by M C Beaton
“There can be no reasonable explanation,” said Henrietta in a flat voice. “It is all part and parcel of all these strange happenings. Now he has me in his home, caged like some animal. I repeat, I shall escape.”
Both women finished their meal in silence and then turned to inspect the trunk. It contained two complete wardrobes.
“He has excellent taste,” said Miss Mattie cheerfully, her mercurial nature unable to sustain the one set of emotions for long.
Henrietta surveyed the tumbling silks and satins sourly. “He probably got one of his doxies to do the shopping for him.”
Miss Scattersworth gave a delighted giggle. “Why, Mattie,” said Henrietta sternly. “I do believe you are beginning to enjoy all this.”
“I am,” said the spinster a little defiantly. “I have thought things over and I cannot believe ill of Lord Reckford. I shall simply enjoy the adventure and if he kills me, well then, I have not so many years left after all.”
“Well, I have, you selfish baggage,” said Henrietta with a grin. “Nonetheless, I shall wear something from his lordship’s wardrobe tomorrow and I suggest you do the same. We cannot make our escape in these evening gowns.”?
Henrietta did not feel so optimistic in the morning. She prowled from end to end of their tiny apartment looking for a loophole and then sat down in despair.
“We may as well be in prison,” she sighed.
The two footmen duly appeared with breakfast and Henrietta noticed that the one on guard at the door never took his eyes off them.
After the footmen had left, Henrietta smiled at Miss Scattersworth. “Come, Mattie! There is surely an idea in one of our romances to help us out of this predicament.”
Miss Scattersworth nibbled at her toast meditatively. “We could seduce the footmen,” she said, after a pause.
“Oh, really, Mattie,” Henrietta giggled. “Pray do think of something else.”
Again Miss Scattersworth thought furiously. “Eureka!” She screamed knocking over the coffee pot and bringing vividly back to mind Lord Reckford’s first call at their home in London. “In ‘The Courage of Lady Wimmerey,’ if you recall, the wicked Turk had her locked in the seraglio and she escaped by throwing pepper in his face.”
Both women looked at the large pepper pot on the table. Henrietta’s heart began to pound. “But there are two of them, Mattie.”
“Well, there are two of us. You take the one at the door and I’ll take t’other. What shall we hit ’em with?” Miss Scattersworth’s face was delicately flushed and her eyes were sparkling. Henrietta gave her a wondering look. “There’s the poker,” she said faintly.
“Good,” said Miss Scattersworth. “Now cup your hand and I’ll give you half the pepper.”
They heard footsteps in the corridor. They had not time enough, thought Henrietta, appealing silently to her friend not to make the attempt. Miss Scattersworth merely squared her cap and gave Henrietta a vulgar wink.
The door was opening. They were here!
Henrietta rose to her feet and started to sway. She moved towards the door. “I feel faint,” she said on a half sob. The footman noticed that she was indeed very white and held out his arms. Henrietta threw the handful of pepper full in his eyes. With superb timing, Miss Mattie dealt with her victim at the same moment and then moving like lightning, she rapped the footmen on their heads with the poker, wielding it competently with one scrawny arm.
“We need to tie them up with something,” wailed Miss Scattersworth.
“The sheets,” whispered Henrietta. “Quietly now, Mattie, someone might have heard the commotion.”
Both women tugged frantically at the sheets with no result. “Honestly,” said Miss Scattersworth petulently throwing down the crumpled linen sheet. “Ladies in books are always ripping sheets and petticoats and heroes are always ripping dresses or something. They can’t have heard of Irish linen.”
All seemed hopeless until Henrietta spied a little work table in the corner and triumphantly produced two pairs of scissors. Both women fell to work, Miss Scattersworth pointing out sensibly that if they imagined they were engaged in a household task, then it would be easy. “Like trussing birds,” she said, standing back at last to survey the two expertly bound and gagged footmen.
Wearing identical walking dresses and half boots (“The doxie did not realty throw her heart into the job,” Henrietta had commented acidly.) both women edged into the corridor. The great house seemed very quiet.
“We are in the east wing,” whispered Henrietta. “If we can descend to the bedrooms on the lower floor, I can perhaps find a back staircase which will lead to the gardens.”
They inched their way to the top of the main staircase. The stairs were narrower, descending two flights before they broadened out into a grand majestic sweep. Far away, a rattling of dishes from the kitchens made them jump. They crept to the next floor and waited holding their breath. Then they crept along the lower corridor and Henrietta stopped before a worn leather door and pushed it open. A steep flight of uncarpeted steps lead down.
There seemed to be an infinity of stairs before they reached the ground level. The noises from the kitchens were louder now but they decided to open the door in front of them. It gave a protesting creak which immediately sent their hearts into their mouths and then swung wide open. They found themselves staring across the lawns at the back of the house.
Perhaps, thought Henrietta later, if they had moved from bush to bush as carefully as they had negotiated the corridors, they would have succeeded in escaping. But the sights and woody smells of freedom were too much for both. They plunged headlong across the lawns as if the devil himself were at their heels… and straight into the waiting arms of the head gamekeeper.
“Back!” he ordered, waving a very lethal-looking rifle. Heads bowed and shaking with nerves, they were shepherded round to the front of the house and into the library, where the hated lord was calmly going through his estate papers as if he were in the habit of imprisoning respectable ladies every day of his life.
That will be all, thank you,” he said, dismissing the keeper.
Monsieur Dubois came in and, averting his eyes from them, whispered something in Lord Reckford’s ear.
“So!” The Beau threw down his quill and leaned back in his chair. Take Miss Scattersworth back to her rooms. I wish to have a word with Miss Sandford alone. And make sure you are armed.”
After the door had closed, he surveyed Henrietta enigmatically. An apple wood fire crackled in the fireplace and a gust of wind swept round the old house like a sigh, sending the candlelight flickering and moving the tapestries on the walls. It had grown as dark as night outside and far away growled the faint menacing rumble of thunder.
Lord Reckford negligently crossed one booted leg over the other and surveyed his prisoner from head to foot.
“You do not appear to trust me, Miss Sandford?”
“Trust you,” gasped Henrietta, outraged. “You frighten us half out of our wits, wave pistols at us and lock us in a barred room. Why on earth should we trust you?”
“I mean you no ill. I am simply keeping you here for your own good.”
“Why? In God’s name why?” stormed Henrietta.
His calm face betrayed none of the thoughts that were racing through his brain. If he told her of his suspicions of her brother, she would never believe him. Better to let her suffer a little. At least she was alive and unharmed.
“I cannot tell you,” said the once-loved husky voice flatly. “Come here to me, Henrietta. We should deal better together than this.”
He drew her into his arms but she stood, unresponsive, like wood and looked at him, her eyes wide with contempt. “If you mean to ravish me my lord and insult me with your unwanted attentions, there is little I can do about it. I am a helpless female and your prisoner.”
Lord Reckford dropped his arms and glared at her in fury. “Helpless, be damned. You have just knocked out two of my strongest footmen and you stand
there twittering about being helpless. I tell you now, Henrietta Sandford, when this business is over, I shall spend many nights enjoying those delectable curves of yours. And you will come to me of your own free will.”
He jerked the bellrope so savagely, it nearly came away in his hand. “Send an escort with Miss Sandford,” he snapped at his butler and throwing himself down at his desk, he bent over his papers and did not turn his head until she was led from the room.
Henrietta could not remember having been so angry before in her life. She stormed up and down the room until poor Miss Scattersworth protested that it was too exhausting just watching her.
Sinking into a chair, Henrietta looked gloomily through the barred windows at the sheets of rain blanketing the park. “It’s probably just as well we did not escape. We may have died from exposure.”
“But what if we escape and do not leave the house?” cried Miss Mattie suddenly.
“And what good is that? Really, Mattie, of all the crack-brained…”
“Wait and listen. If we could manage to escape from this room and hide somewhere in the Abbey. They would think we had escaped and everyone including Lord Reckford and Mr. Holmes would be out looking for us. Then all we would have to do is… walk out of the front door.”
“Why Mattie! You’re a veritable genius!” Henrietta hugged her friend warmly. “I shall never laugh at your fantasies again.”
“Now,” said Miss Scattersworth, very flushed and excited. “We must plan.” The wind howled and the rain beat against the windows as both racked their brains, mailing over and discarding various schemes.
Miss Scattersworth ran her bony fingers through her impossible-colored hair. Henrietta looked at her and laughed. “You look like something the Brothers Grimm thought up. Why….”
But her friend was leaping about with excitement.
She pointed a long finger at a small stove in the corner of the room. “We shall simply soak the door in spirits and burn it down.”
“Oh, Mattie!” Henrietta’s face fell with disappointment, “It’s too crazy an idea. We would probably burn ourselves to death first.”
“No, no! Listen! Listen!” shouted Miss Scattersworth, positively hopping with excitement. “I have it all planned. We will wait until everyone is abed and then soak the carpet and everything near the door in water. When the door is burning properly, we will ram it with… with…” she looked wildly round the room… “with that dresser.”
“But the noise, the flames… everyone in the house will come running,” protested Henrietta.
“Ah, but we shall simply retire to our rooms and hide under the beds. No one will think we have gone to all the danger and trouble simply to stay in our rooms!”
“Well try it,” said Henrietta after a few minutes. “I’ll try anything.”
Accordingly, Miss Scattersworth imperiously rang the bell then waited. After some time, they heard the heavy tread of feet in the corridor and a suspicious voice asked them what they wanted.
Miss Scattersworth raised her voice. “I am feeling faint and wish you to bring me a bottle of brandy with my dinner. I also wish to take a bath after my dinner.”
There was a short silence and then the voice said, “Very good, ma’am.”
Another voice protested something in a low voice.
The first voice answered, “His lordship says they were to have anything they wanted as long as they didn’t get out the room. Rum do if you ask me. But that’s the Quality for you. If you or me took to locking up respectable females, we’d be dancing at the end of a rope. Oh, well. Can’t be much harm in a bath and a bottle o’ brandy. Game old bird, ain’t she.”
The voice faded off down the corridor and Miss Scattersworth turned to Henrietta, her face glowing with excitement. “The brandy added to the spirits will make a fine blaze and the bath water will do to soak the carpet. I shall tell them I am retiring immediately after my bath and do not wish the water removed till the morning.”
The long afternoon dragged on. “I think perhaps we will not have long to wait,” said Henrietta. “I think dinner will be served about five o’clock. Lord Reckford probably keeps country hours when he does not have guests. And you can hardly call us guests,” she added bitterly.
She was shortly proved right as they heard the chink of china and glass in the passage outside. A nervous footman served the dinner while two other armed footmen stood in the doorway.
“My brandy?” asked Miss Scattersworth with awesome dignity.
“With your meal ma’am?” queried the startled footman.
“Yes. I always drink brandy with my meals. And then please wait outside the door until we are finished. The sight of you puts me off my food.”
The footman poured two glasses of brandy and then bowed out leaving the bottle on the table.
When the door closed, Miss Scattersworth leaped to her feet and poured the bottle of brandy into an empty ewer on the washstand, first pouring another generous measure into each of their glasses “just to fortify us, you know.”
After they had finished their meal, they sat with their toes on the fender, sipping their brandy and staring into the flames.
“Do you remember the last time we drank brandy together like this?” asked Miss Scattersworth in a sad voice. “It was in my little lodging in Nethercote. Dear me! What dreams we had then.”
“Dreams are for children,” said Henrietta bitterly.
The remains of the meal were removed, the footman casting an astonished look at the empty bottle. As the footman confided downstairs later, “The old ’un sat there as cool as cucumbers and the ’ole room jes reeked of the stuff.”
At ten o’clock, they reappeared with the tea tray and, shortly afterwards, with a large bath and several copper cans steaming with hot water. And then the two prisoners were left alone.
They sat for several hours chatting and exchanging gossip to while away the hours. Lord Reckford’s name was never mentioned. Far away down the long corridors, came the silvery chime of a clock. One in the morning.
Swiftly they got to their feet and began to throw the bath water over the carpet and everything near the door, being very careful not to splash the door itself.
Downstairs, Lord Reckford felt himself sliding into sleep at last. His lips curled in a smile. “Brandy. A whole bottle!” he murmured. “Can’t say I blame them. Would be as drunk as an owl, myself, given the same circumstances. Well, at least shell sleep well.”
Miss Scattersworth had succeeded in drenching the door thoroughly with a mixture of brandy and spirit. Henrietta clutched her arm. “What if we set the whole Abbey on fire? We will be roasted alive.”
“Fiddlesticks!” said her friend. “I rely on the almost frightening efficiency of Lord Reckford’s staff.” But her lip trembled slightly as she bent over the fire with a taper. “Here goes!”
At first it looked as if the spirits were going to burn off the varnish and little else. Miss Scattersworth pulled open the windows and the night wind swept round the room. With a satisfying crackle the door went up in flames.
They had had the foresight to soak their dresses liberally with water and to bind up their hair in wet kerchiefs. They stood behind the heavy dresser and waited. The heat was becoming intense and suddenly from the grounds outside came a shout of “Fire!”
“The keeper, damn him,” hissed Miss Scattersworth in a very unladylike manner. “Now! Push!”
Fear lending them an unnatural strength, both pushed on the heavy dresser with all their might It shot through the door with an almighty crash leaving a great cavernous blazing hole.
They ran into the far away bedroom and dived under the bed and lay there wet and trembling. The Abbey bell was clanging out into the night and the floor beneath them reverberated with the sound. Henrietta silently blessed her friend for having had the foresight to open the windows. The night gale was blowing the smoke out and along the corridor, otherwise they would have suffocated. For the next fifteen minutes, all was shou
ting and confusion. Then they heard Lord Reckford’s voice as he crashed into the room.
“They’ve gone, Jeremy!” He shouted. “Call the horses. Get every servant available out in the grounds.”
Then he added in an undertone. “The silly bitch! She’s just signed her death warrant.”
Henrietta, who had secretly been hoping that somehow he was to be trusted, felt her heart die within her.
In a matter of minutes the shouting died away from outside the door but still they lay listening as the commotion was renewed outside.
Then they wearily stumbled to their feet. Henrietta tied up a change of clothes for both of them in a large shawl. They gained the bedrooms on the lower floor without hearing or meeting a soul. Choosing one which had the least occupied look about it, they climbed into bed together and fell fast asleep.
They waited another day and night in the bedroom until hunger drove them to try to escape. The faint light of dawn was pearling the horizon as they crept from the back door. This time they moved slowly and cautiously from bush to bush until they reached the security of the woods. Faster they walked and faster, cursing the vast extent of Lord Reckford’s estate. It was too dangerous to take the first road they came to so they wearily cut across the fields in silence until they reached a smaller winding country road, screened from the surrounding fields by tall hedgerows. They sat down to rest and plan.
“Have we any money, Martie?”
“Oh, yes,” said her friend blithely. “I always carry two rouleaux of guineas in my reticule. I am not used to having any money at all and it is still a thrilling novelty to me to actually be able to carry gold around with me.”
“Good,” said Henrietta in a flat voice. “We shall walk to the nearest village and hire some sort of conveyance. We shall go back to Nethercote, Mattie. Everyone in the town knows us and it will be very hard for my lord to abduct us again.”
The road in front of them stretched forward to freedom. Henrietta began to cry as if her heart would break.
“Oh, Mattie,” she sobbed. “And I did love him so.”
