****
'Alexander? What are you doing here? Lucinda— have you seen her?'
He crushed her in his arms for a second and then picked her up and placed her on the ladder. 'Our daughter is fine, no time to talk, get down the ladder as fast as you can. Leave things to me. I shall send Simpson next. Go to Mrs Watkins' cottage and wait for me there.'
'Take care, my darling, I could not bear to lose you now.'
Descending the wooden ladder in her slippers and nightgown was decidedly difficult, but when your life was at stake you managed somehow. No sooner was she off the bottom than someone else was following her. To her astonishment two more windows were flung open and the next thing she saw were women jumping from the other balcony to land in stretched out blankets.
Peggy arrived at her side breathless and red-faced, but smiling. 'What a lark! I've never seen the like. I hope me milk don't dry up because of it.'
'Go to Mrs Watkins' home right away, she's expecting you. Do you know the way?'
'I do that, it ain't far and there's a fine big moon to show me the path.'
By now there were a dozen men and women milling about on the terrace getting in everybody's way. 'Inside staff— listen to me. You must go immediately to the coach house. It's warm and dry in there. Get a fire going and put water on to boil. I'm sure the stable hands have the makings for tea, you must share cups as there won't be enough for everyone.'
Two of the outside men offered to lead those rescued away from the fire. Isobel knew she should go with them. But she wanted to be sure everyone got out safely. Very soon there was a constant stream of the rescued heading for the coach house, she greeted each one in turn, congratulating them on their bravery and promising them they would not be dismissed from service because of this.
Heaven knows how they were going to accommodate so many when Newcomb was likely to be razed to the ground. Too soon to fret about that— as long as all were safe, that was all that mattered. Smoke was billowing from the bed chamber and sitting-room above. How many more were waiting to come down?
'Sam, I've not seen Bill, is he still up there?'
'My lady, you should not be out here. Let me take you to Mary where you'll be safe and warm.'
Alexander appeared on the balcony and shouted down to the men below. 'Just a dozen more to come and everyone will be out.'
Four more men scrambled down the ladders, others were jumping into the blankets. Her nails bit into her palms. Why didn't he come too? She counted frantically as the sound of crackling and burning grew. There could not be more than three inside including Bill, Alexander, and one other.
There was a scream and a figure fell from the far window his garments on fire. He landed in a blanket and immediately those who'd caught him rolled him up to douse the flames. Bill and Alexander emerged pursued by the fire. They would be too late. They would be swallowed
up—consumed by the ferocity of the blaze behind them. Her beloved locked his arms and legs around the wooden ladder and slid down safely. By the time he hit the ground the top of the ladder was burning fiercely.
Bill could only use his arms; his injury prevented him from moving as swiftly as he should. His ladder was on fire before he'd descended more than a few rungs. Frantically a group of men ran towards him with a blanket. Too late— he had no choice. He must drop to the flagstones or be incinerated. He plummeted to the ground and she expected to see him die before her eyes.
A collective gasp rippled round the group as, instead of falling flat, somehow he managed to roll himself into a neat ball and land on his shoulders. Because he was curled up the impact sent him tumbling head over heels onto the grass. He was sitting up rubbing his elbows by the time the first man reached him.
She was transfixed. Everyone had got out unscathed. This was a miracle. Then Alexander was beside her, hugging her fiercely, mumbling incoherently into her hair.
'My darling, you could have been killed. I thought I would be too late, that for the second time I should be bereft.'
'How did you come to be here in the middle of the night? I thought you were not to come until tomorrow?'
'I shall explain it all to you later. You should not be here, sweetheart, but I'm glad you are. I still have things to attend to. Can I trust you to join our daughter at the cottage?'
There was no point in arguing. He was lord of the manor— of course he had to ensure all his dependents were accounted for and make sure they were as comfortable as they could be in the circumstances. A sudden crash of thunder jolted them apart; from nowhere a summer storm had drifted in and the heavens opened.
'Take care, my love. I shall do as you bid. I've no wish to stand out here in the pouring rain. Will this put out the flames? Shall anything be saved?'
'God knows! The Almighty has done a wonderful job tonight so I shall leave this in his capable hands as well. Hurry up, you'll be drenched if you stay here any longer.'
She stretched out and pulled his head down to kiss him. His lips tasted of smoke. 'I love you, Alexander, come back to me soon. I think I see Mr Hill and Mr Reynolds heading this way. Can you not leave everything to them?'
In answer he pushed her gently in the direction of Mary's house. 'Hurry, take your dogs with you for company.' He beckoned to a lad holding two lanterns. 'Here, boy, go with her grace, then come back and tell me all is well.'
Fortunately it was a short distance to her destination and much of it under a canopy of leaves. 'I am safely arrived, young man. See, Mrs Watkins is waiting for me in the doorway. You can return to your duties in the stables. The horses will be unsettled by the smoke and the smell of the fire.'
He grinned and bowed awkwardly, the lanterns bobbing furiously on the end of their poles. Isobel hurried down the path eager to see her baby. She reached the cottage and realised Mary wasn't smiling. As she stepped into the cottage the door was slammed behind her. She could hear her dogs snarling and barking, flinging themselves at the wood in a frantic effort to get in.
****
'Hill, Reynolds, Watkins, come with me. There's unfinished business to attend to. Bentley is behind this fire and he was also responsible for that girl's death and the incident with the rifleman in the woods.' The three men nodded obviously unsurprised by his revelation. 'On both occasions it was my wife who was the intended victim. He’s embroiled with that bastard Farnham – without his manipulation I doubt any of this would have happened.’'
'I had my doubts about Bentley from the start, there was something behind his eyes that made me think he wasn't the simpleton he wished us to believe.'
‘Farnham has convinced himself he can blackmail my fortune from Bentley when he inherits. God knows what maggot has got into his brain.’’
Reynolds chimed in. 'You're right, Sam, when little Sally slipped I thought it was a rum do, but kept my opinions to myself.'
Alexander glared at Reynolds. 'Why the hell didn't you speak up? A bit too late to be telling me now, don't you think?' He swallowed his ire, they had all been fooled, now was not the time for wringing hands. 'Have any of you got a pistol?' They all shook their heads. 'I've two, I'll keep one. Any of you a marksman?'
Watkins held out his hand. 'I am, sir. Do you have sufficient powder and shot for both of us?'
When both guns were loaded and primed Alexander explained his plan. 'I doubt Farnham has hung about to see the results of his machinations. Bentley will be cowering in the east wing waiting to see if his latest attempt to remove the obstacle in his way has succeeded.' He stared hard at each one in turn before continuing. 'I don't intend him to survive this encounter.' Again all three responded in unison; this time they nodded. ‘If Farnham is with him, I shall kill him too.’
He was turning to go towards the east wing when he heard dogs barking in the distance. He froze. Once again he had been outsmarted - his quarry was in the cottage and he had just sent Isobel there. 'They are in your cottage, Watkins, we're too slow.'
His heart was pounding as he raced across the park,
he prayed Bentley had not completely lost his senses, would realise murdering Isobel in cold blood would gain him nothing.
****
'Come in, my lady, as you can see I am expecting you.'
Isobel's eyes widened, the monster was standing beside Lucinda one hand resting perilously close to her mouth. 'Mr Bentley, if you give me my baby and leave immediately, I promise no further action shall be taken against you for tonight's fire.'
His laugh was shrill, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She was dealing with a madman. 'And shall my dear Cousin Alexander feel the same? I've already murdered once, my life is forfeit whatever your avowals. When your husband arrives he won't to be so merciful.'
'I beg you, don't harm my child. Kill me if you must, but let Lucinda go.'
The dogs continued to hurl themselves at the front door. Would Alexander hear them and come here? Then she saw the madman held a pistol in his other hand. The world stood still, it wasn't her baby or herself he intended to kill, it was Alexander. With him dead this lunatic would be the Duke of Rochester and there would be nothing anyone could do about it.
If justice took its course and Bentley was hanged then the title would be in abeyance, the good name of the family forever tainted. She would not let this happen. When Alexander burst in she would throw herself in the path of the shot, she would willingly die to save the man she loved and keep his heritage intact.
'Where are Nanny Cooper, Peggy and the maids?'
Mary answered. 'He's locked them in the bedroom, my lady.'
'Be silent, unless you wish me to finish off this brat right now.'
****
Alexander wanted the two dogs to continue to bark, if they stopped it would warn Bentley he was close. 'Watkins, we must approach from the rear. You know those animals, what can you do to make them continue to attack the front door and distract that bastard?'
'They have a fine hatred of felines, sir, if we put a yard cat on the roof that'll keep them going.'
'Do that. Hill you assist Reynolds with this; Watkins you come with me. Is it possible to affect an entry through the kitchen without being heard?'
'I reckon if I go in by the coal cellar and you through the scullery window one of us will get him before he can harm anyone inside.'
They approached stealthily. The cat secreted under Reynold's jacket seemed unperturbed by this unusual mode of transport. He watched his estate manager scramble up a convenient wall and push the unfortunate animal onto the roof. The yowl it made attracted the dogs. Suddenly they were howling and barking in their frustration. Excellent, anyone inside would believe they were approaching from the front.
He gestured to Hill and Reynolds to go to the front door and knock and demand entry, with luck that would concentrate Bentley's attention whilst he approached from behind him. The scullery window was a tight fit but somehow he wriggled through and slid to the tiles below. Thank God there'd been nothing beneath his feet to clatter to the ground and warn of his arrival.
He pulled off his boots, then crept forward listening for a clue that might tell him where Bentley was standing. He would get one shot, he must be certain he did not miss, the lives of his family might well depend on it.
He heard Bentley talking. He almost surged forward, forgetting to be cautious, when he heard what was spoken.
'Firstly I shall kill your husband and then I shall smother your baby. I'll do both things before your very eyes. After that I care not what happens to me, I shall be the Duke of Rochester until they hang me.'
****
The dogs were at the back of the property, but someone was running up the path. She must warn Alexander. She saw Bentley’s hand move to cover Lucinda's face and closed her mouth, she was in agony— she could not save her baby and her husband. How could she make such a dreadful choice?
Bentley raised his pistol and she gathered herself to make the ultimate sacrifice. How long would it be before Alexander realised the door was unlocked and burst in? A slight movement behind the monster drew her gaze. There was the hideous sound of a pistol shot and Bentley pitched forward, shot through the head. It was over. They were all safe.
Ignoring the body on the floor, she flung herself at Alexander. 'He was going to kill you and Lucinda, I thought … oh, my love, I can't believe we have all survived this night.'
He tossed his spent weapon aside and embraced her. 'Isobel, my darling, I never want to go through that again. If I lost you or Lucinda I could not go on living.'
The infant, terrified by the retort was screaming. Isobel turned to scoop her up. 'Hush, little one, your mama and papa are here now to take care of you.' Lucinda snuggled in between them and was comforted by their closeness.
Isobel scarcely noticed the body being removed, or Mary picking up the soiled mat, she was safe in the arms of the man she loved. 'What are we going to do, Alexander? Where are we going to live? What about the staff?'
He smoothed back her hair and kissed her tenderly. 'I've a dozen other properties. Tomorrow you shall decide where you wish to live. Then half the staff can remove there and prepare it for us and the rest can go to Grosvenor Square. They might as well be idle in London as anywhere else.'
Leaning back in his arms she stared at him. Could this be the arrogant, autocratic Duke of Rochester speaking so casually about the destruction of his family seat? 'Newcomb has been destroyed, does that not bother you at all?'
His arms tightened. 'Why should it? I've everything I want right here.'
The Duke's Reform Page 24
