by Stella Riley
She smiled. ‘Oh yes. Definitely the pink one.’
* * *
At much the same time, Eden was tying the laces of his coat and putting up with his brother.
‘For God’s sake, Eden – is that the best coat you’ve got?’
Eden glanced down at his forest-green broadcloth sleeve and said, ‘Yes. Why?’
Tobias groaned. ‘It – it’s ordinary.’
‘I like ordinary. But what, in your opinion, should I be wearing?’
‘The fact that you need to ask that question says it all.’
‘Does it?’
‘Yes. You’re not merely trotting over to the Tower or down to Whitehall. It’s your wedding day!’
‘Yes. I had remembered that.’ He took in his brother’s burgundy velvet and extravagant lace collar. ‘But cheer up. You look splendid enough for both of us.’
‘Don’t be so bloody aggravating. When was the last time you visited a tailor?’
Eden smiled to himself and calmly continued fastening his coat.
‘Not much more than a year ago, I think.’
‘A year? Well I hope you’re going to change that before we go to Thorne Ash.’
‘I’ll think about it. In the meantime, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been rather busy.’
‘I appreciate that. But --’
‘Toby. Will you please stop nagging? You’re worse than Mother. Just tell me you’ve got the ring, there’s a good fellow. That’s the only thing I’m interested in right now.’
* * *
At intervals and as unobtrusively as possible, just over forty men and women dressed in their Sunday best made their way into St Michael’s, Cornhill – much to the surprise of the Reverend Dawson. In his experience, weddings which were required faster than the reading of banns permitted were usually clandestine affairs, attended by no more than the two necessary witnesses. Perhaps, he thought, Colonel Maxwell was about to go into battle and wanted the knot tied and his lady secure in case he didn’t come back. Reverend Dawson, who was possessed of a romantic streak, liked that idea.
Arriving with his magnificently-clad brother, the Colonel took his place without ceremony while Nicholas, Major Moulton and Mistress Wilkes all slid into to place amongst the rest.
‘She’s late,’ muttered Toby after a few minutes.
‘She’s entitled to be late,’ replied Eden patiently. And then, with a grin, ‘God, Toby … if you’re this twitchy when it’s me getting married, what are you going to be like when it’s your turn?’
Surrounded by her brother and her entire household staff, Lydia paused in the porch to hand her cloak to Nancy and shake out her skirts. Then, waiting while Henry and the rest of them took their seats, she looked at Aubrey and said just a little unsteadily, ‘Do you think Eden’s as nervous as I am?’
‘No. From what I’ve seen of him, he hasn’t got a nervous bone in his body,’ came the candid but not very tactful reply. And then, ‘Come on. It’s time.’
There were neither music nor flowers and the Reverend even appeared to have skimped on the candles. Nevertheless, forty-odd smiling faces warmed Lydia on her way down the aisle to the place where Eden waited, his eyes alight with that special look he kept only for her.
That look turned slowly into a smile when she laid her hand on his sleeve. And covering it with his own, he murmured, ‘You came. Toby thought you wouldn’t.’
‘But you knew better.’
‘I certainly hoped I did.’
Since he had a surprisingly full house, Reverend Dawson decided to deliver the complete wedding service rather than the truncated version he usually performed on these occasions. He’d wondered what connection this undoubtedly motley congregation had with the bridal pair. Then he became aware that the bride and groom looked only at each other and that the female half of the motley congregation were all shedding tears. It was, he thought, almost enough to quell his worry that any one of the persons here present might inform the authorities that he performed weddings without either licences or banns.
The voice in which Eden spoke his vows resonated deep through Lydia’s being. Her own voice was husky with emotion and her fingers trembled a little in his. She wondered if he understood the all-encompassing strength of her love for him and how, if he didn’t, she could ever show him. Then she realised that they had the rest of their lives … that this day was just the beginning.
Eden hadn’t ever had a woman look at him the way Lydia did; as if he was God, Hercules and Galahad all rolled into one. It filled him with awe, pride and a fierce determination to always be worthy of it. It was that thought which – when the Reverend finally pronounced them man and wife – that caused him to sweep her virtually off her feet and, much to the delight of their friends, kiss her long and hard.
Once outside the church and after a great deal of hand-shaking and back-slapping, Eden invited everyone to join himself and his wife at the Black Dog on Gracious Street where food and drink awaited them. This time no one bothered about being unobtrusive and the procession to the nearby tavern was a merry one.
Holding her close to his side, Eden smiled down at Lydia and said, ‘Happy?’
Her answering smile dazzled him.
‘Yes. Oh yes. But the word is inadequate. I feel as if – as if I’m floating.’
‘Then I’d better make sure you don’t fly away completely, hadn’t I?’
‘I won’t,’ she promised, suddenly serious. ‘Not ever. But I won’t mind you keeping hold of me. In fact, I wish you would.’
‘Minx,’ he whispered, snatching the chance to kiss her ear. ‘We’ve a whole afternoon of celebrating to get through before I can hold you the way I’d like.’
Heat flared through her but she said, ‘I’m told anticipation is half the fun.’
Eden grinned. ‘Whoever told you that must have been very unlucky.’
The Black Dog had opened up both first floor parlours for the accommodation of Colonel Maxwell’s extremely large wedding-party, serving enormous quantities of food in one and equal amounts of ale and wine in the other. At first, everyone tried to maintain their best behaviour – the men from Duck Lane seeming somewhat overawed as much by Mr Tobias Maxwell’s size as by his lace-trimmed elegance. But by the time he’d made them laugh with the kind of disrespectful speech that only a brother could get away with, they all came to the conclusion that looks might be deceptive; and when the Colonel, having said all the right things on behalf of himself and his bride, added a brief but frankly hilarious codicil at Mr Tobias’s expense, the room rang with laughter and all awkwardness fled.
At first, Eden kept Lydia within the circle of his arm while they accepted a flood of good wishes. All the women bashfully demanded a kiss. Smiling, Lydia watched him melt even the most sensible of her women with a salutation to the hand and another to the cheek. The men, of course, insisted on wringing his hand and, as often as not, clouting him merrily on the back for good measure. Buffets from Tobias and Peter almost threatened to overset him. Lydia caught his eye and failed to suppress a giggle.
A little later, when everyone had eaten their fill and with the wine and ale still flowing, Eden left Lydia surrounded by a laughing, chattering group of women who, having learned that there was to be a second wedding in Oxfordshire, were anxious to discuss what Mistress Neville – beg pardon! Mistress Maxwell – thought to wear on that occasion. Moving away from her, Eden discussed the recent Cavalier activity in the West with Nicholas, Ned and a couple of the lorinery fellows; and Major Moulton said the latest news spoke of five thousand Militia to be mustered in the City – possibly linked to a rumour that the Earl of Rochester had been captured but immediately escaped.
Good, thought Eden. Let’s hope his lordship takes himself back to France.
Later still, Eden noticed with some amusement that, after his first startled glance, Henry Padgett was eyeing Alice Wilkes’ abundant attributes with evident appreciation. He also watched Tobias making most of the younger wome
n flutter and blush, prior to settling in a corner with Troopers Buxton and Hayes and saying, ‘And now, gentlemen … tell me exactly what my brother did in the war. He’s very close-mouthed about it – which naturally leads me to suppose that he sat about with his feet up and left the dirty work to you fellows.’
Eden laughed and left them to it. The afternoon was wearing on and he was conscious of an increasing desire to have his wife to himself. The trouble was that the party was still in full swing and no one showed any sign of leaving. Repressing a sigh, he looked around for Lydia. If he couldn’t steal her away just yet, a glimpse of her bright face would have to suffice. Most of the women seemed to have congregated in the other room so he sauntered in to look for her. As soon as he appeared, Lily Carter approached him and said, ‘Colonel, we’re all grateful to you for giving us this day with Miss Lydia. We know you didn’t have to. You could’ve waited to be married with your own family without taking account of us. So we wanted to thank you.’
‘It’s unnecessary,’ he replied easily. ‘The bond of affection between Lydia and all of you runs both ways. Today means as much to her as it does to you … so how could I not want her to have it?’
Rachel Walker and Mary Dawson sighed. Seeing possible embarrassment looming, Eden said quickly, ‘Now … can anyone tell me where I might find my wife?’
They all giggled and Mary said, ‘She went off a bit ago with our Nancy. Said her hair needed fixing and one of the maids told her there was an empty bedchamber along the passage they could use.’
‘Thank you.’ He bowed slightly and moved away in the direction the girl had indicated.
In case Lydia had wanted privacy for more than replacing a few hairpins, he tapped at the door and waited. Then, when there was no reply, he opened it and went in. It was empty.
Frowning a little, Eden walked back to the top of the stairs and narrowly avoided colliding with the inn-keeper.
‘Colonel!’ He ran a distracted hand over his face. ‘You’d better come down. There’s been a – well, I reckon you need to see, sir.’
A sudden chill slid down Eden’s back. Without hesitation, he pushed past the landlord and ran down the stairs. In the shadows at the foot of them and attended by a worried chambermaid, Nancy Dawson sat on the floor clutching her head.
Eden dropped on one knee beside her.
‘Nancy? What happened? Where’s Lydia?’
She drew a shuddering breath and tears began streaming silently down her face.
‘I d-don’t know. We came down because somebody asked for her – only then I was hit over the head and --’
Eden didn’t wait for the rest. Cold with dread, he shot out into the street, his eyes searching in vain for a glimpse of Lydia’s pale pink gown. Then, realising how useless this was, he swung back inside and asked again what had happened.
‘A woman was at the door,’ volunteered the chambermaid. ‘Said she didn’t want to barge in to the party but’d like to give the bride her good wishes – so I went and told your lady. I reckon she must’ve come down but I didn’t see ’cos I was --’
‘How long ago?’ snapped Eden.
‘Dunno. Ten minutes? Maybe a bit more.’
‘You saw this woman?’ And when the girl nodded, ‘Was she alone?’
She shrugged. ‘Far as I know, she was.’
‘Describe her.’
‘There ain’t much to --’
‘Her height, the colour of her hair, the kind of clothes she was wearing. Everything you remember – and quickly!’
‘About as tall as me, I reckon … and blonde. Pretty.’ Her brows drew together in concentration. ‘Didn’t see her clothes but for a dark cloak. But I did notice as she painted her face ’cos I remember thinking --’
Eden nodded, tossed a curt word of thanks over his shoulder and went up the stairs two at a time. He knew fear. He’d met it head on, time and time again in battle. He’d feared for himself and for his men. But he’d never known fear like this; a helpless, frozen terror that drove the air from his lungs and paralysed his brain so that the only thought he had was, I have to find her. I have to find her quickly. But I don’t know where to go.
Cutting across several conversations from the parlour door and trying to keep his voice steady, he said, ‘Toby, Nick, Ned. I need – I need …’ He took a second to swallow the bile rising in his throat, ‘Lydia’s been taken.’
The silence these words produced was immediate and total. But after what felt like an age, Nicholas said, ‘Quinn?’
‘I don’t know. Yes. Probably.’
Behind him, the women were crowding the doorway and he could hear mutters of shock.
‘How long ago?’ demanded Aubrey.
‘Not long. A quarter of an hour --’
‘So why are we still standing here?’ Aubrey started pushing his way towards the door. ‘Let’s go!’
‘Go where?’ asked Tobias impatiently, striding across the room to lay a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘It won’t help Lydia to go rushing off at half-cock.’
‘Very true.’ In an attempt to drag Eden out of what was plainly the bloodiest kind of nightmare, Major Moulton said sharply, ‘Colonel? Your orders, sir.’
Eden shoved his hands through his hair and tried to get command of himself. He felt as if some wild thing was trying to claw its way out of his chest … but knew he had to ignore it. Every second he hesitated was a second wasted.
‘We don’t know where they’ve taken her,’ he said flatly. ‘My first guess would be the brothel. But they used the lorinery before and, since it’s been empty all day, they might have gone there again. Then there’s the Steelyard.’
‘No,’ said the Major. ‘There isn’t. That’s been deserted since we took back the women.’
Eden nodded. ‘Cheapside, then. If Lydia offers them what they want – and I hope to God she does – they’ll have to go there to get it.’ Another brief pause. ‘Also, though least likely, there’s Northcote’s own house on the Strand.’
‘And so?’ This time it was Nicholas who asked.
‘So we hedge our bets. Ned, Toby and I will go directly to the brothel. Nick … you and Aubrey check on Duck Lane, then follow us. We can --’
‘Just a minute, Colonel,’ said Trooper Hayes. ‘You wasn’t thinking the rest of us was going to sit on our arses and leave you to get on with it on your own, was you sir?’
A chorus of approving grunts greeted these words.
‘Aye,’ said Trooper Buxton. ‘Maybe there ain’t one whole man amongst us – but we ain’t completely useless.’
‘Nor us neither,’ called out Jenny Sutton. ‘There’s a good few of us ain’t afraid to fight.’
‘Count on me as well.’ Alice Wilkes started rolling up her sleeves.
‘Peter and I,’ remarked Henry Padgett decorously, ‘will also be happy to help.’
Eden looked around at the grim determination on every face. Then, his voice a little more ragged than usual, he said, ‘I don’t have the right to involve any of you because I can’t guarantee your safety. But just now I need all the help I can get … so I’ll accept your offer and be glad of it. Thank you.’
‘That’s settled then,’ said Dan Hayes. ‘Give us our marching orders and we’re with you.’
Tobias gave a choke of unsteady laughter.
‘Well done, Colonel. You’ve got a bloody army.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
ELEVEN
Lydia sat huddled on a strategically-placed chair in the centre of the large, brilliantly-lit room and faced a man, richly-clad in gold-laced blue satin; the man who had ordered her abduction and who now perched silently on the edge of a Turkey-covered table.
Aside from that table, what little furniture there was stood against the walls; two massive dressers laden with silver-gilt plate; a black lacquered cabinet displaying china and jade; and a set of intricately-carved high-back chairs. And the walls themselves were hung with dozens of paintings; portraits in some master hand … rel
igious scenes … huge canvases in vibrant colours depicting naked nymphs and semi-clad gods and goddesses. Slowly, Lydia realised that everything she could see represented vast sums of money.
Still the man did not speak but merely sat, contemplating her thoughtfully. They hadn’t restrained her this time but then they didn’t need to. The woman who’d acted as decoy had gone but Lydia knew that the fellows who’d brought her here, and probably others as well, were just beyond the closed door – which meant that running wasn’t an option even if she could out-distance the man in front of her. Even if she wasn’t still shaking so badly she didn’t think her legs would support her.
They’d swaddled her in a cloak and bundled her into a carriage almost before she knew what was happening. The woman and one of the men had sat beside her while the other man drove. Neither of them spoke. Neither answered her breathless questions about what they’d done to Nancy or where they were taking her. And with the leather flaps covering the windows, she had no idea of their direction … only that it had been some distance across the City.
She kept her hands tightly clenched in her lap and tried to decide what best to do.
Eden will come. He will. But he won’t know where I am. How long will it take him to find me? The chilling notion that he might not find her lay in wait at the edges of her mind. She did her best not to let it in. It’s up to me, then. I need to give Eden as much time as I can. So I’ll sit here and say nothing. Not one word until I have to. And then I’ll talk myself silly,
The trouble was that the long silence was gradually shredding her already screaming nerves. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand it. She tried comforting herself with the thought that at least she knew what to say. I’ll tell him the story I concocted for the letter and make it as long-winded as possible. It might work. But I wish I’d written the letter. If I had, I might not be here now.
Finally, after another excoriating minute or two, her captor said dispassionately, ‘If you’re waiting for rescue, Mistress, I fear you may be waiting for a long time.’
