The Lords & Ladies Box Set

by Fenella J Miller

  The route to the village was a little over a mile and a half, the first section down the drive of the neat manor house where she was living, the next along a country lane bordered by high hedges. The dogs had vanished and she could hear them yelping with excitement as they searched for rabbits. She was laughing at their antics and unaware that a carriage was approaching until the horses were almost upon her.

  She flung herself sideways expecting the vehicle to trot past, but it halted. Before she knew what was happening the door was flung open and her arms grabbed. She was tumbled headlong inside. In the struggle the basket had gone flying. The dogs emerged from their hunt to race behind the carriage barking in protest.

  Charlotte grabbed one of the straps to hold herself on the seat. Fear clutched her heart when she saw her brother lolling on the far side of the carriage, the triumphant sneer he viewed her with did nothing for her confidence.

  'Well, sister, I have you now. Did you think I would let you slip through my fingers so easily? I shall have your money, be very sure of that.'

  'Never! Without my signature you'll get nothing; the lawyer is not prepared to hand over any of the interest unless I sign the release in his presence. That is something I shall not do.' Her voice was remarkably firm, he could not have detected how terrified she was.

  Like a snake he uncoiled and grabbed her wrist, twisting it viciously. 'Is that so? I have waited too long to allow a mere girl to stand in my way. It is against the laws of nature to give a fortune to the distaff side of the family, I cannot break the entail, but I can remove the obstacle.'

  She shrank back against the squabs nursing her bruised arm. 'You are insane, Rupert. You think you can murder me in cold blood and nobody suspect? I have friends who will find you out, and peer of the realm or not, you would hang for your crime.'

  His expression changed from anger to astonishment. He stared at her as if she was a candidate for Bedlam. 'What the devil do you take me for? You've been reading too many lurid novels, your imagination has run away with you.'

  'If you do not intend to kill me then there's no way you can have access to my trust fund.'

  He laughed; it was not a cheerful sound. 'Have you not worked it out for yourself, Charlotte? Are not the females in the family supposed to inherit all the brains whilst the males inherit the vices?'

  Her brain worked feverishly, he could not be intending to force her into marriage, the money would still remain hers. Then her hands flew to her mouth in horror.

  'I see you have understood my intention. You will do as I bid, because if you do not the children will suffer.'

  'They are your flesh and blood. You would not mistreat them, for all your bullying you have never raised a hand against anyone. I do not believe you will start doing so now. I call your bluff, Rupert. I shall not sign.'

  His eyes narrowed and she saw venom in his glance. 'You may not think me cruel today, but after you have been in my care for a day or two I believe you will change your mind.' He leant forward and she pressed herself into the seat. 'I can give you my word as a gentleman, that anything I do to you I shall do double to the brats.'

  Charlotte turned her face away, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Her absence would have been remarked upon by now, Mrs Thomas believed she was hiding from her father and would raise the alarm immediately. But this lady was absent – would Annie have the wit to send to London? How long would it take for a note to reach Mr Ditchin? Would he have the sense to go round to James and ask for help?

  When James knew she been abducted, and by whom, he would come to rescue her. Whatever his feelings about her parentage, her deception, he loved her and would not wish to see her harmed. Maybe Rupert would not begin his reign of terror immediately. He would give her time to think about the plight of the children, would no doubt remind her frequently, as he bullied her, how he would do the same to the little ones. He must be made to stay at her side, as long as he was with her the children would be safe.

  The coach turned sharply, as the blinds were drawn she could not see where they were, but from the jolting and bouncing she guessed it must be travelling along a rutted track. They had not been travelling for long, they were no more than a few miles from The Manor, this would make it less difficult for James to track her down.

  She was bundled from the carriage, not given time to look around before she was inside a damp, cold building and pushed down a slippery flight of stairs. If her brother had not had hold of her arm she would have lost her footing several times. He shoved her violently and she landed on her knees in a puddle of icy water.

  'After a night in here, my dear sister, I believe you will feel more amenable to my requests.'

  A door slammed and she heard the key turning, then she was alone in the darkness. No, not quite alone she could hear the hideous sound of scratching. The monster had locked her in an old building of some sort, a place infested with rats. She had few real fears, but a terror of rodents of any sort was one of them.

  She crawled until her hands met the oozing brickwork – this was no dwelling, there would be some chink of light from a window even if the shutters were closed. She was underground, in a cellar of some sort. Thank God she had a warm cloak and stout boots to keep her dry.

  She must stand, crouching here in the darkness she was too close to the vermin she could hear. Slowly, with one hand extended, she inched her way in what she believed to be the direction of the exit. Several times her breath stopped in her throat, her heart was beating so loudly she could scarcely think.

  Why was it taking so long to reach the stairs? Surely she was thrust forward only a few feet? She stepped sideways and her hand was waving freely, before she could regain her balance she was falling backwards into nothingness.

  Chapter Eight

  James decided he could wait no longer and must visit Charlotte's lawyers and learn her direction. He was greeted warmly and the information willingly supplied.

  'I thank you, Mr Ditchin, for your corporation in this matter. I have the directions to The Manor and intend to ride there tomorrow to see Lady Charlotte. Do you have any messages for your family that I can convey for you?'

  'I shall be visiting my sister next week, sir, I have papers for Lady Charlotte to sign. The weather is not ideal for a long ride, but as you pointed out taking your carriage will double the length of the journey.'

  James patted his waistcoat pocket as he ran down the steps outside the lawyer's office. Charlotte's ring had been there these past few days. He was now quite reconciled to her unfortunate ancestry. As his mother had quite rightly pointed out, it was hardly Charlotte's fault that she was a titled lady; one could choose one's friends but not one's family. Tomorrow he would set off at dawn, make his apologies, and a second, more ardent, proposal of marriage. His doubts were long gone – he was certain he could never be happy without her.

  It was barely light when he clattered out of the stable yard astride a newly purchased gelding, he needed a mount with stamina because he intended to make this journey often in the next few weeks. His riding coat was spread out across the hindquarters of his horse, the collar turned up around his ears in an effort to keep out the cold morning air. He did not favour the wearing of hats, thought them more a nuisance than an asset, instead he had wrapped his muffler around his head which was a far more efficient way of keeping out the elements.

  He had his route planned down to the last detail, he would cut across country and stop at a coaching inn the lawyer had recommended. At this establishment he would rest the animal and find refreshment for himself. With luck he would arrive at his destination by ten o'clock giving him ample time to spend with his darling girl before making the return journey.

  The Manor was a pretty building, exactly the sort of place he'd buy if ever he decided to move into the countryside. He swung from the saddle and patted the foam flecked neck of his horse. 'Well done, old fellow. I believe you're worth every guinea I paid for you last week.'

  He
waited with growing impatience for a groom to appear to take his mount, when none was forthcoming he pulled the reins over the animal's ears and led him through the archway to find someone to take care of the beast. The horse must be rubbed down and fed so that he would be fully recovered from his exertions when the time came to make the return journey.

  His appearance, leading his massive gelding, caused the groom to fall from the upturned bucket he was sitting on. 'I beg your pardon, sir, the mistress never said she was expecting visitors this morning.'

  James tossed him the reins. 'It is no fault of yours, for I'm not expected. Make sure my horse is well taken care of, he's cool enough to be watered and fed as soon as he's rubbed down and comfortable. I shall require him to be ready at two o'clock this afternoon.'

  The groom tugged his forelock and crooning softly to the hunter led him into the stable block. James strode round to the front of the house and rang the large brass bell hanging under the portico. There was a considerable pause before footsteps could be heard approaching. His heart was beating rapidly, he was nervous, unsure of his reception.

  The door opened and a flustered housemaid stared at him. 'Good morning, I'm Doctor Hunter come to see Miss Simpson. Is Mrs Thomas within?'

  The girl smiled. 'The mistress has gone to town, the master is abroad on business. The house is at sixes and sevens this morning, sir. Miss Simpson has just this moment left for the village, she's taking a basket of produce to an old lady who lives on the village green, the first cottage in the row opposite the duck pond. She has the two spaniels with her, sir, you'll likely hear them before you see her.'

  He was obviously not going to be invited in, he could do with a drink and somewhere to wash his hands and face before he met Charlotte. 'In which direction do I turn after I leave the drive?' As he spoke he was unbuttoning his coat as this was too heavy and cumbersome to wear whilst walking.

  'Turn left, sir, and then keep going. It's about a mile and a half, no more.'

  'Take this, make sure it's pressed and dry before I leave later today.'

  The girl staggered back under the weight of the garment and he smiled at her expression. By the end of the drive he was almost running, the stiffness in his legs forgotten in his eagerness to be reunited.

  The lane was empty; she must be around the bend her progress hidden by the high hedges. His lips curved, he could hear the dogs barking in the distance, she could not be far away. Something caught his eye on the grass verge. What was it? He crossed the lane and a sick dread filled his stomach. It was a basket, its contents spilled into the shallow ditch. He retrieved a jar of broth a plum cake and a small joint of beef and replaced them with shaking hands.

  The significance of the dogs sounding distant was now clear. Charlotte had been abducted, the earl must have discovered her whereabouts and come to snatch her. There was no time to lose, he must return to the house and find himself another mount. Clutching the basket he raced back the way he'd come, this time hurtling around the back of the house and bursting directly into the kitchen where the cook was busy chopping vegetables at the long scrubbed table.

  He slammed the basket down. 'Is this the one that Miss Simpson was carrying when she left here earlier?'

  The woman clutched her apron. 'It is, Doctor Hunter, it's a very one I handed to her not half an hour ago.'

  'Miss Simpson has been abducted, I must get after her. Who has the key to the gun cupboard?' Her mouth gaped, she did not grasp the urgency of the situation. 'I need to be armed, where's the key?'

  'I've no idea, I'm the cook, I rarely go upstairs. I do know that guns are kept in a small room next to the study.' She wiped the dough from her hands and led the way through the narrow servants passageways to emerge opposite the required door. 'You will have to break it open, sir, as there's no time to search for the key.'

  James had the matter in hand, he'd snatched up a poker as he'd left the kitchen for this very purpose. 'Stand back, I must smash the lock.' The noise of splintering wood echoed through the house to be followed immediately by running footsteps in the corridor above his head. He must be quick, he had no wish to be delayed explaining to the young ladies of the house what had happened. The cook was a sensible woman, she could do that for him.

  He grabbed a shotgun and the necessary powder and shot and was about to leave when he spotted a cavalry sword in its scabbard. He'd spent three years with Wellington plying his trade, this was a weapon he was proficient with.

  He ran for the stables the gun and sword under his arm; he shouted, hoping the groom would be quick to answer him. 'I need a fresh horse, immediately, Miss Simpson has been abducted.'

  In the time it took the groom to saddle up a massive bay he had strapped on the sword and loaded the gun, ramming the remainder of the ammunition into his jacket pocket. To his delight the servant offered to accompany him, it was worth waiting a few extra minutes to have a second man at his side.

  He tossed the shotgun to the groom who tied it expertly behind his saddle. 'I reckon they'll have to go through the village, there's no room for a carriage to turn round here. Them dogs will follow, shouldn't be too hard to pick up the trail, sir.'

  'Excellent man, you lead the way, I'll be right behind.'

  The wild gallop into the village attracted a deal of attention; James pulled his mount to a rearing halt beside a group of gaping village folk. 'Which way did the carriage go? Miss Simpson has been abducted, there's no time to lose if we are to rescue her.'

  A young man stepped forward immediately. 'They passed through here not long ago, sir, they took the left hand turn at the end of the village, there's no way they can turn off for several miles. You'll catch them easy enough on horseback.'

  'Thank you, did you see if the dogs were following?'

  'That they were, a fine pair of dogs, I doubt they'll give up until their last breath.'

  *

  Charlotte opened her eyes, but could see nothing. Had she been struck blind in the night? Why was she so cold and wet? Then she remembered where she was and bit her lip to stop the scream of terror escaping. The scratching and the rustling was closer than before. She had to get up, find her way back to the entrance, get away from the rats.

  Her head throbbed, she feared she'd cut it badly when she'd fallen. She flexed each limb in turn; apart from bruises, and the pain in the wrist that her brother had twisted, she was certain she was not seriously harmed. There was a scrabbling sound and before she could scramble upright the rodents invaded her skirts. This time she could not prevent herself, her fear overcame her fortitude, and she screamed. Once started she could not stop, all common sense vanished. She was living her worst nightmare. She beat ineffectually at her clothing in an attempt to dislodge the rats. Her heart was exploding in her chest, her throat raw, but still she could not control her fear.

  *

  James kicked the gelding and he thundered off. With one hand he checked the sword was loose in its scabbard as he had every intention of using it when he confronted the man who dared to harm the woman he loved. Killing an aristocrat would mean a hangman's nose for a commoner like him, but he'd pay that price if he was required to do so.

  The wind whistled past his ears, he crouched low, urging the horse faster. After several miles the hedges became less dense allowing him to see across the fields. A movement, on a track leading to a group of dilapidated buildings, caught his eye. He stood in his stirrups to get a better look. Yes! He had them, it was the carriage and it was still in motion.

  'Easy now, old fellow. We don't want to be seen too soon.' He reined in and turned to speak to the groom. 'See, over there, it's the carriage. Have you seen the spaniels? I can't believe they've managed to keep up for so long.'

  'They'll be somewhere close behind, they've taken a real shine to Miss Simpson. The master's away in the Indies, not expected back until next year sometime and the mistress and the young ladies are not keen on dogs. Miss Simpson has been exercising them since she came, they'll not abandon her.'


  'Dismount, if we lead the horses we'll not be spotted so easily.' Keeping close to the hedge James jogged towards the track. A faint noise in the undergrowth attracted his attention. He paused and saw the heaving body of a small black dog.

  'Take care of that one, tuck him inside your coat, your body warmth should help to save his life.'

  The groom ducked down and lifted the half dead animal. 'Poor little tyke, you come to Sam, I'll not let you perish.'

  The farm track had little cover, their approach would be seen immediately by the villains if they'd had the foresight to post a sentry. 'Sam, walk the horses, when they're cool enough find somewhere to tether them and follow me. We'll have to creep along on our bellies, upright we'll be seen immediately.'

  'Take care, sir, I'll be there directly.'

  By the time James reached the outbuildings he was soaked to the skin but certain his stealthy approach had not been detected. Straightening in the shelter of a dilapidated shed he swung the sword back to its place on his hip. The building was silent, he could just see the roof of the coach but the horses must have been taken elsewhere.

  Something brushed his leg. He froze. Then relaxed and bent down to scoop the other exhausted spaniel into his arms. The animal licked his face then wriggled as if desperate to be down. 'What is it? Do you know where she is? Good boy, take me there.'

  The dog was more mud than fur, but this made him invisible against the brick walls. Glad he'd still got his muffler, James wrapped it round his face; he recalled being told by an infantry man that soldiers reconnoitering were often killed by snipers because they failed to obscure their faces.

  He edged around the buildings following his guide. Where was he being taken? This path led away from the main building, surely they were going in the wrong direction? Then the animal dashed forward and whined at an almost hidden door. Pressing his ear against the timber he could hear nothing. Then the hair on the back of his neck stood up. A hideous, unearthly noise rent the air, the spine chilling sound echoing through the cracks in the door.