by Danice Allen
After the initial shock and the wrenching surge of empathy she felt for her little sister’s probable terror at finding herself lost in utter stifling darkness, Beth steeled herself and gathered strength to assist in Gabby’s successful rescue. She would not entertain thoughts of any other possible outcome. And she would not dwell on the reason for Gabby’s sudden desire to explore the depths of a damp tin mine. She suspected that the impressionable child had gone looking for knackers, but Beth ruthlessly suppressed the angry feelings that accompanied this thought. She would deal with all these feelings later, after Gabby was found safe and sound.
“Thank you for telling me the truth without a lot of beating about the bush, Alex,” she said, lifting her chin determinedly. She thought she saw relief in his expression and was encouraged by his obvious approval of her unruffled manner. “What are your plans? I suppose the servants have told you that there are several tunnels belonging to each mine and that they meander for miles? And you must have observed that the walls are quite unstable from years of disuse.”
Though she’d meant to stay calm, acknowledging to Alex the problem of searching the serpentine tunnels that snaked through the earth in all directions, and the very real possibility of the walls collapsing, sent a shiver of misgiving down Beth’s back. Poor Gabby could be anywhere by now, and she might be hurt!
Alex’s hands still cupped her shoulders, and he must have felt the telltale shudder ripple her rigidly held spine. Squeezing her upper arms reassuringly, he said, “We’ve as many servants as there are tunnels, and just to make sure no one else gets lost, we’ve devised a means of marking our way. It would be best if we could speak with the miners who worked this particular mine, since they would remember its various twists and turns, but so far I can’t seem to—”
“Zach!” Beth exclaimed, struck with a sudden inspiration. “Zach used to play in the mines when he was a boy. Against his grandfather’s strict orders, of course. He was punished more than once for disobeying that particular rule. Possibly he knows this mine and could help us reason out exactly where Gabby might be. At the least, he could make sure we don’t miss some small chamber where she might have curled up in a ball and cried herself to sleep.”
“I had assumed you’d want Zach here, anyway,” Alex said matter-of-factly, his expression neutral. “I’ve already sent Dudley to fetch him.”
“Oh, you know precisely where he is, then?” Beth said, surprised. “At this hour I suppose he’s eating dinner at the Nag’s Head Inn. Is that where you sent Dudley?”
“I don’t know precisely where he is,” Alex said, his eyes averted from the searching look in hers, “but I’m sure Dudley can locate him by making inquiries.”
Beth’s brows drew together. “Indeed, I can’t think why he stays so long in town. It couldn’t have taken him more than a few minutes to buy me a present and purchase new gloves for himself, as he said he meant to do. I suppose he’s run into another friend, and as you said before, he’s chirping merry over a tankard of ale—the wretch. But I shall be glad of his help, even though if it were not for him …” Beth’s voice trailed off. Criticizing Zach to Alex seemed disloyal.
“What about your mother?” Alex asked, changing the subject abruptly.
“I came downstairs to fetch her some laudanum to relax her. I will dose her liberally, and perhaps she’ll sleep till Gabby’s found. If she finds out what’s happened, she’ll become quite hysterical, you know. After she’s dozed off, I’ll leave a maid with her and join you at the mine. Please don’t argue with me,” she hastily added, impulsively laying her palms against his chest in a beseeching manner. “I want to be there. Gabby will have need of me.”
Alex looked down at the small hands pressed against his chest, and despite the trouble they were presently caught up in, his memory tumbled back to that moment on the beach when Beth had slipped her warm, trembling fingers inside his shirt. She had been so innocently seductive in her tentative exploration, so curious, so sensual. He had responded as he’d never responded to any other woman, even a skilled courtesan.
Suddenly Beth removed her hands, and Alex lifted his eyes to her face and saw guilt imprinted on every delicate feature. Anger flared inside him—anger toward Zach, who was betrothed to this unusually sensitive and beautiful woman and had the gall to neglect her for the charms of a mistress. Did Zach truly deserve Beth’s loyalty, Beth’s love? And if Beth knew of Tess, would she still feel guilty?
“I must go to my mother right away,” Beth said, interrupting the nagging questions that had plagued Alex constantly since their meeting on the beach. Beth kept her eyes averted. “If I’m gone too long, she’ll work herself into a frenzy.” She hesitated for a moment, snatched a furtive look at Alex, then walked past him toward the kitchen door.
“I’ll have one of the men stay behind so that he can guide you to the mine when you’re ready,” Alex said to her back.
Beth’s hand was on the doorknob, but she turned her head slightly, the sweep of lowered dusky lashes visible against her pale cheek. “Thank you, Alex.” Then she was gone.
Dudley snapped the whip above the gelding’s red-roan back and cursed fluently, the wind snatching his epithets and tossing them away. His coppery hair snapped in the gusting air like the flame of a torch. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and flying panicles of dirt lodged in the corners of his eyes and mouth. He peeled a dead blood-bloated mosquito from his forehead and another from his cheek, then shuddered delicately as he wiped his sticky fingers on his white breeches.
This is not what a gentleman’s gentleman does for a living, he told himself grimly. He ought to be home pressing his lordship’s cravats in preparation for the evening’s change of attire. But instead he was dashing hey-go-mad across the desolate Cornish countryside in the sweltering heat of an early summer’s evening to fetch Zachary Wickham from the arms of a ladybird!
Dudley could not remember the last time he’d felt so unequal to a task. Or so thoroughly disheveled and unclean! But circumstances dictated that he drive the open gig with all due haste, and such haste was not conducive to an orderly appearance. But he could understand why Lord Roth had asked him to fetch Zachary and not trusted the errand to one of the Pencarrow underlings. Indeed, his chest swelled with pride at the confidence his master placed in him to carry a message to Zach and be relied upon not to repeat what he’d seen or heard. Too bad that such confidence had to be reinforced in such an uncomfortable manner.
Presently he entered the town and slowed his horse to an easy trot. Lord Roth could not be precise about the whereabouts of the cottage, for he had gleaned only a general idea of its location from tidbits of conversation with his brother. So Dudley would be required to further demean himself by stopping at the Nag’s Head Inn to make discreet inquiries. Depending on the disposition and mood of the inn’s proprietor, it could be a simple task to discover the directions to the little dovecote, or Dudley could be thrown out on his ear.
Once he’d obtained directions to the cottage, Dudley would still have to face the ordeal of interrupting Lord Roth’s brother when he’d least appreciate an intrusion. God only knew what Master Zachary and his light-o’-love would be doing when Dudley knocked upon the door, but though he was only a mortal, Dudley could conjure up some alarming possibilities.
As it happened, the proprietor was a jovial fellow and readily and without question supplied Dudley with the information he needed. Encouraged by this success, Dudley headed for the cottage in a slightly more optimistic frame of mind.
Located on the northern outskirts of town, the cottage was a small Elizabethan structure surrounded by a flourishing garden that had been planted with picturesque disorder. Dudley jumped down from the gig and tethered the sweating horse to a rail of the neat picket fence that surrounded the cottage. He combed his carroty hair with skinny freckled fingers, gave his jacket lapels a straightening tug, and walked through the gate and up the cobbled walk to the door, which was overhung with trellised honeysuckle vi
nes. Sighing deeply, he knocked.
Dudley waited, tapping an impatient rhythm with his foot against the flagstone porch. He heard bees buzzing lazily through the garden and a woodpecker applying his beak to a nearby tree. Calming sounds, but not today, and not for Dudley. When several moments had passed and no one came to the door, Dudley walked around to the side of the house, saw Zachary Wickham’s dapple gray stallion standing alongside a white mare in the open stable, and returned to the door. He knocked again, this time harder.
As several moments passed again, Dudley began to chew on his bottom lip with energy. He had to speak with Zach. This was possibly a matter of life or death! If he was forced to climb through a window to accomplish his mission, he would do so, dash it! But perhaps the door was open. Dudley reached for the knob and turned it gently, carefully, to the right. Ah, it was unlocked! But—Good God, now what?
Suddenly the door squeaked open, and Dudley was sighing with relief that he wouldn’t have to charge in upon an entwined couple in the throes of passion, when his breath caught at the vision before him. Hair like spun gold haloed a heart-shaped face of fragile beauty. Eyes as blue as cornflowers stared at him, shy, vulnerable. One dewy shoulder peeked above the bright flower-printed coverlet she clutched close to her body with pink, curled fingers—small, waiflike fingers.
“What do you want, sir?” she asked him in a soft, timid voice.
Dudley endeavored to collect himself. He had not expected the doxy to look so pure and innocent, to be so young and delicate. “I’m … I’m here to … to see Mr. Zachary Wickham,” he stuttered, his eyes flitting past her distractingly bared shoulder to probe into the room behind her. But all was silent, and no small movement stirred the deepening afternoon shadows that fell across the muted purple tones of the rug that partially covered the floor. The girl lifted her chin slightly as though gathering resolve to tell a lie, to carry out her instructions and tell him her lover wasn’t there. Dudley hastily continued, “I’ve an urgent message from his brother.”
The young woman’s eyes widened, her budlike mouth opening in surprise. Now there was sound and movement from behind her, a creak of bed boards and then the whisper of cloth as Zachary Wickham no doubt pulled on his trousers. “It’s all right, Tessy, let him in,” Dudley heard him say as she stepped back and opened the door wide, then padded away to curl up on the rumbled bed. Wrenching his eyes away from the ethereal creature called Tessy—an inadequate name, in his opinion—Dudley entered the house and turned to his master’s brother, who stood by the bed buttoning his shirt. Dudley noticed that the scent of honeysuckle permeated the air.
“This had better be important, Dudley,” he said, his hair a golden tumble, his aureate eyes glittering a warning.
“Oh, it is, sir! You don’t think Lord Roth would send me here unless the matter was most urgent, do you? And even so, I feel devilish foolish, sir, and beg your pardon for bursting in on you like this while you’re with a … er … friend,” Dudley babbled, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “It’s Miss Gabrielle. She’s lost, sir, in a—”
Zachary’s burst of laughter jarred Dudley’s nerves and silenced him completely. “Good God, Dudley, is that all? Gabby’s lost herself on the moor at least twice already this summer! I can’t believe that Alex was so overwrought with worry that he’d fetch me away from Tessy when he knows that I …”His eyes narrowed. “Or can’t I?”
Dudley did not like the skeptical look that transformed the younger man’s face to a mask of suspicion. “Sir, you don’t understand. This time Miss Gabrielle is lost in a tin mine. She’s nowhere to be found on the moor, and her horse is tethered to a bush by the shaft of a mine. Her footprints were seen in the soft dirt near the entrance, leading into the—”
“Enough, Dudley,” Zachary rasped, all color swiftly gone from his face, his features suddenly pinched and contorted. “I perceive the urgency of the matter and will leave immediately. Can you tell me which mine it is so that I can go straight there?” He dressed quickly now, every movement purposeful and economic.
Dudley’s eyes strayed briefly to the bed to snatch a glimpse of Tessy. She, too, was as pale as the casing of her pillow. “Lord Roth made up a map for you, sir. With your knowledge of the area, I’m sure you’ll know exactly which mine it is from this sketch.” Dudley delved into his breeches pocket, pulled out a folded piece of parchment, and handed it to Zachary.
Zachary grabbed the paper, unfolded it quickly, and scanned the hastily drawn map. He threw the paper down, saying grimly, “Yes, I know it well.” Then he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, muttering, “Looking for knackers, I suppose. God curse me if she’s harmed!”
Tessy lifted a hand to rest it consolingly on Zach’s shoulder. “You’ll find her, Zach. Please don’t blame yourself!”
“I’ve no one else to blame, Tessy.” Zachary stood, his eyes meeting hers for a moment, so intense, so intimate, that Dudley turned away in embarrassment. Then Zachary walked swiftly past Dudley and through the open door without even bidding his lovely lady good-bye or good night.
Dudley knew he ought to follow without a backward glance at the girl posed like a frightened kitten on the bed. But he couldn’t help himself. He’d just met her, but compassion and concern for her precarious position as a kept woman niggled at Dudley, poking at him like an accusing finger.
He turned to look at her. Her eyes were fastened to the door through which Zachary had hastily departed. Her unblinking, childlike stare radiated love, hope, dreams that she clung to despite the grasping hands of reality. Then she turned to Dudley, as if she knew he was watching her, and behind the infantile faith reflected in her expression he saw a bone-deep weariness for having to try so hard, for having to fight so fiercely for the mite she’d stolen from life’s treasure trove of happiness.
Dudley’s heart convulsed with sympathy, for something told him there would never be more than a mite of happiness for Tessy. Not with Lord Roth’s brother. He was miles above her socially. She loved him; that was as plain as the freckles on Dudley’s face. And possibly Master Zachary loved her. But love wasn’t enough in a selfish world that spun around a complicated core of rank and money.
“’Twill be well in the end, sir,” she said. Lost in his own thoughts, Dudley was startled by Tessy’s gently spoken words. He focused his gaze on her face, saw a brave smile tug at the corners of her sweet mouth, and wondered if she was talking about Gabby’s plight or her own.
“I hope so, miss,” he replied, his sincere wish for a happy conclusion to both potentially dangerous situations lending conviction to his words. “I hope so with all my heart.” Then Dudley spun around and marched to the door, cursing the very heart he’d hung his wishes on. He was too tender, too like a woman. And it hurt too much.
The mine shaft gaped like a ravenous mouth, ready to swallow up anyone who dared probe its damp, dark mysteries. Beth stood stiffly just inches from the entrance, her arms crossed in a viselike hug, as if she could hold in all the worry, all the fear. Henry, the stableboy, stood with her, both of them staring into the three- by four-feet entrance to the mine, which had been painstakingly pounded out of the granite hillock years ago by ore-hungry tinners.
Beth knew that just past the mouth of the man-made cave the dimensions widened and heightened, allowing a man of average stature to stand upright. Alex would have to duck his head to traverse the narrow, winding passageways.
When Beth and Henry had arrived at the scene, Jem, the last of the men who’d ridden out with Alex, had been waiting impatiently for them with instructions that they were not to enter the mine for any reason. If Zach showed up—an odd thing for Alex to say, Beth thought, for why wouldn’t Zach come?—he was to wait till Alex reemerged before he conducted his own search for Gabby. He said Gabby might be found by then and on her way back to the entrance, and there was no sense in risking his life for nothing. Besides, Zach shouldn’t undertake a search by himself. There was safety in numbers.
Beth ac
knowledged the wisdom in Alex’s message, but she had no confidence in Zach’s willingness to acquiesce to such a dictum from his brother. Zach adored Gabby and would not be able to stand idly by while a rescue mission was going forth, especially since he probably felt his knowledge of the tin mines would make him most apt to find her.
Night was falling rapidly now, a crimson stain from the dying sun edging the shadowy, irregular horizon of bracken-thick moor. Beth shivered and steeled herself against the chill of a creeping sea mist—and against her own resentful feelings toward Zach.
Why hadn’t he listened to her? She had known that Gabby’s head would be crowded with creatures from Pye Thatcher’s droll and that the little girl would likely not sleep well for some time from thinking about the knackers. But even Beth had not expected Gabby to be so brave as to actually enter one of the dangerous mines to search out a gaggle of the netherworld elves.
Beth’s mouth thinned. It was thoughtless of Zach to insist that Gabby be allowed to listen to the droll. No, it was downright irresponsible! It had been arrogant of him to so breezily disregard Beth’s concern, to think of her as a fusspot. But lately Zach had been acting oddly. Indeed, his grandfather had demanded a certain amount of structure and responsibility from Zach; now that Chester Hayle was dead, perhaps Zach was feeling a heady sense of freedom and power he had not as yet learned to handle.
He’d been distracted, too, and groundless. Beth had begun to believe that Alex’s visit to Pencarrow was not the only reason for Zach’s restiveness. But whatever the cause, Zach’s behavior was beginning to wear on her patience like a dog gnawing a bone.
Beth shook herself. She had made a promise not to dwell on that problem. The most important thing at the moment was Gabby. She must be found, or Beth could take no joy from any part of life. Grief would strangle all other emotions, even resentment and anger. Passion, too.
