Caroline and the Captain: A Regency Novella

by Maggi Andersen

  “How did you know he would come there?” she asked wanting to keep him talking.

  “When I worked here I knew his daily habits. He jumped that wall every day, so all I had to do was wait for him in the trees,” Post said in a boastful voice. “It was easy to surprise him. I didn’t intent to kill him with the gun, they’d know it wasn’t an accident. I banked on him stopping to find out where the shot came from. When he came into the trees it was easy. I then dragged him to where you found him. But I didn’t expect you to be riding with him and raise the alarm. I couldn’t get into the house after that. Had to score off to London. And London is hard when the money runs out.”

  He sounded as though it was her fault. “My husband is after you. He and the Bow Street runner will be here any minute. You’d better escape while you can.”

  “Searching London for me, they are. Last I heard. Move.” He shoved her. “I need money.”

  “There isn’t any money.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” His hand came up like lighting and struck her across the cheek.

  Caroline reeled back at the stinging slap, her face burning. “I tell you there isn’t. The bills have just been paid.”

  “We’ll see about that. I bet he got a fortune for them jewels, so there must be.” His hand gripped her arm digging his fingers into her flesh. “Get moving.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nicholas felt his horse falter under him. “Dammit!” He reined the horse in and jumped to the ground.

  “Looks like he’s lost a shoe, milord,” said Holmes.

  He bent down and examined the leg the horse favored. “The shoe’s intact, it’s a stone he’s picked up.” Taking out his knife Nicholas gently levered the stone away. He led the horse by the reins to observe its action. “Looks good to me, milord,” Phillips said. “I think we’re right to go.”

  Nicholas vaulted into the saddle and gingerly eased his mount into a canter. There was no sign of soreness, thank God.

  At full gallop they rode through the quiet village passing small farms and cottages, most of which lay in darkness, and turned toward Debenham Park.

  ♥♥♥

  In anger, she pulled her arm away from Post. “I have no idea where any money is kept. I haven’t been here very long.”

  “You’ll get that money for me, if you know what’s good for you. Or I’ll enjoy another ride with you to soften you up.”

  Caroline quaked her mind spinning. She needed more time. “I might be able to open the safe in the study downstairs.”

  “Good girl. Let’s go down, shall we?” He gave her a push, the hard edge of the pistol digging into her back.

  “Let me put on my dressing gown. I’m cold.”

  “I’ll warm you up good and proper. After you get me the money.”

  “And then you’ll murder me.” She fought to modulate her voice, but it quavered, annoyingly high pitched with fear.

  “Not if you’re nice to me. I might take you along. We can have fun together with all that coin.”

  He was delusional. Could she use that against him? Caroline grabbed her dressing gown and shrugged into it, wishing she could stop her teeth chattering.

  Years ago when he’d forced himself on her, she’d been a green girl. Now she was older and shrewder, and had a chance to get the better of him. She led him to the stairs hoping to push him down, but he shoved her ahead of him.

  It was dark in the corridors where the candles had burned away in the wall sconces. She fumbled her way to the study mostly by memory with him breathing heavily behind her. “I need to light a candle,” she said. “There’s a candelabra with a flint and tapers on the table by the window.”

  Post dragged the curtains open and the moonlight stole in, revealing vague shapes. “Light it.”

  Her hands shaky, Caroline made several attempts, until Post dug the gun into her back. “You’re stalling.”

  “I’m not!” At last the wicks flickered into life. The candlelight threw deep shadows over Post’s face painting him the demon he was. She shuddered. If she had a knife, she would drive it into his ribs and never regret it.

  “Get on with it, then.”

  “George kept the keys in the desk drawer.”

  Hoping to find a pistol, Caroline moved behind the satinwood desk and pulled the drawer open. No gun. She picked up the three keys. The antique Italian habitante stood in a corner. She pulled the tassel to draw down the front wooden panel. Removing one of the keys, she placed the other two on the gold leather writing surface.

  She put the key in the drop front door lock, it was stiff and resisted her efforts to turn it. She’d watched George open it several times. He’d made it look easy. An idea came to her. She removed the key and held it out to him. “It has trick locks and needs a strong hand.”

  “I’ll show you a strong hand, after I have the money. Give it to me.” He snatched the key and shoved her aside.

  He bent over the lock and inserted the key. It clicked into place, opening a section. He picked up another key. He rattled it, cursing, then chose another. “If you’re holding out on me,” he growled.

  As he swore and jiggled the key, Caroline reached her hand around her back to the Grecian urn, a solid piece of ceramic, perched on a table behind her. She dismissed the thought that it might be valuable. Her fingers found the cool surface and slid around to grasp the handle.

  “What are you doing?” He turned to stare at her. “Stand where I can see you.”

  She shuffled closer, the heavy urn weighing down her wrist as he resumed his task. Another click. “Got it!”

  She whipped the vase from behind her back and raised it as high as she could. It wobbled in her hands as she brought it down on his head. Post dropped to his knees his hands on his head, cursing foully. The vase rocked on the floor, unbroken.

  Caroline took a step back shocked at what she’d done. Then she came to her senses, turned and ran out the door and fled down the corridor. She turned the corner, straight into blackness. As she scuttled blindly across the floor, she heard him coming after her, a string of invective making her want to cover her ears. She should have hit him harder.

  She passed the dining room door and ran to the drawing room. Her fingers located the doorknob. She opened the doors carefully, and darted inside, banging her knees against the arm of the sofa. Her instinct was to duck down behind it, but she quickly realized that he’d find her in a minute in the candlelight. If memory served her correctly, the swinging panel of the priest’s hole was to the right of the fireplace. It opened up a tiny space, big enough for a man to hide inside. She fumbled her way across the room, furniture guiding her way. Her hands met cold marble. Recognizing the fireplace mantel, she moved further to the right. Would it be possible to locate the panel in the dark? Post could be heard slamming back the door of the dining room, muttering about what he planned to do when he got his hands on her. She tried to calm her noisy breath, and not let panic slow her as she trailed her fingers along the wall. The clock suddenly struck the hour, startling her.

  Would Post’s loud voice wake the servants? She was sure he would make good his threat to shoot them if they rushed to her aid. The man was a cold-blooded murderer. George hadn’t taken on any new staff for years, and none were young or strong enough to deal with Post.

  Caroline continued her fevered search. She surely must be close to the spot where George opened the priest’s hole.

  Wavering candlelight shone through the drawing room door from outside in the corridor. Panicking, Caroline pushed repeatedly at the wall. A part of the paneling lifted up and she clambered quickly inside. It snapped shut leaving her in total blackness. The small space was airless, thick with dust and smelled of mouse droppings. She sucked stale air into her lungs with frantic breaths, trying to reassure herself that it wasn’t airtight, for priests would have hidden here, and mice had found a way inside.

  She sat down as her heart continued to pound its way through her ribs. Her thoughts failed to reass
ure her. How long had the poor devils in the past spent in here? She tried to banish such thoughts from her mind.

  A worse thought struck her. What if she couldn’t open the panel again? She swallowed on a nervous laugh. George hadn’t told her how to do that.

  Caroline prayed Post would give up and return to the safe to get his money and leave. He had spent time in this house, and he may know of the existence of her hiding place. Tucking her legs up, she wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. It would be a long night. She was so tired. She sniffed. She wouldn’t cry. She’d fight to her last breath if she had to.

  The minutes passed, as Caroline strained to hear. Only the tick of the mantel clock penetrated the silence in the room. Had he left? She dared not allow herself to hope. Her legs began to cramp, but there wasn’t quite enough room to straighten them. She shifted uncomfortably and the dust threatened to make her sneeze. A faint noise sounded somewhere in the house, she panicked and held her nose, as the desire to sneeze became more desperate. Was it Post returning to search the room for her?

  The panel swung open.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A hand reached in and grabbed Caroline by the arm, dragging her out onto her knees on the carpet.

  “I was about to give up on you,” Post said in a smug voice. “But then I remembered George showing me this hideout.”

  Caroline slumped. It was over. He’d kill her now.

  He pulled hard on her arms. “On your feet.”

  Candlelight blazed in from the corridor. “Is everything all right, milady?” Kettle asked, coming into the room in his dressing gown and slippers, his bedcap askew.

  “Oh, Kettle,” Caroline cried. “Do whatever this madman asks of you. He is very dangerous.”

  Kettle paused, the candle wobbling in his hands. He hastily put it on a table. “Post? What are you doing here?” He shuffled over to Caroline and stood beside her. “You’re a wanted man around these parts.”

  “They’ll have to catch me first.” Post pointed at the wall with the pistol. “Get into the priest hole, old man.”

  “I prefer to remain with the countess,” Kettle said with quiet dignity.

  Post shoved him, making Kettle stagger back. “Do as I say. I’m itching to shoot you, you always looked down your nose at me. A shot will wake the household. You don’t want a bloodbath do you? I’ll shoot the next person who shows their face at the door. Get in there. The lady and I are planning a little trip.”

  With a stricken glance at Caroline, Kettle silently climbed into the priest hole. He watched her anxiously as the panel slammed shut.

  Post pulled a table over against the panel. “You’ll rot in there, Kettle.” He turned to Caroline. “Bring that candle. We’re going back to the safe. This time, you will open it or else.”

  Caroline didn’t move. “No?” Post shook his head and ran his gaze over her. “I’m only too pleased to have to persuade you.”

  He pushed her along the corridor and into the study. Caroline knelt on the carpet before the safe and took up the key. Her fingers shook with cold and fear as she fought a sense of defeat that made her limbs leaden. If she died, would they ever find poor Kettle? The key turned with a click.

  The safe opened.

  With a cry, Post pushed her aside and dragged out everything inside. “Well, stone the crows, what have we here?” His voice rose in glee at the sight of the jewelry boxes. “If these are what I think they are…” He snatched up the largest and opened it. The emerald necklace sparkled in the candlelight. “Yes! These will set me up for life on the Continent. I can tour the gambling houses and stay in the best hostelries. No one will ever look down on me again.”

  He’d forgotten her. Caroline threw out her arm and knocked the candelabra off the table.

  “Vixen!” Post swung around as the candles rolled over the floor the flames guttering. He dropped the box, his expression set and hard. The room went black and Caroline dropped to the floor.

  A pistol shot rang out.

  ♥♥♥

  The moon was high in the sky when Nicholas and his two companions reached the gates of Debenham Park. They rode their tired horses as hard as they dared along the carriageway. When they grew closer to the house, Nicholas groaned. It was as he’d feared. The lighted study suddenly went dark and a gun shot rang out.

  “Dear God!” Fear and rage coiled through him tightening his gut. Would he find Caroline alive? What had that monster done to her?

  Nicholas jumped down from his horse and ran, the other two at his side. “I know a way into the house at the rear near the servants’ entrance,” he whispered. Icy fear cooled his rage and helped him to remain deadly calm. “Both of you watch the front door and pick him off if he comes out. Hold your fire if Caroline is with him. We can’t risk having her hurt.”

  I must believe she’s alive. He prayed as he entered the gate in the ivy covered wall of the kitchen garden, and ran to the yew that obscured the small wooden door in the wall of the house. This was used as an escape hatch hundreds of years ago. The idea of it had appealed to George and he’d never had it blocked up.

  Inside the kitchen, Nicholas, with knowledge gained from his youth, had little difficulty locating the corridor leading to the dining room in the dark. His fingers tight around his pistol, he stole along with the wall to guide him. A glance in the drawing room told him it was empty. He made for the study. Outside the room, he flattened himself against the wall and listened. Nothing. He edged inside. His foot struck the candles on the floor. He froze, listening for any sound. Moonlight edged in through the open curtains. The room was empty, the safe door open and the contents strewn about.

  Post’s voice came from the Great Hall. Nicholas paused at the servants’ door. He eased it open a crack. Post stood at the open front door holding Caroline hard against him as a shield.

  “If you come out you’re dead, Post.” Phillips shouted from where he’d taken cover.

  “I’ll shoot the countess,” Post screamed. “I’m coming out!” He prodded Caroline in the back with the pistol.

  Post began to edge his way outside, pushing Caroline ahead of him.

  His gun trained on Post, Nicholas didn’t dare risk a shot from this angle fearing it might hit Caroline. He moved stealthily forward across the tiled floor toward the front door.

  Without warning, Caroline fell to her knees on the path.

  Seizing his opportunity, Nicholas called Post’s name. The villain reeled around fear in his eyes.

  “This is for George; you devil! May you rot in hell.” Nicholas pulled the trigger. The ball struck Post high in the chest. With a look of surprise on his face he crumpled to the ground.

  Nicholas ran to Caroline and gathered her shaking body into his arms. “You were so brave, my love. Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

  “I didn’t fall,” Caroline said. “With Phillips and Holmes outside, I knew you would be nearby. I wanted you to have a clear shot.”

  Phillips crouched down beside Post. “Dead,” he pronounced implacably. “And look what I found in his pockets.” He triumphantly held up the emeralds. “I think this is worthy of an increased fee, don’t you think milord?” he asked with a grin.

  “And perhaps a bonus for me,” Holmes said, coming out of the bushes brushing leaves from his sleeve.

  “We’ll talk about that later gentlemen.” Nicholas grinned back at them as he led Caroline into the house.

  “We must rescue poor Kettle,” Caroline said. “Post shut him in the priest’s hole.”

  Returning to the drawing room Nicholas dragged the table away and opened the panel.

  Kettle popped out clutching his bedcap, his eyes owlish, cobwebs decorating his hair. “Oh, thank goodness, milord. You’ve come home. We’ll be alright and tight now.”

  Moments later, the drawing room was alight with candles. The servants rushed about.

  “Caroline, I’d like to properly introduce you to a splendid fellow. Mr. Phillips, t
he Bow Street Runner George employed.”

  Caroline smiled. “It is good to meet you at last, Mr. Phillips.”

  “Countess.” He bowed, his broad smile stretching his bushy red moustache.

  “Post was lucky he died so quickly,” Nicholas said darkly.

  “George’s death has been avenged, and that’s all that matters,” Caroline murmured, as Nicholas handed her a glass of brandy. “Post admitted to killing him. He told me what happened that day. He came back here expecting to find a lot of money, when he heard that the jewels had been sold.”

  “My love,” Nicholas said in a quiet voice, sitting beside her. “Tonight puts an end to all this, and in time the bad memories will fade. I’ll endeavor to hasten them along during our honeymoon.” He took her face in his hands. Everyone scurried from the room as he bent to kiss her.

  ♥♥♥

  Caroline sank into Nicholas’ arms on the drawing room sofa. While commonsense told her the pain and the years of living in fear had ended, she still struggled to believe it. Nor could she forget that Nicholas had had to marry her. They’d been consumed with discovering how George had died, and now it was over, would a quiet life here be enough for Nicholas? Unlike his brother, he was used to excitement, and she hadn’t missed his reluctance when she’d suggested spending their nights by the fireside. Would she be enough for him?

  He drew her to her feet and, looping an arm around her waist, helped her from the room. “You need to rest.”

  She leaned against him as they mounted the stairs.

  They entered her bedchamber, he strode to the bed and pulled back the covers. “In you get, Lady Debenham. I’ll have a maid attend you. I must return to the men.”

  She slipped out of her dressing gown and climbed beneath the covers, wondering if she’d ever get warm. “Will you come to bed soon?”

  Nicholas eyed her carefully. “As soon as I am able. Would you like me to have a hot drink brought up?”