The Highwayman and The Lady (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  Then she remembered being at the baby's grave and Rutledge appearing out of nowhere. How had he gotten here? He was supposed to have been in London?

  Meg blinked in the darkness, trying to make an assessment of where she was. Wherever it was, it was dark and cold and clammy.

  She tried to move her hands and heard the clink of chains. She felt the weight of the cold metal on her wrists. She was seated, chained to the wall she leaned against. There wasn't even enough chain to allow her to stand.

  "Bastard," she whispered in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted she saw the stone walls of her prison. Rutledge had locked her up somewhere, but where?

  The castle dungeon she guessed. She'd only been down here a few times in all the years she lived at the castle. "Not a place fit for females," Philip had grumbled.

  She stared at the cold stone walls. For once, Philip had been right. This wasn't a place fit for females, nor males, nor any living creature . . .

  It was all Meg could do not to panic. She was cold and afraid of what might come out of the darkness.

  What was even more frightening was the thought of why Percival had put her here. What did he intend to do with her . . . to her?

  She shifted on the hard, cold floor scattered with straw. The one thing that she did know was that she wouldn't give up. She had too much to live for in the child in her womb. She wouldn't let the Randall family win. They'd not conquered Kincaid and they'd not conquer her.

  A sound at the wall behind her head startled her. Was something down here? She listened without moving. It was a steady sound, like two stones clicking together. Had the earl incarcerated some other poor soul here in the bowels of the castle?

  "Hello?" Meg cried cautiously, her cheek pressed against the wall. "Is someone there?"

  The rhythmic clicking stopped immediately.

  Meg waited and then after a moment called again, this time a little louder. "I said, is someone there?"

  After a moment there was one distinct click. Like a stone hitting the stone of the wall.

  "Can you hear me?" Meg asked.

  One click.

  "Yes? That means yes, one tap?"

  Another singular tap.

  "Are you trapped here, too?"

  One click.

  Meg's voice was shaky. The thought that Percival might have left someone else in this prison turned her stomach. "The Earl of Rutledge?"

  Again a click, this time harder.

  Meg laid her cheek against the cold stone, the chains on her wrists clinking as she shifted her position where she sat on the floor. "Can . . . you speak?"

  There was a pause. Then two clicks.

  If one click meant yes, two had to mean no.

  "So you can't speak," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. "You poor soul." Then louder. "Are you a woman?"

  One click.

  Meg exhaled softly. She was afraid to ask how long she'd been here.

  "Don't worry," Meg said after a moment. "We're going to get out of here, you and I. We're going to outsmart the earl. Do you understand?"

  There was no answer. Then the steady clicking began again.

  With a sigh Meg rested her head against the wall, staring into the darkness. "We're going to get out of here," she repeated with determination. "We're going to escape."

  Then she thought of Kincaid. By now he had been to Saity's. Saity had sworn she wouldn't tell him where Meg had gone. But what if she had? What if Kincaid had persuaded her in some way?

  She smiled in the darkness. Kincaid could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. Perhaps he threatened and she told. But a better guess was that he'd sweet-talked her into giving him the information. Kincaid had always been a sweet talker.

  If Kincaid knew she had gone to Rutledge, he would come after her. If for nothing else, to kill her himself . . .

  Twenty-nine

  Kincaid rode down the center of the highway, headed toward the meager town of Rutledge that lay at the foot of the hill from the castle. I've got to do something about this, he thought to himself as he passed the cottars along the road. They all toiled in their stump-filled fields, their movements only half-hearted. What kind of existence is this for a man and his family? He wondered.

  After he found Meg, after he made everything right between them, be damned if he wasn't going to deal with his uncle concerning the poverty of the cottars. Even if it took most of his inheritance, he was going to help these people, to force his uncle to help them. After all, if the Earl of Rutledge didn't have any children, and he doubted he would at his age, then the cottars were really Kincaid's responsibility, weren't they?

  As Kincaid passed a man walking through a field with his hoe on his shoulder, Kincaid waved. The man immediately glanced behind him, looking to see who Kincaid waved to. Then, realizing who it was, the farmer lifted his hand in astonishment, smiling hesitantly.

  Kincaid tipped his hat and went on. The road was flanked with thatch and lime-washed cottages all in various stages of decline. The children that peeked through the doorways and from behind moldy haystacks appeared thin, their eyes dull.

  "What a crime," Kincaid muttered. "To allow families to live like this."

  "My lord?"

  Kincaid looked over to see an old, hunchbacked woman coming out of one of the cottages. "My lord!"

  He pulled back on the reins, recognizing the peasant. "Mavis."

  She hurried toward him, dragging a girl in a blue dress along after her. The girl appeared frightened. "My lord, something's about in the castle."

  Kincaid glanced up the road at the monstrous stone structure at the top of the hill. "What are you talking about? I haven't time. I'm looking for someone. A woman. Perhaps she even passed through here."

  "Aye. Seen a woman." The midwife looked up at Kincaid. "My granddaughter, she did." She gave the girl a push. "Tell 'is lordship what ye know, child. Hurry and be out with it. It could mean a life."

  Kincaid swung out of his saddle so as not to intimidate the girl any further. What was Mavis babbling about? Whose life? "You saw a woman with brown hair, green eyes?" he asked the little girl. "Are you saying she passed through here? You saw her?"

  "Lady Surrey," the child whispered, wide eyed, in awe of Kincaid. "Slept in my bed last night beside me. We shared bread and tea this morning."

  "Meg," Kincaid whispered. He took the girl gently by the shoulders, stooping so that he could look her in the eyes. "And where did Lady Surrey go this morning? Where did she say she was going after she left you?"

  When the girl didn't answer immediately, he looked at Mavis. "What's her name?"

  "Annie."

  "Annie." He looked back at the girl. "This is very important. I must know where Lady Surrey said she was going."

  "The churchyard."

  "Of course." He looked up in the direction of the church. But she wouldn't still be there. It wouldn't make sense. She couldn't still be there. It was already after noon.

  "I seen many an evil thing in that house," Mavis muttered. "Many an evil. Said he'd cut my tongue out if I told, but what do I need a tongue for?"

  Kincaid stood, looking at Mavis. "Mavis, I'm in a hurry. What do you speak of? What evil? Who's going to cut your tongue out?"

  "Let him." She spat on the ground. "I seen enough. No more. I won't stand silent 'nother day."

  Kincaid grew impatient. "Mavis, make sense. Do you know what happened to Lady Surrey? Do you know where she's gone, or who might know?"

  The midwife looked down at the girl, prodding her. "Tell 'is lordship what you seen when you was hidin' behind the church." She laid her hand on the little girl's head. "Tell im."

  Annie turned to Kincaid. "He . . . he hit her."

  Kincaid's mouth went dry. He would kill him, whoever he was. "Someone hit Lady Surrey?"

  Annie nodded solemnly. "The one with the ugly face. The earl."

  Kincaid swore a French oath under his breath. How the hell had his uncle gotten back here from London so quickly? Had he s
omehow known Meg was coming? "When? Where? I must have the details if I'm going to find her."

  "This morning." She stared at him with her clear blue eyes. "We went to the baby's grave and I was playing. Only then the earl came and I was afraid, so I hid."

  "That was smart," Kincaid said softly. "You're a smart girl. Now tell me what happened to Lady Surrey."

  "He shouted at her. She hollered back. I couldn't hear what they was saying, but she was awful mad. It was somethin' about the baby."

  Kincaid would have smiled at the thought of Meg standing up to Percival if the situation hadn't been so dire. "Go on," he urged. "Tell me what happened then, Annie."

  "Then she ran. That's when he hit her with his walking stick and she fell over in the grass. Then she didn't move anymore."

  Kincaid stood up, so angry he couldn't see clearly. He took a deep breath, careful not to scare the child. He didn't want her to think she'd done anything wrong. "And what did he do then?"

  She pointed toward the castle. "Put her on his horse and took her up the hill."

  Kincaid grabbed his horse's reins. "He took her to Rutledge Castle? Not somewhere else. You're sure of that?"

  She nodded solemnly. "I watched him lead his horse up the hill and then I ran down to find Grandmother and tell her. She was deliverin' a baby, but I found her."

  "You did the right thing, Annie." He climbed into his saddle. "Thank you," he said, as he lifted his reins. "Bless you." Then he sunk his heels into the horse's flanks and barreled up the hill to the place he swore he would never return.

  Please, God, he prayed as he rode uphill. Don't let her be dead. Please, don't let him have already killed her.

  Kincaid pushed open the front door and stepped into the hallway. "Rutledge?" he called. He was so angry that his voice came low and laced with steel. "Where the hell are you?"

  He heard footsteps and the servant Sam appeared. "M . . . my Lord Surrey. It . . . it's good to see you again so . . . so soon. We . . . weren't expecting you again."

  "Where is she?" He took a step toward the man. "Lady Surrey."

  Sam cringed, obviously thinking Kincaid was going to strike him. "L . . . lady Surrey?" He looked confused. "G . . . gone. Gone, of course."

  Kincaid grabbed Sam's sleeve. "She's not here? You've not seen her?"

  "N . . . not since that d . . . day, my lord. She went up . . . upstairs for the lying-in." The servant's entire body shook with fear. "And . . . and we never saw her again. N . . . none of us saw her leave after . . . after she k . . . killed him, my lord."

  Kincaid tried to be patient. This man had nothing to do with any of this. He knew that. He just wanted to be certain Sam hadn't seen Meg. "Look, Sam, calm yourself. I'm not going to strike you. It's just that I have reason to believe Lady Surrey returned here to Rutledge. Last night. This morning she was seen at the churchyard."

  "And . . . and you think she might 'ave come here?" Sam asked, wide eyed. "That . . . that wouldn't make much sense, would it m'lord. You . . . you and his lordship lookin' for her . . ."

  "I'm not saying it makes any sense. I'm just telling you she was seen in the village last night and at the churchyard this morning. She didn't just disappear into the air, Sam. She's got to be here somewhere."

  He clasped his hands. "Well, I . . . I 'aven't seen 'er, I can tell you that my lord."

  Kincaid brushed past him, going down the hall. "Where's my uncle? His library?"

  Sam ran after him. I think so, my lord. Only . . . only he said he wasn't to be disturbed."

  They reached his uncle's closed door and Kincaid opened it without a knock.

  "I told you I didn't want to be disturbed, Higgins!" Rutledge shrieked from inside.

  Sam took a step back into the hall, covering his ears.

  "Where the hell is she?" Kincaid strode into the library with an air of authority.

  Percival looked up from his desk where he had been writing correspondence. "So good you could return, nephew. We weren't expecting you to return, but it's a pleasant surprise." He set down his quill. "Now where is who?"

  "You know who. Meg." He exhaled. "Margaret. My father's wife."

  Kincaid could have sworn his uncle blanched.

  "Where is Lady Surrey?" Rutledge said after barely a second's hesitation. "Where, indeed?" He appeared to recover quickly. "I thought that was what you and I were trying to find out back in London."

  Kincaid walked to his uncle's desk and leaned on it so that his face was only inches from Percival's. "This isn't going to work. You were seen."

  The earl pulled back a little, at least slightly intimidated. "I was seen where? You're not making sense, nephew." He looked up. "Close the futtering door!" he shouted.

  The door slammed shut from outside, closed by Sam who was obviously trying to make himself invisible.

  "I'm making perfect sense and you damned well know it," Kincaid didn't allow his uncle to break eye contact this time. "She was here, at the churchyard," he went on evenly, "and you were seen arguing with her."

  Rutledge gave a little laugh. "If I had seen the chit, I'd have had her detained and arrested." He laughed again, but this time his voice was even less convincing. "Surely you don't think—"

  Kincaid slammed his hand down hard on the desk, silencing the earl in mid-sentence. "If you've killed her, so help me, I swear on my mother's grave, your life is forfeit, uncle."

  Then Kincaid spun around and strode out of the library. He'd not waste his time mincing words with his uncle another minute. He'd find Meg himself.

  The earl followed Kincaid close behind. "What is your sudden interest in Margaret?"

  Kincaid headed straight for the twisting grand staircase. Perhaps he had locked her in one of the rooms. He'd search the entire house top to bottom, and if she wasn't inside he'd look outside. She had to be here.

  He only prayed he'd find her soon enough.

  "I said what is your interest? What would make you think she was here?"

  At the top of the stairs Kincaid began opening and closing doors, moving down the hallway in a systematic fashion. If she was here, he would find her. "Meg! Meg are you here?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the gray stone walls. "Meg!"

  "And why are you calling Margaret Meg? I believe you owe me an explanation."

  Kincaid looked inside a door and then slammed it shut, moving on to the next. "I don't owe you jack shit." He cupped his hand around his mouth. "Meg! Meg, answer me if you can. I'm here! I've come for you, sweetheart."

  Rutledge hurried after Kincaid, sometimes being forced to run to catch up. "Sweetheart? You call your father's murderess sweetheart? Do you know her?" Now he seemed genuinely concerned. "Please, James, tell me you've not become involved with your stepmother!"

  "Meg? Meg?" Kincaid reached the end of the hall and turned back. For a moment he stood in indecision, knowing it was important that he not panic. She was here, he knew she was. He just hadn't located her yet. He had to think logically. She wasn't in the east wing. He'd check the west next.

  He started in that direction. Perhaps his uncle locked her up in the nursery. That was a remote part of the castle. It would make sense to put her there.

  "James!" The earl put himself in front of Kincaid, forcing him to halt halfway to the nursery. "I demand that you stop this nonsense this moment! I want an explanation and I want one this instant." He stomped his foot like a disobedient child.

  Kincaid wanted to punch him in the face. It was all he could do to contain himself, but what mattered right now was Meg. Kincaid couldn't let anything get in the way of finding her. Meg was who was important, not the earl, not himself. Meg.

  Kincaid pushed his way past his uncle. "Meg!" he started shouting again. "Meg, where are you?"

  He found the nursery door unlocked and his heart sank. He checked the rooms just to be sure, but she wasn't there, either. He went back down the hallway, headed for the central staircase.

  "There, are you satisfied, James?" The earl was sweating profusely.
He was obviously nervous. To Kincaid, he looked guilty as hell. "She's not here. The little slut is not in my household. Now stop this nonsense and tell me how you know the jade."

  Kincaid spun around, feeling as if he might explode. He knotted his fists, holding them to his sides, fearing he was going to lose his temper and strike the pathetic man down. "Don't say that again," he threatened. "Else I warn you, you'll regret it the rest of your days."

  "You're crazy," Percival shrieked, throwing up his arms. "As crazy as Margaret."

  Kincaid turned and grasped his uncle's arm. "As crazy as Margaret? You say that as if you've seen her. As if you've spoken to her."

  "I said nothing of the kind!" Percival back-pedaled. "I only meant—"

  "You meant—"

  The sound of a woman's voice downstairs brought the conversation to an abrupt halt.

  "My lord! My lord. I know where she is! My Lord Surrey, are you there?"

  "Mavis?"

  Kincaid rushed toward the landing. From the open landing he saw below the old woman running toward the stairs with Higgins in pursuit.

  "Stop her!" Percival shouted from behind Kincaid. "Stop her, Higgins! Shut her up!"

  The old woman reached the staircase and started up, moving rather agilely for a woman her age. "The bastard!" she shouted. "He's got her. Got 'er just like I said!"

  Higgins grabbed Mavis's black skirt and began to drag the old woman down, but Mavis managed to detach herself and moved up the stairs again.

  Kincaid started down the staircase, but she was still a full level below him. "Let her go, Higgins!" he shouted. "Else it'll be your head!"

  "Stop her!" The earl ran behind Kincaid, holding his hand to his chest. "Shut her up, Higgins. Do you hear me? Shut the witch up! She'll ruin everything. She'll ruin it all!"

  "She's there, my lord," Mavis called up to Kincaid. "I seen him goin' to check on her, the eel."

  Kincaid raced down the steps. "Where, Mavis? Where is she?"

  Just then, Higgins caught Mavis around the waist and pulled a knife from his coat.

  Kincaid heard the old woman cry out in pain. He turned on the center landing, out of view of her for an instant. By the time he came around on the landing he saw Higgins rolling down the stairs. Mavis stood on her own two feet, bleeding from the arm, but with the knife clutched in her own hands.