Throughout the day, she had seen only the two men: the swarthy driver and Edmund. They both carried weapons and their physical stature made it unlikely that she could escape without harm. But they had to sleep sometime.
The old lodge creaked as she eased into the upper corridor. The ancient wood stretched and crackled like an old man rising from a nap. Stripped of most of their furniture and hangings, the walls and floors echoed every noise. Eileen’s soft shoes made less sound than the boards she walked on.
Her muscles ached abominably from the prior night’s ride, and her hands burned from the rawness of chapping, but these inconveniences were minor compared to the danger Edmund posed. She had not liked the way he gloated in her presence, and his callous disregard to the comfort of the infants made her wary of his intentions. She knew he meant to extort money from Drake and Lord Westley. She feared what he intended afterward.
The stairs creaked as she edged down them, seeking the less worn places.
She had never seen the front door open, and she checked it as she came down the stairs. Made of heavy, hand-hewn timbers, it appeared to be firmly lodged in its frame. A heavy wooden bar would have to be removed before it could be opened. Eileen suspected the old wood would be warped and unmovable, which was why her captors used the rear.
Moving silently as she had learned to do in childhood, Eileen crept toward the kitchen. The downstairs held only two rooms. The driver must sleep in the stable with the horses. She hoped Edmund had found repose in the other upstairs chamber. She had heard him there earlier.
No lamp or fire burned in the flagstone-and-timber kitchen. Other than a few embers in the ashes, complete darkness obscured all but the lighter gray of the windows. Eileen hesitated, trying to remember the exact position of the tables and chairs. The door would be between the two windows.
She located the table’s solidity to guide her. Her toe bumped a chair leg, and she muffled an exclamation of surprise more than pain.
A second later a flint struck between the two windows, and Edmund’s face appeared in the glare as he lit a candle wick. The contours appeared even more evil in shadow, with only his bodiless visage illuminated. Eileen controlled her gasp, but her fingers bit into the splintery wood of the table.
“Sleepwalking, my dear?” Edmund inquired. “It’s a dangerous practice. I do not recommend it.”
Boldly Eileen lied, “I was hungry. I am not accustomed to living on the slovenly gruel you serve as food.”
Edmund laughed. “You will have to endure with the rest of us until your husband comes forth with his gold. Go back to bed and don’t try this again.”
As the candle flame grew stronger, Eileen could see that Edmund sat in a chair propped against the room’s only escape. She would have to shoot him and climb over his body to escape.
“Will you let us go, then?” She had to ask. She would not trust his words so much as the way in which they were said.
Edmund eyed her dubiously and snorted at her question.
“I would be doing Drake a favor to give you to the gypsies in the woods beyond, but the fool probably will not see it that way. I am still debating. You are a complication I had not counted on.”
“But the babies? Surely you will return them?” Eileen asked anxiously. If there were truly gypsies in the woods, she would not put it past this monster to sell the babies.
“It will be convenient to have my son inherit Westley’s wealth. If you had simply let me have him when I requested it, you would have been spared this inconvenience. Now I will have to forego my negotiations with Westley and go to the Continent after all. Drake would never allow me to remain here after this. That’s a problem I have yet to resolve. Go to bed and don’t anger me by trying any more of your tricks.”
His tone was curt bordering on abusive. Eileen left him there, her heart pounding with fear. It did not sound as if he meant to release her or Richard. His hatred of Drake would force him to cause as much pain as he could. She did not think cold-blooded murder quite his style, but the threat of the gypsies would be. He would sell her son, and she might never see him again. If he were not quite so clever, he would sell her, too, but the rape that would most certainly mean would not keep her from escaping with Richard. Drake would follow him to the ends of the earth if he did that. No, he would have to leave Drake in uncertainty. Eileen could not imagine what path that would take but death would be the intent.
She slept little that night, and dawn brought the certainty that she would have to disarm Edmund if they were to escape. If it had not been winter, she could have invented some excuse to go out in the overgrown yard. She doubted if she would be so lucky as to find nightshade there, but henbane perhaps, if the kitchen garden had ever grown medicinal herbs. Only the seeds would be usable this time of year. They would be difficult to disguise in Edmund’s food, but he might ingest enough to render him ill. But she had no conviction she would recognize the plant without the leaves.
It was a start, though. There had to be some weapon she could use if she just kept her wits about her. With no other plan than that in mind, Eileen lifted her squalling son from the nursemaid’s arms and sat in the chair by the window to nurse him. He quieted while her mind raced. Her love for this infant was stronger than Edmund. She would defeat him, sooner or later.
By the end of the day, her store of weapons consisted of a hefty rock hidden in her skirts after a trip to the privy, a dull knife lifted from the kitchen when she prepared their coarse meal of cheese and bread, and a goose feather she had found lodged between kitchen wall and floor. They did not make a formidable array, but Eileen refused to be discouraged. Drake would be searching for them by now. She need only find some way to signal him, or disarm Edmund so she could run for help.
One or the other seemed imperative when Edmund invited Eileen to join him for the evening meal. His confidence could only mean that he expected the ransom to be paid soon. She had heard the driver ride out earlier. His horse was back in the yard now. He had heard from someone.
She sipped at the concoction Edmund called tea and listened with only half an ear as he droned on about his plans to travel in Italy. Perhaps if Drake had found him a position in Italy instead of the colonies, Edmund would not have felt compelled to carry out these mad schemes. He seemed to have an abhorrence for the “savages” in the Americas.
Lack of sleep these past nights made her lids heavy, and Eileen fought to stay awake. She had to learn what his plans were, what he had found out today, but she was unable to force her tongue to turn the conversation. It took all her strength just to hold her head up. Edmund’s monotone made it worse. Lord, but he was the most boring conversationalist she had ever heard. Could he speak of naught but himself?
She wished for a glass of cool spring water instead of this muck he forced upon her. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, and she pushed the cup away with distaste. Edmund solicitously offered more.
“You do not look well. Let me add a little brandy to your tea and see if that does not make you stronger.” He produced a flask from his pocket and poured a thimbleful of the liquor into her cup.
Eileen studied the cup, then dragged her gaze back to Edmund’s unfathomable dark eyes. “You have heard from Drake?”
Satisfaction flickered in the depths of his eyes. “We will retrieve the gold on the morrow. It was a pity I couldn’t demand enough to break him, but I needed it immediately, and it would have taken him too much time to gather more.”
“And us? You will leave us here for Drake to find?” That would be easiest, but even her sleep-blurred mind knew Edmund had no inclination for simplicity.
His smile widened. “The nurse and my son, yes. They will go back to Westley. As I’ve told you before, you present more of a problem. Drake will not be content to let me live in peace after this. I need insurance, and you will be it. It will drive him mad with rage, but he will not be able to reach me without going through you. Who knows? Perhaps you will learn to prefer my company to his. So m
any things can happen in a day’s time, and we will have weeks. Perhaps months. Until Drake agrees to leave me alone.”
Her head buzzed oddly, and Eileen was not quite certain she heard him rightly, but she shook her head in what she meant to be vehemence. “Never. I will not go with you. I will scream. Someone will hear.”
Edmund chuckled and pressed her hands around the tea cup. “Have another drink, my dear.”
When she resisted, he forced the cup to Eileen’s lips until the warm liquid slid from the corners of her mouth and trickled down her throat, and she discovered she had no strength with which to fight him. Groggily she twisted her head, trying to avoid whatever poison the tea contained, but gradually the remainder of the tea poured down her throat and chin, and she sagged, with only Edmund’s arm to hold her upright.
He lifted as he would a rag doll, and she felt the crisp wool of his coat rub her cheek. His voice vibrated through her head from inside his chest as he spoke.
“Hear me now, my lady. You will fit quite nicely in the trunk I will have delivered to my cabin. No one will see you. No one will hear you. As you have already seen, I can keep the drug down you for as long as is necessary for us to escape. If you learn to behave, we can travel more comfortably. The choice is yours.”
Eileen restlessly pawed the satin of his waistcoat, but her motion scarcely disturbed his stride. Within minutes he had deposited her on a bed she did not recognize, in a room that did not contain her son. The door closed, and she could not raise her head to scream.
Chapter 31
The sound of guitar music brought pleasant dreams. Drake’s eyes hovered over her, laughing, loving. She reached out to him, wanting to touch the strong muscle of his jaw. It had been so long, so terribly long since she had lain in his arms and felt his kisses. She yearned for the hard pressure of his chest against hers, the whispered words that made her soul rise and her body hunger.
His laughter turned diabolical, and she cringed, knowing her inadequacy. A marchioness! She had dared think she could be a marchioness! Her head filled with the laughter, and she twisted against the pillows, fighting it, striving to escape, to run, to find the home and safety she had never known. Always it was just over the next hill, and her legs were so tired, she could hardly lift them. She needed sleep, so sleepy. If she could just sleep a while longer. . .
Again the strains of guitar lifted her from lethargy. Who played a guitar? Startled, Eileen’s dreams fled. She could not move, but her thoughts tumbled. Perhaps the drug had not been so strong as Edmund anticipated, or he had spilled more than he thought. She opened her mouth to test her ability to scream but thought better of it. He would come with more of that filthy tea. Perhaps it was later than she thought. Had he gone to find his gold then? Was that why he drugged her?
The possibility that Edmund might have left the house roused Eileen’s confused mind more thoroughly than a splash of cold water. She had to find the babies.
With effort, she found her feet and dragged them to the side of the bed. Her head felt as if someone had installed an anvil in it and was beating upon it with an iron mallet. She could not lift the anvil, and the mallet was pure torture. Perhaps if she sat upright. . .
She swayed on the bed’s edge. All her senses warned her to lie back down. But the thought of her son kept her upright. She stood, then felt as if she would tilt and hit the floor from the weight of the anvil on her shoulders, but she made one foot move. And then the other. Right. Left. Until she reached the door.
Breathing a sigh of relief as the door handle turned, Eileen hung onto it and eased the door open. The balancing act of standing and opening seemed beyond her, but, clinging to door and frame, she managed it. Unable to think beyond her next step, she ceased to worry about Edmund’s whereabouts. His door was at the end of the hall, she knew.
The babes were across the hall. The door opened with just as much difficulty, but this time, the young nursemaid was there to help. With quiet exclamations she caught Eileen and led her to the bed, managing the difficulty of opening and closing the door with surprising ease.
“Prop the chair under the latch,” she whispered to the maid, gesturing at a wooden chair near the hearth.
The guitar music was louder in this room, filling the air with quiet ripples. Eileen looked questioningly to the village girl. As she arranged the chair, she nodded at the window and whispered, “Gypsies.”
Gypsies. Come to buy Richard. Eileen staggered to her feet again and leaned against the window. It took awhile before her foggy eyes could decipher shapes and shadows. The underbrush had grown into thickets and brambles all around the lodge, creating a nearly impenetrable barrier. Gradually, she discerned a man’s shape leaning against a tree just beyond the perimeter of the overgrown yard. He seemed small for a gypsy. Not as fearsome as she had expected.
Was it possible? Could she turn this stranger from foe to friend? No others strayed this far from the road. It might be her last chance to communicate with the world.
Knowing she was not thinking clearly but thankful she was thinking at all, Eileen motioned for the maid to bring her the writing box that had been left on the dresser. She had examined it earlier and found the ink long since dried and all paper gone but a scrap at the bottom, but she had the goose quill now. Maybe. . .
Trickling a few drops of water from the washbasin into the inkpot and shaking it, Eileen prayed it would produce color. She pushed the quill into the wet mixture and laboriously transferred it to the corner of vellum. She had no idea what to say. Words failed her at the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times. Only Drake’s name came to mind. She wanted him here with her.
“Bring Lord Sherburne. Reward.” It just fit on the scrap of paper, though her shaky penmanship left much to be desired. She prayed the gypsy could read.
Still fighting lethargy, Eileen gestured for the girl to bring her the rock. Tearing a strip of lace from her petticoat, she knotted the message to the rock. So far, so good.
Now she had to catch the attention of the man out in the woods. She did not know if he was even aware of their existence. Eileen hefted the heavy rock in her hand and glanced up to the window. The effort it would take to coordinate rising from the bed, opening the window, and heaving the rock seemed more than she could bear.
As Eileen staggered upright, the nursemaid grasped her goal. Relieving her of the rock, she opened the warped and ancient window, rocking its leaden weights until they held their breaths in fear. Gradually, between them, they shoved the window to a height sufficient for the maid to lean out.
“I’m good at throwin’, milady,” the maid whispered. “You want me to hit him?”
“Catch his attention,” Eileen said, nodding.
The heavy missile struck the unsuspecting musician on the shoulder blade, and they could hear his curse as he swung around to find his attacker.
Eileen gasped as a shred of moonlight caught his face. Teddy! In an improbable black wig and garbed in leather jerkin and loose blouse, he was still unmistakably the fey musician who followed Drake about like a wandering minstrel. Not finding an immediate assailant, he glanced up to the window where she stood. She could not divine whether he saw her or not, but he seemed to salute before turning to retrieve the rock and trotting out of sight.
Galvanized by the realization that Drake must be near, Eileen shook off enough of her stupor to take the next step. The babies must be out of the house and hidden. They were much too easy a target. She caught at the sheet on the bed, shifting the sleeping infants to the bare mattress as she pulled the covers from beneath them.
Not quite understanding Eileen’s intentions but following whispered orders, the maid helped rip and tear the old sheet into wide strips. The infants didn’t weigh much. With careful construction the old sheet tied to the blanket might make a safe cradle to lower them.
No one came to investigate the noise they were making. Vaguely Eileen wondered if she ought to see if Edmund had left, but she doubted
her ability to navigate the corridor or stairs. One small task at a time kept her awake; the drug had not yet left her system. She moved with difficulty, and her head hurt too much to think clearly. She mindlessly ripped and knotted the sheets.
With that task complete, Eileen felt the urge to collapse beside the sleeping babes. Drake would come and all would be fine. She need only rest her head for a little while.
A sharp whistle beneath the window warned her task was not yet finished. She peered into the darkness, searching for the barely discernible shapes in the underbrush. They all looked like gypsies. She could see dark hair, the occasional glitter of gold, the flash of white sleeves as they crept under the window. One wearing a red bandana around his hair stared intently upward, obviously commanding the others. Eileen sagged with relief against the window frame as she recognized the square cut of his jaw with its deep cleft. Drake.
No flashing smile greeted her this time as she leaned out to signal him to wait. She turned back into the room and motioned for the maid to bring the infants. He was angry and Eileen knew she should be fearful, but she could not summon the emotion.
As the two women lowered their precious burdens from the window, Drake signaled two of the other figures in the trees to come forward. It was a reckless, mad thing they did. Edmund could come upon them at any moment. The ropes could break. The babies could tilt or tumble as the makeshift cradle lowered.
Drake grabbed Richard as soon as he could reach him. The babe gave a surprised cry as his father hugged him with passionate relief. From above, Eileen watched this reunion with strange detachment. The look on Drake’s face as his child reached out to tap his nose should have brought tears of joy to her eyes. Instead, she felt only the familiar isolation of loneliness.
Drake passed his son on to the man behind him and waited for the second child. George was larger and more active, and the nursemaid had to tie him into the blanket to be certain he would not roll over and tumble out. Drake caught him safely and passed him to his men.
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