how much he wanted to. He could not waste all of her months of effort, and his, by moving before the conspirators had gathered. But what if harm came to her…?
His thoughts were interrupted when Polly returned, and handed him a carefully written description of the carriage.
He thanked her, and left her to get Meg settled in, whilst he set off to Bigglesworth’s again, to send the description out and set his men to asking questions.
By the time they acted to capture the conspirators, he wanted to at least be fairly sure that Lady Farnsworth had been taken to the ‘old house’. When he went through that door with his men, Lady Farnsworth would be his priority.
Chapter Thirteen
Anna woke slowly, confused for a moment. Then the reality of her situation came rushing back in. Her arms and shoulders were stiff and aching, from having been held in such an unnatural position for so long. Her wrists were chafed and sore from where she had abraded them on the rope while working to loosen it, but she ignored the discomfort. The first challenge was simply to get from lying down to sitting, then standing. Without her hands free to push herself up, it was a struggle – but she managed.
The thin stream of light that the slit in the wall allowed through was bright, and she estimated that it must be near midday – her exhaustion had allowed her to sleep far longer than she had planned to. But the building was silent around her – only the faint trace of birdsong from the nearby trees reached her. Her stomach reminded her how long it was since she had eaten, and her mouth felt dry and tasted dreadful, but she pushed those things aside. There would be time to worry about such things late
r – she hoped.
She needed a better solution than simply continuing with trying to stretch the rope until she could slip it off. But what could she do? Slowly, she considered the room again – studying every object, every wall, even cautiously kneeling and looking under the bed.
A scatter of dried autumn leaves, fallen this month past and blown in through that slit of a window, were all that she found. Nothing useful presented itself. As she pushed herself back to her feet, staggering slightly as she got her balance, her foot caught the second, unused chamber pot, and sent it rolling across the floor to land against the leg of the bed with an odd sound, halfway between a crack and a thump. Anna stood, steadying her balance, and stared at it.
An idea came to her – but could she manage it? She moved forward, until she stood close to where the ancient china chamber pot lay. Peering at it, she studied its surface carefully. There, on one edge of the rim, she saw what she had hoped for.
The shadow line of a crack.
She stood a moment, listening. The silence remained unbroken. There was no one there. Which was perfect.
Being careful to maintain her balance, she lifted one foot, glad that she had chosen to wear sturdy half boots when she had dressed the day before, and kicked hard at the cracked chamber pot. The movement unbalanced her, even with her care, but she staggered about, getting her feet back under her, and managed not to fall. When she looked back at the chamber pot, it was just in time to see the crack spread, accompanied by the sharp sound of china shattering.
Attracting the Spymaster: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 15) Page 9
