“My God,” Elizabeth whispered, staring at Gerald in horror. “Was there no way you could have brought the child to me, Gerald? I would pay whatever was necessary to remove her from that hideous atmosphere.”
“I tried, Elizabeth. I knew what your wishes would be. Unfortunately, the poor child screamed every time I came near her. I can only assume that her father mistreated her before placing her in that home and that she is terrified of all males. That’s why I am here. I’m hoping, dear cousin, that you’ll go back to that house with me. I feel sure little Rebecca would allow you to rescue her. You have an unusual affinity with children.”
“Give me five minutes to fetch my bonnet and reticule,” Elizabeth responded. She hurried from the room, having completely forgotten about Billy, who had been huddled behind the settee from the moment Gerald entered the room.
Gerald guided his curricle through the busy London streets while Elizabeth sat beside him, clutching her reticule and wondering how Kenrick would react to her bringing another child into the house. She did have a tendency to adopt things, she supposed—first Apollo, then Billy, and now a little girl. But, after seeing how kind her husband had been to Billy, Elizabeth was certain he wouldn’t object to her rescuing this little girl.
“How much further, Gerald?” Elizabeth asked. She’d paid very little attention to their route but was beginning to notice that they had entered a part of London that was new to her. The narrow houses overhung the streets, effectively shutting out what little light filtered through the dense clouds.
“Not far now, Cousin,” he said, briefly turning to Elizabeth with a bright smile. The glitter she had noted earlier in his eyes was still there, making Elizabeth wonder why Gerald was still so excited. Surely he didn’t doubt that she would be able to persuade the little girl to come with her.
In less than five minutes, Gerald had turned into a small square where the houses were a bit more tidy and spacious than those they had just passed. “There it is,” he said, pointing toward a solid brick sitting in a small and unkempt garden. “She’s in that house.”
Elizabeth glanced up at the small square windows that lined the second story and shivered when she saw the heavy iron bars covering each opening. “Let’s hurry, Gerald. This place unnerves me.”
“It’s rather nice in comparison to most such houses,” Gerald informed her with a tiny frown, almost, Elizabeth thought, as though she were criticizing the place. But that was silly. Perhaps he was as affected by the atmosphere as she was.
Suppressing another shiver of distaste, Elizabeth allowed Gerald to help her descend from the curricle and to guide her toward the walk leading to a sturdy front door. “Did you explain to the caretaker that you would be returning with me?” she asked.
“I certainly did,” Gerald replied. His frown had turned into a rather grim smile. “I paid him well so he wouldn’t forget. In fact, I see that our host, Horace, awaits us at the door.”
Elizabeth had not expected her courage to fail her at such a moment, but neither had she anticipated that the proprietor of this private madhouse would possess every ill-favored feature with which a novelist might have endowed such a character. He was enormous, both in height and girth, with a low brow, small and close-set eyes, and slumping shoulders. The grin that split his unshaven jowls revealed a host of missing teeth as he lumbered out to meet them.
“This her?” he asked, grinning at Gerald and nodding toward Elizabeth.
Gerald quickly reached to grasp Elizabeth’s hand, a gesture she very much appreciated because she was feeling more than a bit intimidated. She was surprised, however, to find that Gerald’s hand was trembling a little. Could Gerald, too, be nervous? If so, he tried to hide his feelings by giving her an encouraging smile as he led her to the front door.
A blast of unpleasant odors greeted Elizabeth as she stepped into the dimly lit entrance hall. Her stomach threatened to rebel as the stench of unwashed bodies, unemptied chamber pots, and overcooked food assailed her nostrils. Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat, Elizabeth clutched Gerald’s hand more tightly. “Can we hurry, please?” she asked.
“Of course,” Gerald said. Still grasping her hand, he pulled her toward a set of stairs located far back in the shadowed entrance. “Upstairs. Don’t worry, Elizabeth. This won’t take long.”
Elizabeth allowed Gerald to lead her up the stairs and down a long hallway with tightly closed doors on either side. The hulking Horace followed close behind. Only when they reached the very last door on the right did Gerald stop and reach to lift the door latch.
“In here,” he said, pushing the door open.
Elizabeth was scanning the chamber even as she stepped through the doorway. The furnishings consisted of a narrow cot, a small table, and a wooden chair, all bolted to the floor. No curtains softened the bleakness of the square, barred window, nor did even a tiny rug provide a touch of color on the age-darkened hardwood floor. There was, after all, very little to see, so it was easy enough to see that no little girl inhabited this room.
“Where’s Rebecca?” Elizabeth asked, spinning to glare at a still-grinning Horace whose massive frame now filled the doorway leading into the hall.
His widening grin was her only reply.
“Gerald, do something,” Elizabeth demanded frantically. “Don’t you realize that Rebecca is not here? He has moved her to another chamber.”
“No, dear cousin,” Gerald replied. His gaze upon Elizabeth’s face was almost tender. “There is no Rebecca. The story of her plight was a ruse to entrap you. I regret to tell you, Elizabeth, that this chamber is your future home, compliments of your not-so-loving husband.”
Elizabeth had time to scream only once before Gerald ducked back into the hallway and Horace slammed the door behind him. Stunned, she listened in horror to the faint sounds of a heavy bolt shooting home and the departing footsteps of the two men who had lured her into this barren chamber in an establishment for housing the hopeless.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kenrick had left Oak Groves to hurry back to the city, rushing to satisfy an urgent foreboding he didn’t understand. Surely there was no reason to fear for Elizabeth’s safety. He had asked her to avoid Gerald’s company, and she had given her word that she would do so. He trusted Elizabeth. So why did he feel as though his hopes for their future together were being blasted asunder?
The trip to London seemed to take twice as long as usual, and Kenrick was tired when he at last pulled his grays to a halt on the pavement in front of Kenrick House. Hurriedly tossing the reins to his groom, he took the front steps two at a time and was already in the entrance hall before the footman had an opportunity to approach the door.
“Where’s my wife?” he demanded, glaring at the confused servant as though the man were guilty of purposely and maliciously concealing Elizabeth’s location.
“I-I do not know, my l-lord,” the footman replied, glancing in obvious trepidation about the hall. His relief was almost palpable when he saw Larkman approaching from the rear of the hallway.
“You are home, my lord,” Larkman noted unnecessarily, although there was in his tone an expression indicating a great degree of satisfaction in his observation. “May I suggest, your lordship, that—”
“Where’s my wife?” Kenrick interrupted. Having tossed his gloves and hat to the footman, he hurried to intercept Larkman, who appeared unusually reticent about answering.
Kenrick’s scowl suggested he was not pleased by his reception. “I have asked a simple question twice now. Would it be too much, Larkman, to expect a simple answer?”
“Not at all, my lord,” Larkman replied. “Her ladyship is out. May I suggest that—”
“Where has she gone?”
If he was growing tired of being interrupted, Larkman obviously thought too highly of his worth as a butler to allow his emotions to show. “I do not know, your lordship,” he said calmly but with a rather telling tilt to his head. “However, I believe the dowager marchio
ness will know. She is in the library and, if I may be so bold, she appears rather upset. May I suggest that—”
“I’ll be in the library,” Kenrick flung over his shoulder while hurrying down the hallway.
Mary was sitting quietly beside the fireplace, staring into the empty hearth as though she were enthralled by a particularly beguiling display of flames. She didn’t look up when the door opened, but her tense question was instant. “Larkman, have you sent for Jeremy as I asked you to do?”
It was a minute before Kenrick could respond, so great was the fear that suddenly inundated him. He had been correct in his prescience: Something had happened to Elizabeth.
“Mother, what’s going on here?” he demanded.
Mary jumped to her feet at the sound of his voice and dashed to throw her arms around him. “Jeremy, thank God you are here. Elizabeth has disappeared, and I didn’t know how to begin to search for her.”
Kenrick held his mother’s trembling body in a firm embrace for several seconds before he guided her to a chair and gently lowered her into it. “Be calm, dearest. I’ll find Elizabeth, but first you must tell me all you know about her disappearance.”
“It’s all the fault of that dreadful boy—Gerald. How I wish I had given up on him years ago, but I always hoped he could eventually be saved. It is too late for that now. He has kidnapped our dear Elizabeth and then tried to convince me that she has run away with another man.”
Kenrick stared into his mother’s snapping eyes for long seconds as he tried to comprehend her words. Against everything she had ever said in the past, it appeared she had always known Gerald was evil. But consideration of that staggering realization must wait for another day. First he had to find Elizabeth. “Mother, dear,” he said softly, “I want you to begin at the beginning and tell me everything that happened prior to Elizabeth’s disappearance.”
“I certainly shall,” Mary said firmly. “It started, you see, when Gerald arrived here unexpectedly with a story about a little girl who needed help.”
In less than two minutes, Mary had succinctly described Gerald’s story and Elizabeth’s departure with him. “Then,” she continued, “Gerald returned alone about an hour later. He was pretending to be upset, but I could judge from the unnatural glitter in his eyes that he felt very triumphant about something. He told me that Elizabeth had run away with another man. He fabricated a ridiculous story about Elizabeth knowing some man named Bradley Blackwell—a fictitious name, no doubt—before she married you. Gerald claimed that Elizabeth had continued to meet this Blackwell man after she and I moved to London.
“He also claimed that Elizabeth had used him as an unwitting accomplice after introducing Mr. Blackwell to him as her cousin. He went on to say that Elizabeth often spent time with Mr. Blackwell when she was supposedly out riding with Gerald.
“Today, Gerald said, Mr. Blackwell approached Elizabeth and begged her to run away with him. Supposedly the man had purchased passage on a ship bound for America, and Elizabeth agreed to join him. Gerald says we shall never see Elizabeth again.”
Kenrick still stood beside his mother’s chair, his fists clenched at his sides. “Gerald is a damned liar,” he said, his voice tight with fury.
“Of course he is a liar, Jeremy. He has taken Elizabeth somewhere—probably to one of those houses he was telling us about—and left her locked away there.”
“But why?” Kenrick asked. “I always knew he wished to harm me, but why Elizabeth?”
“That is rather obvious, my dear. Gerald could see that you and Elizabeth were growing increasingly fond of each other. It was only a matter of time before she would provide you with a son. Gerald has no doubt borrowed heavily on his expectations and would be ruined should he be supplanted as your heir.”
“Did he tell you all of this?” Kenrick asked, his tone incredulous.
“Of course not, dear. In fact, I pretended to believe his outrageous fabrication about Elizabeth. I felt that was the best path to follow until we can find her. If Gerald had suspected that we would be searching for her, he might have panicked and tried to kill her.”
Kenrick stood staring with widened eyes into his mother’s face for long seconds before he at last took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I owe you an apology, Mother, for having underestimated you for so many years. But an appropriate apology must wait until we have found Elizabeth, and frankly, I fear that task will be extremely time-consuming. I suspect you’re correct in thinking that Gerald has Elizabeth locked away in a house such as those he described to you. Unfortunately, as he said, hundreds of such houses are scattered throughout London. I’ll hire some Bow Street Runners, of course, but even then, unless I can persuade Gerald to cooperate, it may take months to locate Elizabeth.”
“Gerald assured me he would be in his rooms should I have need of him, but do you think he would actually tell you the truth should you asked him?”
“That would depend upon how firmly I asked him,” Kenrick murmured. Then, realizing that he had voiced his thinly veiled threat aloud, he glanced at his mother in some trepidation and was amazed to find her shrugging.
“If you must beat the information out of him, so be it,” she said quite calmly. “However, I suggest you not waste any more time. If he starts thinking about what he has done, he may become so frightened he’ll run away and hide somewhere.”
Kenrick suppressed a strong desire to chuckle, knowing his mother would not understand the humor he found in discovering for the first time the ruthlessness of this frail little lady seated before him. Instead he merely raised his eyebrows. “No doubt you are correct. I’ll leave for Gerald’s residence immediately.”
He was bending to kiss his mother’s cheek when a brief scratching on the door preceded Larkman’s entrance. Hard on his heels were two small but very determined-looking young boys.
“Not now, Larkman,” Kenrick said quickly.
“But your lordship—”
“No, Larkman, I’m sorry, but whatever the problem may be, I have no time to consider it at the moment. If the boys have been mischievous, reprimand them yourself. I have urgent business elsewhere.”
For perhaps the first time in his professional life, Larkman allowed his features to express his frustration. With eyebrows raised so high they seemed in danger of merging with his hair, the butler marched across the room, towing Billy and Johnny behind him. “I beg your pardon, your lordship,” Larkman said in a firm tone. “However, I must insist that you listen to me. You see, these two young lads claim that the marchioness has been incarcerated in a madhouse and that they know where she is being held.”
“Thank God,” Mary said, a smile of relief brightening her face. “Jeremy, you must leave immediately. Poor Elizabeth must be—”
“Get out of my way, fellow,” an agitated voice sounded from just beyond the door. “If you think I shall allow a mere footman to stand between me and my daughter…”
Kenrick groaned even before the door was thrust open. His mother-in-law’s strident tones had just penetrated one of the thickest wooden doors in England. She burst into the room, her husband following in her wake.
“Where is my daughter?” the countess demanded, glaring at Kenrick. “We have found it necessary to interrupt our studies again because we learned that you have not yet returned Elizabeth to her little house in the country where she can be comfortable.”
Kenrick squared his shoulders and returned the countess’s glare. “As I recall, I assured you that I would care for Elizabeth. It is not necessary for you to come dashing back to London every time some busybody—”
“Never mind that,” the countess interrupted. “I want to judge Elizabeth’s condition for myself. Where is she?”
“Where is she?” Kenrick repeated, gulping as he suddenly realized just how lax his care of Elizabeth had been.
“Yes, where is she?” the countess countered, suspicion beginning to flicker in her eyes.
“I’ll tell ye where she is, lady,”
Johnny piped up. Both he and Billy had begun shifting from foot to foot as their impatience increased. Realizing that their rescue of Elizabeth was being delayed by some female demanding an answer to a simple question, Johnny was quite prepared to provide her with a reply. “Lady Kenrick’s locked up in a looby house, and if ye don’t stop yer yapping and let us—”
“A what?” the countess demanded, turning to stare down at the scruffy little boy she had not deigned to notice when she swept into the room.
“A house fer loobys, fer zanys, fer lunatics,” Johnny replied with just a bit too much elaboration.
The countess stared at Johnny for long seconds as the color slowly drained from her face. “Oh my poor daughter. My poor, poor child,” she finally moaned, just before she fainted, falling backward into Larkman’s reluctant embrace.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elizabeth had been frightened on several occasions in the past, but never had she known the kind of panic and horror she experienced when she realized that Gerald had really abandoned her to a lifetime of confinement in this tiny and desolate room. Only after her voice had grown hoarse and her fists were bruised and bleeding had she been able to force herself to stop screaming and pounding on that very heavy and very secure door.
When panic eventually gave way to exhaustion, she collapsed, sliding into the floor beside the door where she lay sniffling until she drifted into a restless and disturbed sleep. When she awoke, she was stiff, aching, and confused. The clouds that had threatened earlier in the day had dissipated, but the sky outside her tiny window was growing dim. Dusk, obviously, was only minutes away.
Groaning softly, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled across the room to stare with aching eyes at the small patch of darkening sky she could detect through the branches of a large old oak. Determined to dredge up a bit of optimism for the sake of her sanity, she reflected for a few seconds on how fortunate she was to have a tree outside her window to help her gauge the passing of the seasons.
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