Cecilia had been so focused on escaping her bindings that she did not immediately understand the implications of these words. She felt sure that she was close to loosening the knot in the middle enough to be able to escape. So when she heard Archie pause during his speech, her only thought was, I must make him keep talking for as long as possible!
“When you are…wed?” she asked, repeating the last thing he had said, and only then taking it in.
“Yes,” he said in an excited tone of voice, “when I am wed. When we are wed.”
Cecilia felt more terrified now than she had the whole time she had been here. She was so close to escaping her bonds, but she knew that she must remain still and give nothing away, for Archie was staring directly at her now.
“Come now, Cecilia, there’s no need to look so frightened!” Archie said in an amiable voice that was entirely unsuited to the situation. “It is me, Archie! You have known me for years. You will make me a perfect wife, and give me no reason to mistreat you.”
A wave of confusion swept through Cecilia, as well as terror, and disgust. I have been a kind of sister to Archie for all of these years, how can he wish to marry me?
“I…I see,” Cecilia said, “you would marry me and we would live together in this house?”
“Yes, of course, Cecilia!” Archie said. “Isn’t it obvious? You belong with me, not with some Marquess! How could a member of the aristocracy ever really understand you? He cannot ever know you like I do. All he can do is swoop in and ruin everyone’s plans!”
“What plans?” Cecilia asked. The pounding in her head continued, but it was less intense with each passing moment. As her headache subsided, and her eyes continued to adjust to the darkness of the room, Cecilia thought more clearly about an escape plan.
“My plans!” Archie said, loudly, his voice sounding decidedly angry now. Cecilia knew that she must be careful of every word she said from now on.
“My plans!” Archie yelled again. “I was planning to ask your father for your hand in marriage when that puffed-up twit appeared and seduced you.”
Swallowing her outrage, Cecilia worked to keep her voice calm and conciliatory. “I’m sorry, Archie,” she said. “I had no idea.”
“No Idea!” Archie yelled, sounding enraged now. “You had no idea? It never once occurred to you, in all those years of parading around the workshop, teaching me to read just so that you could spend more time with me, you never realized what you were doing?”
“I’m sorry Archie,” Cecilia said again. “I was only trying to be your friend.”
“My friend?” Archie nearly spat the words at her. “I don’t want a friend; I want a wife! I did everything for you. I did everything right, and now you deny me? You prefer some fancy gentleman who has never worked a day in his life? You are a fool if you think you could ever be a part of his world! I thought that you were different, but you’re just a common trollop.”
Cecilia found that she was suddenly unable to hold back her tears. She was in pain, scared, angry, and exhausted. As the tears began to slide down her cheeks, Cecilia decided that perhaps she could use them to her advantage.
“Oh Archie,” she sobbed. “Archie, I really am sorry! I never meant to hurt you; I swear it.”
“But you did hurt me, Cecilia, you can see that now, can’t you?”
Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, faster now. It was true that she had never wanted to hurt Archie, but all she felt was anger toward him in this moment. He must have hit me over the head while my back was turned in the workshop. How can he say that he loves me if he would do something like that?
Cecilia knew that it would do her no good to speak the truth in this moment, so she said, in between her sobs, “I see it now, Archie, I do. I am truly sorry that I hurt you.”
Archie knelt down in front of her, his face close to hers. He placed a hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her on the mouth. Cecilia’s body tensed, and she made a conscious effort to relax. She could not bring herself to kiss him back, but managed to keep her mouth slack and neutral.
“Oh Cecilia,” Archie said, his voice full of tenderness now, “you are so beautiful.” He reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek, stroking it for a moment.
“And such a terrible liar,” he said, with a note of sadness in his voice. He moved his hand away from her cheek, and then swiftly slapped her so hard that her head was knocked against the wall. Cecilia felt a sharp pain that lasted only a few seconds before darkness enveloped her once again.
* * *
Nicholas’ mind raced as he sped on horseback to the home of Archie Mowbray, the constable riding along at his side. Mr. Baxter trailed behind them on his own horse, unable to keep up with Nicholas’ stallion. He had given them the address and encouraged them to ride ahead, not wanting to waste a single moment. They had agreed that he would return to his own home in case Cecilia should return there.
Nicholas fought down panic as he tried to consider the possibilities. He could not believe that Cecilia had run off on her own, and Mr. Baxter had said the same when they discussed their plan. Nicholas had suggested that Cecilia and Archie might have gone somewhere together, but Mr. Baxter insisted this was not possible.
They decided that Nicholas would go to Archie’s house to see if he was at home, and Mr. Baxter would ask his neighbors if they had seen anything. If either of them found a clue as to where Cecilia might be, they would follow the trail. If not, they would fetch the constable, and meet back at the Baxter’s’ house.
Nicholas was breathing hard, and his horse was lathered by the time he approached the Mowbray family home. He dismounted swiftly and spared only a second to tie his horse’s bridle to a fencepost before approaching the front door. It would do no good to come back out and find his horse gone.
A tired-looking woman of about fifty opened the door to the cottage after a moment. She had dark hair, streaked with gray, and was short and squat, but Nicholas could see the family resemblance and assumed that she must be Archie’s mother.
“Mrs. Mowbray?” he asked.
“Yes, My Lord, I’m Mrs. Mowbray,” she looked shocked at the sight of him, and curtsied awkwardly at his greeting. “What can I do for you, My Lord?”
“Is your son at home, Mrs. Mowbray? It is urgent that I speak with him,” Nicholas said, in a stern voice.
“I’m sorry, My Lord,” she replied, eyes downcast. “He must still be at the Baxter’s’ working. I could give you the address if you’d like to look for him there?”
“He is not there, and it is imperative that I speak to him. Can you think of anywhere else that he might have gone?
“Well…” she said, hesitantly, “perhaps…but I can see no reason why he would go there tonight.”
“Please, you must tell me where this place is!” Nicholas begged. “Miss Baxter is missing, and he may know where she is.”
“I’m very sorry, My Lord,” Mrs. Mowbray said, “I cannot help you.” Her eyes darted from his face, down to the floor, and back again. She was about to close the door in his face, when her eye caught his, and she leaned her head slightly to the left, giving him a meaningful glance.
“Ah, I see,” Nicholas said. “Well, I am sorry to bother you, thank you for your help, Mrs. Mowbray.”
She continued to make eye contact with him as she closed the door, and Nicholas heard a man’s voice asking, “Who’s at the door?”
“Just some man looking for Archie,” Mrs. Mowbray said, “I’ve told him he’s not here.”
“What’s he want our Archie for then?” her husband asked, sounding angry.
“I’ve no idea, but I suppose he’ll be off now. I’ll just go put the cat out, shall I?”
Nicholas walked quietly around to the side of the house that Mrs. Mowbray had indicated with the tilt of her head and waited for her to emerge. After a moment he saw her once again, this time holding a rather grumpy looking, large ginger cat.
“My
husband cannot know that we spoke again,” she said to him in a hurried whisper. “I’m sure he has no idea where Cecilia is, but if you need to speak to Archie, and he is not at the Baxters’ shop, you may find him at my brother’s old house—he stands to inherit it and is doing some work on the house.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mowbray!” Nicholas whispered back. “Thank you!”
Quickly, she gave him directions to the house in question, placed the cat on the ground and returned to the house.
Nicholas untied his horse’s bridle, quickly climbed into the saddle and set off at a gallop. Mrs. Mowbray had insisted that Archie would not know where Cecilia was, but it was the only lead, and he felt that he must follow it. Perhaps Archie knew something that would point Nicholas in the right direction, even if he did not know where Cecilia actually was.
Chapter 29
Cecilia was dreaming, I must be dreaming, I will wake up safely in my bed and think what a strange and terrible dream I have just had. But even as she thought this, she knew that it was not true. She could feel the stone wall against her back, the earthen floor upon which she sat.
She must have fallen asleep—no, I was knocked unconscious. Archie hit me so hard that I was actually knocked unconscious. Cecilia did not know how long she had been in the cellar, but she thought it must have been hours. She was hungry and thirsty, and in addition to the throbbing in her head, her whole body now ached from sitting on the floor.
However long she had been there, she could still not believe that it was Archie who had hit her, Archie who had brought her here, Archie who had stolen her away from her father’s house. She had loved him as a brother, never realizing that he had wanted more. How could I have been so stupid?
As her senses slowly returned to her, Cecilia realized that Archie was sitting on the floor next to her, crying quietly, his head in his hands. She took advantage of his distraction to continue working on loosening the fabric binding her hands.
After a moment Archie realized that she was awake and turned toward her. “Oh, Cecilia. Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake!” he said, between sobs. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Cecilia, I swear it.”
This new, crying version of Archie was somehow more terrifying than the angry one Cecilia had seen earlier. She knew that she must be careful not to make him angry once again.
“I know, Archie,” she said quietly, swallowing her anger. “I know that you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“I didn’t!” he said again, “I didn’t mean it, you just—you just made me so angry! Why did you do that, Cecilia? Why did you make me so angry?”
Cecilia had no idea how to respond to a question such as this. Why had she made him angry? I certainly didn’t mean to make him angry! She was unable to stop herself from crying now, too. She began to shake as the tears ran down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Archie, I didn’t mean to make you angry,” she cried. “I just want to go home!”
“Cecilia, you are not listening to me,” Archie said, with the tone of an adult explaining something to a child. “This is your home now. Of course, I will take over your father’s business eventually, but this house will be grander than his, once I’ve fixed it up. And we will have several children, so we will need the space.”
Cecilia stared at him in disbelief. Nothing he said made sense, but she knew now that this nonsensical version was the true Archie. Her friend for all those years had been a character he played. He would never do this to her, could never have let her cry without offering some comfort.
“I shall be successful enough that you will no longer need to work in the shop—it would not be proper for a wife to work, and you will be a perfectly proper wife,” he continued waxing poetic about the future he imagined for them. “You shall have this whole beautiful house to manage, and in which to raise our children.”
Cecilia had redoubled her efforts to free her hands, and finally managed to slip her right hand out of the binding. The fabric was still wound tightly around her left hand, but that no longer mattered. She hid her hands in the folds of her skirt so that he could not see that she had escaped her bonds, and waited for the perfect moment to make her move, tears still rolling down her cheeks.
* * *
Nicholas set off at a gallop and soon found himself approaching a brick house with an overgrown front garden and vines creeping up its face. He dismounted and tied up his horse before approaching the house. No candles shone through the windows, so that the house had an empty, disused look about it.
Not wanting to announce his presence before he knew what was inside, Nicholas walked stealthily around the perimeter of the building. Behind the back of the house, he saw a horse tied up, and he recognized it as the one Cecilia had ridden when they had run into each other in town.
He felt a surge of hope as he realized that this almost certainly meant that Cecilia was here. Perhaps she had come with Archie to help him work on the house.
Approaching the servant’s entrance at the back of the house, Nicholas peered through a window into the kitchen. Other than a thick layer of dust, the kitchen appeared to be in order, except for a table and chairs pushed to the side of the room. Tracks in the dust on the floor showed where they had originally been positioned.
And there, in the middle of the floor, directly under where the table would have been positioned, was a trap door. There must have been a cellar under the kitchen floor. Given the position of the table and chairs, Nicholas thought that he would be likely to find Cecilia and Archie down there.
Nicholas checked the door and was relieved to find it unbarred. He was sure that he could have broken it down if necessary, but this was easier, and less likely to draw attention. The afternoon light was fading, and there was no fire in the kitchen hearth, no lantern or candle burning anywhere. With each passing moment, the room grew dimmer.
Nicholas crept carefully to the trap door and opened it slowly, the hinges gave only the slightest squeak as the door opened. The ladder beneath him led into a deeper darkness, and Nicholas could not see what awaited him below. A sense of foreboding began to rise in Nicholas, Why would Cecilia and Archie be working in the dark?
Nicholas crept down the ladder, quiet as a cat. He was careful to place his feet gently on each rung, so as to make as little noise as possible. Before his eyes had a chance to adjust to the total darkness of the cellar, he heard a man’s voice. After a moment, he recognized it as Archie.
“There now Cecilia, you see there is no need to cry,” Archie said. “Just do not make me angry, and I promise I shall never hurt you again.”
Nicholas felt a pang of confusion, followed by fear and then rage, all in the span of just a few seconds. Archie was holding Cecilia in a dark cellar, and promising never to hurt her again. Never again—meaning that he has hurt her before. Damn the man, I swear I shall kill him.
Throwing caution to the wind, Nicholas allowed his body to take over. He ran across the room without a thought for how much noise he was making, or what he would do if Archie attacked him immediately. He could no longer think strategically; all he could think of was Cecilia.
The idea of her in danger had sent waves of panic through him for the past several hours. Now, the thought of her hurt created a rage within him that overshadowed that panic, as well any other emotion he might have felt.
As he rushed through the darkness Nicholas felt around him for something that could be used as a weapon. In addition to Archie’s voice, he could now hear Cecilia crying. Following the sound of her cries, Nicholas approached, picking up a broom with a long wooden handle as he passed.
The air was cold and smelled musty. Nicholas calculated that Cecilia had likely been trapped down here for at least six hours. She must be freezing by now.
As he approached Archie and Cecilia, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and he was able to make out their outlines. Archie was pacing back and forth, he seemed almost unsure of what to do. Cecilia was sitting against the wall. Her hair was disheveled, and he
r face was smudged with dirt, and streaked with tears.
Archie had not seen Nicholas approaching; he kept his eyes trained on Cecilia at all times. After a few seconds, however, Cecilia’s eyes widened in disbelief. Nicholas raised a finger to his lips, warning her to be quiet. Cecilia nodded at him, ever so slightly.
Nicholas walked as quietly as he could manage toward Archie, raising the broom handle high in both hands. He was about to bring the handle down upon Archie’s head, but Archie must have sensed a presence behind him. He turned around and lunged at Nicholas, who brought the broom handle down on Archie’s shoulder instead of his head.
Archie yelled out in pain, but continued to lunge at Nicholas, swinging his right fist in front of him, his left arm hanging temporarily lifeless at his side. Nicholas lunged forward and raised an arm to block Archie’s swing, pushing him backwards.
The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 23
