A Dark and Brooding Gentleman

by Margaret McPhee

  She shifted, trying to ease her body into a more comfortable position.

  ‘You are back with us again, Miss Allardyce.’ The voice was not that of Bullford, but it was one she recognised. This man, whoever he was, was the same one who had held her hooded within his coach.

  A flint struck against a tinderbox and she saw the spark catch to the tinder and the flame light a candle. The small flickering light seemed too bright against the darkness and she narrowed her eyes and peered through the blackness to see the identity of the man to whom Bullford had delivered her.

  There were two men standing looking down at where she lay, but even if the room had been fully lit she would not have known their identities for both men were dressed in plain long black robes, the hoods of which had been pulled up over the heads to leave their faces hidden in shadow.

  The stouter man gestured to the other and his associate bent down and released the gag from her mouth, and as he moved she thought she caught a glimpse of a narrow face and shifty grey eyes and she was sure that he was the Messenger.

  ‘Untie me, sir,’ she demanded.

  ‘I am afraid we will be keeping you safely trussed for now, my dear,’ said the gentleman from the carriage and she realised with a shiver that his voice was not so dissimilar to Bullford’s. There was a small silence as he stepped closer to loom over her in the darkness. ‘You told Hunter, did you not, Miss Allardyce? Despite all our warnings.’

  ‘No,’ she lied. ‘I do not know how he came to be in Spitalfields.’ That, at least, was the truth. ‘He knows nothing of any of this, I swear it.’ She did not know how Sebastian had found her at the marketplace, but she knew with all her heart that she must protect both him and her papa.

  The gentleman, whose face remained hidden by the folds of his cowl, gave a small laugh and clapped his hands together in mock applause. ‘Very impressive, my dear, but I seem to recall at our last meeting how very anxious you were to protect Mr Hunter from harm.’

  ‘The gentleman is my employer’s son,’ she countered. ‘His welfare affects Mrs Hunter and therefore also, albeit indirectly, myself. I would not see Mrs Hunter’s sensibilities distressed.’

  ‘How solicitous of you, Miss Allardyce. If it is not too indelicate of me to say, the gentleman may be your employer’s son, but he has engaged your affection, Miss Allardyce, a feeling which, if I am not mistaken, is reciprocated.’

  ‘You are very much mistaken, sir!’ she exclaimed, frightened of where this was leading and what it would mean for Sebastian.

  ‘For your own sake, Miss Allardyce, you had better hope that I am not.’ There was a chill in his voice as he uttered the soft words.

  Her blood ran cold. ‘My papa?’

  ‘Your papa remains unharmed and blissfully oblivious to all.’ He reached down and stroked a finger against her cheek. ‘But what will Hunter give to save the life of the woman he loves?’

  She jerked her face away from his touch and stared up at him with defiance. ‘He will give you nothing!’ It was the truth. Sebastian would not part with the ring even when he had loved her and she had no doubt what his feelings were for her now. A shiver rippled through her at the memory of his face in the marketplace. Whatever Sebastian did, he would not give them the ring.

  ‘Oh, no, my dear Miss Allardyce. I very much suspect he will give us exactly what we want.’ She heard the smile in his voice. ‘Had we known Hunter would develop such a tendre for you, it would have made matters so much easier for us.’

  ‘And if he does not give you the ring?’ Her heart was filled with fear and none of it was for herself.

  ‘Let us just hope, for your sake, my dear, that he does.’ And then he gestured to Messenger, who knelt down and fixed the gag in place across her mouth.

  Then the two black-robed men were gone, taking the candle with them and leaving Phoebe alone in the darkness.

  ‘Lord Bullford is not at home,’ the footman said to Hunter, who was standing upon the steps of Bullford’s father’s house in Henrietta Street.

  ‘Perhaps you wish to reconsider that reply.’ Hunter slipped a pistol from his pocket and held it against the footman’s ribs. He had seen the shadowy figure of Bullford outlined against the library window as he called the lad over to hold Ajax.

  The footman gave a nod and showed him in to the hall where he pointed silently at the library door before hurrying back down beneath stairs.

  Bullford was loitering at the side of the window when Hunter opened the library door and stepped inside.

  Bullford took one look at Hunter and the pistol in his hand and the colour drained from his face.

  ‘Hunter, old man,’ he tried to bluff, ‘what on earth are you doing here and with a pistol at the ready?’

  But Hunter had no time for games. ‘Where is she, Bullford?’

  ‘I have no idea what you are talking about, old man.’

  ‘Then you had better start thinking and fast.’ Hunter aimed the barrel of the pistol at Bullford and began to close the space between them.

  Bullford backed away, stumbling in the process, but righted himself to keep edging away.

  ‘You blackmailed her, terrorised her, threatened her father.’

  ‘It was not supposed to be like that.’ Bullford shook his head. ‘We did not think for a minute that Miss Allardyce would not accept the bribe. There are not many women who would have walked away from two thousand pounds. We had made no provision for it. Charles, m’father’s footman, made the threat out of desperation. They were just empty words uttered on the spot. We never would have hurt Sir Henry.’

  ‘But you did hurt him. When Miss Allardyce visited him that day he had been beaten.’

  ‘I swear upon my very life, Hunter, that no harm came to her father by our hands. Charles did not understand Miss Allardyce’s sudden change of heart when she emerged from the visit that day, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and start asking questions.’

  ‘So you continued to torture her with threats to her father’s safety?’

  ‘I am sorry, Hunter, truly I am. But I needed the ring.’

  ‘Why was acquiring the ring your responsibility?’

  Bullford shook his head. ‘I cannot tell you, Hunter. I am sworn to secrecy on pain of death.’

  ‘I know all about the Order of the Wolf, so start talking, Bullford.’

  Bullford’s eyes widened; he made to step back farther, but there was nowhere left to go. He shrank against the library wall and looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

  ‘Let me guess,’ said Hunter. ‘Part of your initiation ceremony?’

  Bullford nodded and something of the fight went out of him. ‘My father brought me into the society close to the end of last year.’

  ‘Just after my father’s death, if I am not mistaken.’

  Bullford nodded again. ‘My initiation is not complete until I have passed the task I have been set. I cannot become a full member until I bring them the ring.’

  ‘And Miss Allardyce?’

  ‘It was not my idea, please believe me, Hunter. They made me do it, but I swear she is unharmed.’ ‘Where is she being held?’

  ‘Cannot tell you, old man.’ The sweat was glistening on Bullford’s temple and upper lip and chin.

  Hunter experienced the urge to pistol whip Bullford’s face and probably would have, had he not learned his father’s final harsh lesson.

  Instead, he leaned over Bullford and said, ‘Ten months ago I learned that in the end there is always a reckoning for one’s actions. Your task is the reason for Miss Allardyce’s predicament; it was your task and thus your responsibility. You may not have envisaged the way she would be used, but you went along with it readily enough. And do not delude yourself for a minute that you are but a bystander swept along with events. This is no game, James. Do you honestly think I will let you play with the life of the woman I love and walk away scot-free?

  ‘The Order was established by men of integrity to recruit men of integrity wh
o would be the moral compass when those around were lost. It is a great responsibility and the tasks set were meant to test a man’s mettle. So I give you the chance, Bullford, that I never had. Will you put right your mistake? For I tell you now, you will take responsibility for your actions this night, one way or another.

  ‘Do you possess the integrity to join the Order in truth? If you do not, I swear by the responsibility given to me by my father, and the responsibility that a man has for the woman he loves, that you will die.’

  Hunter touched the muzzle of the pistol to Bullford’s forehead. ‘Where is Miss Allardyce?’

  He saw Bullford’s Adam’s apple bob nervously. ‘You are right, Hunter. I knew it was wicked work and I said nothing. She is in the cellar of Obsidian House. In this I will do right, at least. And if they take my life for so doing, then it is just recompense for all that I did to Miss Allardyce.’

  ‘Your first decision worthy of the Order, Bullford, but do you have what it takes to become a member, I wonder?’ said Hunter slowly as he lowered the pistol. ‘Let us save Miss Allardyce and see if we cannot both complete the initiation tasks set us by our fathers in the process.’

  Bullford’s brow creased. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You will take the ring to Obsidian House.’

  ‘That will allow me to join the Order, but how will it help you or Miss Allardyce?’ Bullford’s puzzlement increased.

  ‘Because I will be wearing the ring when you present it,’ replied Hunter with a cold smile.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Afternoon, sirs.’ The footman nodded as Hunter and Bullford slipped into the hallway of Obsidian House.

  ‘Afternoon,’ murmured Bullford in reply, then steered Hunter down a corridor and into the first room that was out of sight. There, the two of them pulled the black robes they had brought with them on over their clothes.

  ‘You are sure this will work?’ whispered Bullford. ‘As sure as I can be,’ said Hunter. ‘You know what to do …’

  Bullford nodded and wiped away the sweat that was glimmering on his face.

  Hunter checked his pocket watch, then gave a nod.

  They lifted the hoods to cover their heads and slipped out into the corridor to merge amidst the other robed and hooded men walking towards the ceremonial chamber.

  The grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed three and Phoebe knew the deadline had passed.

  Two hooded men had brought her up from the cellar and tied her to a St Andrew’s cross in the centre of a large shadowed hall. High on the wall facing her hung a larger version of Hunter’s ring, a great silver-crafted wolf’s head. And as the creature’s emerald eyes glinted in the flickering wall-candles a stream of black-cowled men filed into the hall to encircle her.

  Phoebe strained against the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles to the wood of the cross, but the knots were tight and secure. A wave of panic swept over her at the ever-growing circle, but she was determined to reveal nothing of her fear.

  A man appeared by her side. He pushed the hood back and there was the Marquis of Willaston, Bullford’s father. The scent of sweet tobacco and sandalwood hit her and she knew that he was the gentleman from the carriage even before he opened his mouth to speak quiet words that were for her ears only.

  ‘It seems you were right, Miss Allardyce. Hunter does not care whether you live or die. He does not deem your life worthy of one paltry ring.’

  She closed her eyes. Sebastian was an honourable man. He would not break the oath he had sworn to his dying father. Now that she had seen these hooded men, so many of them, all garbed in their ‘monk’ robes, now that she knew that even Bullford, who was supposed to be Sebastian’s friend, was one of them, and had seen the great silver wolf’s head on the wall, she understood that the ring was in some way a part of all this, too. So much so, they were prepared to kill for it. But to Sebastian, who had guarded it so close to his heart for all of the time since his father’s death, that small piece of silver with its tiny emerald chips meant something different.

  He felt he had failed and disappointed his father and there were no means to prove himself a better son, no way to win his father’s love or forgiveness. Death had robbed him of that chance. And, worse than that, Sebastian had carried the guilt for that death all of these months, as surely as he had carried the ring. To break his oath would be to fail his father in the final test. Keeping this faith was the one thing left he could do for his father. Sebastian would not give them the ring, not even to save her life.

  Phoebe closed her eyes all the tighter and would not let the tears fall. She understood, yet the realisation broke apart her shattered heart and ground the fragments to dust. Despair wrapped its dark tendrils around her and grew until there was no more light; it no longer mattered that the men would kill her.

  ‘I’ll wager that your affection for him has waned, Miss Allardyce, now that you know the truth of him.’

  She opened her eyes and looked up to meet the Marquis’s gaze. ‘I love him.’ The words were quiet and certain.

  The Marquis looked at her with a strange expression. ‘Do you not know what we mean to do with you?’

  ‘I know,’ she said in that same calm voice.

  He slid a knife from the scabbard that hung from his belt and showed it to her. ‘And are you not afraid?’

  She slowly shook her head. ‘I have nothing left to fear.’ It was the truth, for, inside, Phoebe was already dead.

  The last of the black-hooded men entered the hall. As the door thudded shut and the footsteps of the footmen echoed away down the corridor, the Marquis sheathed the knife again. He smiled at Phoebe and turned to face the men gathered in the circle around them.

  ‘Welcome, brothers,’ he intoned. ‘We are gathered here on the matter of the master’s ring and the fact that it lies in the hands of one who is not a member. Our latest novice has failed in his task to retrieve the ring and thus we must take matters into our own hands and act for the good of the Order. Remember that whatever takes place here today is a sacrifice we must make for the greater good.’ He glanced meaningfully towards Phoebe. ‘And thus—’

  One of the black-robed figures stepped into the circle and pulled back his hood to reveal himself as Bullford. ‘I have not failed in my task, master. I have brought the ring as you required.’

  A sudden murmur of voices passed around the circle.

  The Marquis gaped at his son. ‘You have the ring?’

  There was a silence as all of the black-hooded figures turned to face Bullford.

  ‘I do, master.’

  ‘Then bring it to me, boy!’ the Marquis bellowed.

  Bullford glanced round to his right-hand side and the black-garbed figure stepped into the circle to stand by Bullford’s side. He slipped back his hood and the breath caught in Phoebe’s throat, for there stood Sebastian, his face pale, his hair black as night and his eyes green and more deadly than she had ever seen.

  A gasp went round the circle, and an even louder one when he lifted the black sleeve to reveal his right hand—there on his third finger, for all to see, was the wolf’s-head ring.

  ‘Good lord!’ exclaimed the Marquis. ‘What treachery is this?’

  ‘What treachery, indeed, Willaston?’ demanded Sebastian.

  ‘Seize him!’ shouted the Marquis.

  ‘On whose authority do you act, sir?’ said Sebastian. ‘You are not master here. Perhaps you have not noticed, sir, but the ring is upon my finger.’

  ‘You are not even a member of our Order!’

  ‘On the contrary, Willaston, I claim my birthright to be not only member, but master.’

  ‘You cannot just claim membership. You must be proposed by one of the office bearers. And have your name written in the book.’

  ‘My name is in the book, written there by my father’s own hand.’

  ‘Your father is dead!’

  ‘And I am his successor, named by him. I am the master here, by blood, and birthright an
d will. I have my father’s decree here for any who wish to read it.’ Phoebe watched as he pulled out a letter and held it aloft. ‘Do any contest my right?’ His voice rang out as his eyes roved around the circle waiting for a challenge, but there was not one sound to break the silence.

  The Marquis held his hands out in petition to the circle. ‘What is wrong with you? Tell him he is wrong. Will you just stand there and let him trick his way in here and take over?’

  ‘Edward always meant to bring him in,’ someone said.

  ‘He was wild!’ said the Marquis. ‘He was young,’ came the reply. ‘And not that much worse than your own boy.’

  ‘He is the rightful Hunter,’ said another. ‘He is a damned usurper!’ cried the Marquis.

  ‘You are the usurper,’ called one of the figures at the far end. And when the Marquis stared in the direction of the voice no one moved. It was as if they were closing ranks against him.

  Even Bullford stepped back to resume his place within the circle.

  ‘James?’ The Marquis stared at Bullford with shock and anger and hurt.

  Sebastian walked forwards to stand before the Marquis. ‘You have forgotten the aims of this society and bent the rules to suit your own selfish desires. You have threatened the innocent, and blackmailed and terrorised a woman whose very honour this society should have fought to protect.’ He gestured towards Phoebe, his eyes meeting hers briefly across the floor before he turned back to the Marquis. ‘As master, I strip you of your office, sir.’

  The Marquis gave a hard laugh. ‘That is all you can do. You cannot throw me out. Membership is for life. Once one knows our secrets he is either a member—’

  ‘Or dead,’ finished Sebastian.

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘I would not stoop to your level. I mean to rule this Order as my forebears intended and uphold the very values for which it was founded. All that is rotten will be cut away and the Order’s integrity restored.’ Sebastian held out his hand to the Marquis, as if he were showing him the ring.