She sighed. "Well, you need to get it, I suppose."
"But everyone is coming."
"I'll stay here."
"But--"
"Really, it's only for a few hours." She kissed him warmly.
He sighed. "I could send a servant, but--"
"It's all right. I could use the time to get your gifts all wrapped and do a bit of mending. I really don't mind."
"What if they all arrive very early?"
She shrugged. "We're all friends. I adore Parks and Monroe, and I'm sure Vevina and Stewart and Mitchell and Baines will be over as soon as they hear Parks hallooing through the County like Tony Lumpkin."
They laughed happily, and went to have their bath.
A short time later, dressed warmly in one of his dark suits, Will took his leave of her.
"I'll see you this evening, dearest."
"If the weather's bad, you ought to stay overnight at an inn."
"And miss a night with my most divertingly lovely wife? Not a chance in this world." He kissed her hard and got up into the coach.
She tucked the hot water bottles on the seat next to him and closed the door. Elizabeth waved goodbye as he headed off in the carriage. "Be safe!"
She went into the house and stepped into the front parlor to get her embroidery hoop. She was about to go upstairs when a rattling noise coming from one of the rooms caught her attention.
Elizabeth followed the noise to the darkened drawing room, and peered in. She stepped through the portal, all her senses alert, looking at each of the French windows in turn. The door at the far end rattled and blew open.
At the frigid gust of wind she ran quickly to close it. She was tugging the handle inwards when rough hands seized her. She could feel herself being yanked outside into the freezing open air.
Elizabeth had only a few seconds as she was dragged away from her home, but it was enough. She not only dropped her hoop, she snapped her needle from the thread, then slipped off one bracelet, and then her wedding ring, scattering them along the path as she was hauled away from her home to the gods only knew where.
Stewart watched with a fond smile as Vevina slept. At last. She'd been so restless and importunate for the past few weeks he had begun to wonder if she were suffering from some sort of peculiar malady.
Ever since All Hallow's Eve she had been so unsettled. The only thing which seemed to allow her to fall at last into an exhausted slumber were the longest and most ardent episodes of lovemaking.
Not that he was complaining of course, for they had always been a most passionate couple. But it was getting more and more difficult for him to keep up with her, and since October he had allowed her to get the better of him on more than one occasion.
Of course he would love to have more children some day, but he had never been able to get the picture of Vevina nearly dying in childbirth at Salamanca out of his mind. Four children was an awfully big burden on a woman not even twenty-three.
But it would be as fate decreed. He had long ago stopped trying to control his life where Vevina was concerned. He just surrendered all his love to her and worshipped her unreservedly as the best thing that had ever happened in his life.
Stewart was about to get in bed beside his wife when her hand snaked out to grab his wrist in a bone-crushing grip which brought tears to his eyes and left him struggling to breathe.
Her violet eyes were wide, unfocused, staring at a spot in the distance. For a moment he could have sworn he saw a flash of golden fire in the irises.
Then she spoke. "It's begun."
Will was thrown forward hard as the carriage lurched to a halt. The horses screamed in terror. He could hear a huge cracking as if the vehicle were being split in two.
He pushed himself off the seat opposite and sat back. Tugging the sash until the glass dropped, he stuck his head out the window.
A huge oak tree had tumbled right onto the road. Its gnarled roots and vast trunk towered over the horses as they plunged and reared. He dragged off his greatcoat and hastened out of the coach. He took two steps forward and halted mid-stride. There weren't any trees on this stretch of the road…. It was all hedgerow.
A prickle along the back of his neck made him turn to look in the direction of his home. The entire slate-gray sky was clear apart from one huge cloud black as night louring over Ardmore.
Will ran now to the right-hand horse, flinging his coat over its head. He secured it by tying the sleeves together. Before the driver could even offer to help he snapped the leather tracers with his bare hands, freeing the beast from its harness.
"Take the other one and go to the Castle, Griffiths. Tell the Duke to pass the word up and down the line to muster the militia."
"The militia? But why?
"Don't ask, just trust me and do it!"
"But it's Christmas leave. They'll all be—"
"Do what you can, and hurry," he said as he swung onto the horse's back. "And may the gods help us all." He gathered the reins and rode like the wind for home.
Parks and Monroe cowered under their hats and cloaks, trying to get some respite from the driving rain.
"So whose idea was it again to ride ahead of the baggage?" Monroe complained.
"Mine, I admit it. But I'm eager to get there."
"Surely you don't believe those rumours?"
Parks shrugged one shoulder. "Why not. I've found even more bizarre ones to be true."
"But it's the shortest day of the year tomorrow. And Andre knows his job."
Parks nodded. "But Andre can only know what he's told, and even then, messages can fail to arrive in a timely manner, or go astray. As for the winter solstice, it will give them time to land all the troops under cover of darkness before anyone even knows what happened. They can also take advantage of Christmas leave.
"Or maybe they're trying to prove they can defeat the winter after all, given the beating they took in Russia. Whatever it is, we need be ready."
"We'll be there soon. Try to settle yourself. We'll go in, have a look at the way the land lies, so to speak, and decide what to do."
"And hope to Heaven that all the houses along the coastline aren't razed to the ground and everyone inside slaughtered, or worse," Parks said, spurring his horse even harder.
Will arrived home and shouted up the stairs to Elizabeth. All was silence. He stormed into the small parlor at the front and rang the bell until the wire snapped.
"Edgars, where's my wife?" he demanded of the butler.
"Upstairs, sir?"
"Get the rest of the servants together now. We need to find her."
Will and the household staff had searched every room in the house with increasing alarm by the time the two bedraggled men arrived on their winded horses.
"Will, what on earth is the matter?" Parks demanded as he shook out his hat and coat in the foyer.
"Elizabeth. She's gone."
"It's Christmas. She might have--" Monroe tried to suggest.
Will shook his head. "No, she would have told someone."
"None of the servants--"
"No. She's gone."
The two men were inclined to believe Will was overreacting at first. When a rattling and banging caused them to run into the drawing room to investigate, they began to believe his frantic assertions.
They saw the fallen embroidery hoop first with the aid of a candle Parks had snatched up. All of Will's instincts bristled. He stepped out into the swirling storm. A short time later he came back with his wife's bracelet and ring.
He held it out to them, his whole body trembling. "They've taken her!"
"Who? Why?" Parks demanded.
He hesitated only an instant before confessing, "Because she knows where the cave is." Then he was charging down the tree-lined avenue toward the beach, forcing his friends to run hard to keep up with him.
Parks grabbed one shoulder and swung him around to face him.
"Cave?" he asked in a deceptively quiet tone. "You never said—"
"I have my reasons."
"I should very much like to know what they are, sir."
"Please, Geoffrey, there isn't time! We need to go after them."
"But we have hardly anything with us except our swords and pistols. Even then I'm sure all our powder is damp."
"Everything we need will be in the cave," Will threw over his shoulder as he resumed his break-neck pace.
"But if Elizabeth knows about it, why did no one else ever find it?" Monroe demanded.
"I don't know."
"Is there an entrance on the beach?" Parks asked.
"Yes, one of them," Will revealed.
"Then we need to go in through the other way and try to take them by surprise. The last thing we need is an exchange of fire in an enclosed space."
Will nodded and veered off towards Joyce Hall. "Listen, Parks, I say-" he began as they started to trot anew.
"Save it for later. Or for your court martial, or trial for treason," Parks snapped. "Right now we need to concentrate on stopping those traitors and saving your innocent wife."
Chapter Thirty-four
Elizabeth had struggled all the way to the beach knowing that the longer she stalled the more likely it was that someone would realise she had been taken.
But she also knew she couldn't count on rescue. Will was on his way to Waterford, and their Christmas guests weren't due for quite some time.
Even if they did arrive in on the dot or early despite the teeming weather, they would have no reason to suspect anything was amiss. Only Vevina might guess about her disappearance and the cave. So she needed to buy some time.
She fought Fitzsimmons like a mad woman, scratching, biting, clawing, and doing anything to leave a trail which could be followed.
She was also hoping to force him into hitting her hard enough to have to drag her, and for her to least feign unconsciousness so she would not have to face what he was planning to do to her to force her to reveal the location of cave.
She wondered about him having come alone. Surely he was not so clever that he could manage plans for the invasion of Ireland all by himself?
He clung to her like a limpet as she struggled to break free. She was fairly sure he wouldn't kill her. Not yet. No, he was looking forward to making her suffer first.
Elizabeth trembled inwardly, but told herself she had to endure. For the sake of her unborn child and the love she bore Will, she would do anything to stay alive. He was not going to lose another wife and child to the war. Not if she could help it.
And she was never going to help Fitzsimmons invade Ireland, no matter what he did to her. If he got hold of the hidden cache of weapons, none of the people in the district would be safe.
At last she managed to break away and ran a few steps back toward the house.
He caught her by the hair and struck her hard. He aimed for her jaw, but his signet ring carved a furrow in her delicate cheekbone, and she collapsed face-first in the sand.
She lay still as a stone even when he tried to determine whether she were playing possum by groping her bottom and breasts.
The storm was raging overhead, so despite his rampant lusts, Fitzsimmons steadied himself. Even he had enough common sense to know he could not run the risk of remaining out in the open too long. No, he would have to get to shelter at some point.
And do what exactly? she wondered, relaxing all of her muscles so that she would not flinch no matter what he did to her.
Her only guess would be to secure the guns and signal the fleet, which would have to be standing off the coast, but near enough to be in visual range, close enough to take advantage of the element of surprise.
So she endured his painful hands upon her until finally he grunted, "Bloody great. I hit the bitch too hard."
He hoisted her up over his shoulder none too gently and strode down the strand.
Oh, gods above, she thought. He's heading straight for the cave.
Then she remembered what he said the night he had tried to propose. Fitzsimmons had told her he'd seen her on the beach that day when she had thought him her mystery lover. He'd been looking for the cave even then. So where had he been that he had seen her, but not found the cave when she had?
Up on the cliffs was the obvious answer, but she'd seen no one. So there had to be some sort of concealed outpost he had been using all summer and autumn.
She remembered the light she'd seen on the cliffs that night months ago. Had he been keeping watch in a ruined hut or cottage?
Will knew the whole area. If he came back in time, he would find her. She just had to hold out long enough. Or get a weapon to disable, but not kill him. She was sure he would be more valuable alive so he could reveal his accomplices. This was not the first time this nest of traitors had planned an invasion. And it wouldn't be the last if they didn't weed out the conspiracy once and for all.
These thoughts comforted her as she was jounced upside down over his shoulder. She only wished she had had the presence of mind to have grabbed a stone before he had hauled her off the ground.
Fitzsimmons got to the top of the hill huffing and puffing, and dumped her unceremoniously in the sedge. It rustled and prickled against her even though it was soaked. Through the partly open slits of her eyes she could see the remnants of a tumble-down cottage with one small section of roof still intact.
He towed her in by her hair. All her instincts ached to scream, but she forced herself to remain silent. Despite herself she gave a grimace of pain as he bumped her over the stone threshold and flung her down.
"You can stop pretending. I saw your eyes open." He tugged her wrists and tied them in front of her with a length of rope. Then he took a drink of water and shoved the skin at her. She took a sip, and sighed.
"When they find out I'm missing, the entire County-"
He shook his head and gave a self-satisfied smile. "The local superstition that this place is haunted has served me well over the years. No one comes here. It's not very dry, but it will do for now. Unless you'd care to tell me what I want to know, in which case we can go into the cave and stay nice and dry."
"What cave?"
"Don't bother to pretend."
"I mean it. I don't know what you're talking about. You've grabbed me out of my own home and--"
"You know what I'm talking about. Tell me now and I might go easy on you."
"I've just had a terrible fall. What makes you think, even if I ever knew anything about a cave, that I would remember?"
He shrugged at that, and took another pull from the waterskin. "It doesn't matter now. I'm prepared to wait a bit longer. If you really don't know or recall, and your husband truly hasn't confided in you, he will most certainly confide in me to get you back."
She shook her head. "He's no fool. You have no intention of letting me live. Not after you find out what you need to know. Obviously, whatever you think is in this supposed cave is important enough to kidnap for, and to kill for."
He nodded.
"So why me? What could Will know that's worth risking his wrath and that of my family and all of our friends?"
He eyed her levelly, obviously trying to gauge just how naïve she was. His underestimation of her might well be her salvation.
"I can understand you being angry with me, Mr. Fitzsimmons. After all, you think I jilted you." She tested him then, though she nearly choked on the lie. "Is THAT what this is all about? Because if it is, I think there's been a big misunderstanding. I know you offered for me. Would it make any difference if I told you that my brother said he'd disown me if I didn't marry Will instead of you?"
He nodded, and now slapped his hand on his thigh. "I knew it!"
She couldn't believe her luck. The vain fool actually believed her.
"You're right, it does make a difference. Your brother can be added to the list of all the people I'm going to ground into dust when his glorious Imperial Majesty defeats this pathetic little island nation and turns the entire political system on its head."
> "You mean the same man who made all of his siblings kings or queens," she observed dryly.
Her sarcasm was lost upon him. "Exactly so. I knew you'd understand. Most of the people hereabouts are so obtuse. Catholics." He practically spat the word. "All sorts of Popery and pagan nonsense. Our new world order will be one of reason and enlightenment."
"So I see. Anyone who disagrees with you, you kill. Don't tell me you're doing this out of some youthful idealism," she hissed. "The French are planning to invade, aren't they?"
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 59
