by Anne Ireland
So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he did not notice he was being shadowed, and so when the shot rang out, narrowly missing him, he was taken by surprise.
His horse reared in fright and then bolted. Paul needed all his strength and skill to stay in the saddle. He had no time to look for the source of the shot and did not see the shadow of a man in the stand of trees a little to his right. It was all he could do to bring his horse under control, and by the time he had mastered it the man had gone.
However, another traveller had seen the man take aim and fire, but before he could cry a warning, he heard the shot and saw that it had missed its target. He launched his horse at the copse in the hope that he might apprehend the villain, but before he could reach him, he had disappeared. He searched through the copse for some minutes, but the sound of hooves pounding in the distance told him that his quarry had escaped.
Unaware that anyone else had seen the incident, Paul raced on until he reached his home. He had no doubt that the shot had been deliberate or that someone had been intending to kill him. He had been careless, but he would take more precautions in future. He had good friends who would help him in this fight to unmask the murderer of their comrades, and they were only waiting for him to send word.
* * * *
Richard Mortimer had no love for Captain Crawford but he was not a murderer and he would never shoot a man in the back, though he had killed in a duel while abroad. He might be a rogue and guilty of things he would prefer to forget, but murder was not one of them.
It seemed that Captain Crawford had an enemy. The question was—ought he to try and warn him? If recent experience were anything to the point, Crawford would probably take it into his head to blame him for the incident. Besides, that shot should be warning enough, unless he thought it was a poacher taking an unlucky shot at some pigeon.
Richard knew that Crawford blamed him for the faulty cannon that had killed those men, but he had acted in good faith, his commission a mere two hundred pounds. The man who had paid him had disappeared immediately after receiving the army's money from Crawford's own hand. Richard had been horrified to learn of the accident and had made up his mind to trace the culprit. He had discovered that the maker was actually a foundry in the north of England and not Hanwell’s company. However, when he journeyed to Yorkshire to make some inquiries he discovered that the owner of the foundry had been murdered.
Richard suspected that the murderer must be the same man who had just tried to shoot Crawford in the back—or someone employed by a deadly master. But would Crawford listen to him if he tried to tell him of his suspicions?
Chapter Six
Geraldine smiled happily at Hester. Her fiancé was due to arrive that evening and would be staying with them until after her birthday. She had not seen Thomas since leaving Bath, and she was feeling very excited.
“I am too restless to stay indoors,” she told Hester after they had partaken of nuncheon. “Shall we walk as far as the lake? The days are flying past and we have hardly had any time to ourselves.”
“There has been too much to do,” Hester agreed. She knew that she would miss her friend when she went home. “What with fittings and visiting neighbors, we have been busy all the time.”
“You will like my Aunt Longstanton,” Geraldine told her as they set out on their walk. “Paul’s mother is such a lovely lady. She is always forgetting something, and the servants run round after her, retrieving her scarves or her needlework, but no one minds because she never forgets to thank them for their trouble.”
“I am looking forward to meeting her tomorrow,” Hester said. She saw an inquisitive look in Geraldine’s eyes and understood the reason behind it. Geraldine suspected that her cousin was courting Hester in his own fashion and she clearly approved.
If only she were an innocent girl with no secrets to hide! Hester wished that she had never met Richard Mortimer or that she had not fallen in love with him, as she had. If her past had been as spotless as it might have been, she could have gone to Paul with an open heart—but regrets were useless and would change nothing.
* * * *
The sun was shining down on the two girls as they walked arm-in-arm across the wide expanse of lush lawn and through the well-kept shrubbery, heading towards the open parkland that led to the lake. They were both well dressed, one in pink-spotted muslin, the other in grey silk, both carrying shawls and parasols. They both wore straw bonnets and their feet were clad in soft kid boots, their hands covered in little lace mittens that allowed the fingers to remain free, and they looked what they were—two young and privileged ladies.
In the trees that obscured the approach to the lake from this angle, the watcher saw them coming and blessed his luck in being there at the right time; it would be easier to snatch the one he wanted in the open air rather than sneaking into the house at night as he had been planning to do. His plans were laid, with a coach and horses waiting nearby and ready to carry off the prize if he succeeded. He had been told to capture the pretty one who was kin to Captain Crawford, and his gaze lit upon the lady in grey. He knew her for he had seen her riding with the gentleman that morning a short time before he had taken a pot shot at the gentleman. He had exceeded his orders in doing so, but the shot had missed, and another gentleman had seen him, however he’d run off in time to avoid being caught.
Excitement gripped him as the two ladies drew nearer, for he had been offered more gold than he could expect to see in a lifetime if he carried out his mission. He signalled to the rogues he had employed to help him.
“Grab the one in grey,” he whispered. “If the other tries to stop us, push her to the ground but do not harm her. Kidnap is one thing, but I won’t have a woman’s death on my conscience.” Men like Captain Crawford were fair game, but he was too squeamish to kill a defenceless woman.
* * * *
Geraldine and Hester were laughing in the sunshine, completely unaware that danger lurked ahead of them until the rogues sprang out on them. Geraldine was startled unable to believe this was happening on her father’s land, and she watched Hester being dragged away by two of the men in horror. Hester was struggling for all she was worth, but her arms were imprisoned behind her, and she could not fight two men alone.
“Stop it!” Geraldine cried and flung herself at one of the men, hitting him with her parasol. He wrenched it away from her, snapped it and discarded it. She then tried kicking and punching him until he gave her a huge push that knocked her to the ground. “Leave her alone I say . . .”
“Behave yourself, girl—or you will be sorry!” one of the men grunted at her.
Geraldine lay on the ground for a few minutes feeling stunned and disbelieving. The sounds of Hester’s struggle had died away as she rose to her feet, wondering what to do for the best. She was trying to decide whether to try and follow or to fetch help. Hearing the sound of hoof-beats, she glanced up and gave a cry of outrage as she saw who had arrived.
“You! How dare you abduct Hester? You wicked, wicked man!”
“You wrong me, Miss Holbeach,” Richard Mortimer said and dismounted. “Are you hurt?”
“Only a little—but your men have taken Hester.”
“Not my men, but the same ones as those who took a pot shot at Captain Crawford this morning I make no doubt. Forgive me if I do not see you safely home, but our best chance of finding her is if I can follow them and discover where they are taking her. Send a message to your cousin, Miss Holbeach. Tell him I am not his enemy, and I would help him discover the man who betrayed us.”
Geraldine was left staring at him in dismay as he mounted and rode off in the direction the others had taken earlier. She was trembling now, for she had begun to realize what had happened and the danger Hester was in from the rogues who had snatched her.
She must go home and send a message to Paul. She had a sick feeling inside as she turned and ran towards the house. Hester had saved her from abduction. They had blamed Richard Mortimer for the letters and
the attempt at kidnap, but now it looked as if they might have been wrong.
She prayed that Mortimer had been honest with her for she knew that Hester’s life might be at stake. If Paul had an enemy, that person might stop at nothing to wreak his vengeance on the man he hated.
* * * *
Paul was about to sit down to dinner when he received Geraldine’s note. He swore and turned pale, crushing the paper in his hand before smoothing it out to read it once more.
“What is wrong, Paul? Lady Ellen Longstanton asked her son, for the look in his eyes was so bleak that it frightened her.
“Hester has been kidnapped, and by someone who wishes me dead by the looks of it.” His mother gasped for she knew him well enough to understand that he would count his own life as nothing if it meant saving Hester. “It seems I have been looking for the wrong man. Forgive me, Mother, I must go.”
“Yes, of course. Take care, my dearest.”
“Do not concern yourself for me, Mother. I am well able to take care of myself. It is Hester I fear for. If anything should happen to her because of me . . .”
She watched him leave, his expression set like iron as he shouted instructions for a horse to be saddled. Paul had risked his life for his friends during the recent wars and been commended for it more times than she could remember. He would not consider himself if the woman he planned to marry were in danger. He had not spoken to her of his marriage, but she had known his intention the first time that he had mentioned the wonderful Miss Weston to her.
* * * *
Paul’s mind was working frantically as he took the stairs two at a time and collected the few items he would need for his journey. He changed swiftly into riding dress, shoved a pair of pistols into his coat pockets, and took a purse of gold from his military chest. Then he ran down the stairs to mount the horse his groom had waiting, having wasted no more than twenty minutes.
Geraldine had given him clear, precise details for which he blessed her, and he knew that the road the rogues must have taken was the highroad, which led to a crossroads, one towards London, the other winding eastward across country. He must follow as far as the crossroads and then ask questions at the inn there. It would be his guess that they would follow the main road, but he could not be sure. He could only hope that Mortimer had been successful in following them and would find a way to leave word for him.
It seemed strange to be thinking of Mortimer as an ally rather than his enemy, and he set himself the task of working out the identity of that man. Someone had tried to shoot him in the back earlier that morning and that person was most likely to be the same one that had kidnapped Hester—but why? For whom was he working?
Richard Mortimer had been the go-between for someone else that much was clear in Paul’s mind as he galloped across country to join the road he sought at a point between the two estates. Mortimer had approached the army and obtained the contract for the faulty cannon. In view of recent events, it was likely that he had acted in good faith for a commission. Then who was behind the fraud and the murder of the foundry owner?
Paul cursed himself for being misled. Of course! He had been a fool. The traitor would not have come out into the open, for he must have known that he would be caught eventually. He had used Mortimer, relying on the man’s reputation as a black sheep so that the blame would naturally fall on him. And Paul had fallen for it!
Now he saw that the man behind this whole affair had a clever mind. Whoever he was, he had probably been in the pay of the French, and he was likely to be an English gentleman.
* * * *
Hester awoke with an unpleasant headache. For a few moments, she was confused. She could not think where she was, and then it came back to her. She had been kidnapped, and one of the men had hit her to stop her screaming. The blow had been hard enough to render her unconscious, and she could feel a tender spot on her chin. She touched it gingerly because it was painful.
She was lying on a bed. Sitting up, she discovered that she had not been bound and was free to move as she would. The room was dark, but the curtains had not been drawn, and there was enough light for her to see her way across the room.
She got to her feet, swaying a little as for a moment the floor seemed to come up to meet her. Her head cleared gradually and she was able to walk as far as the door, but her attempts to open it were futile. It had been locked from the outside. After tugging at it furiously for a minute or two, Hester walked to the window and looked out. She was on the upper floor of what appeared to be a large country house, and there was a sheer drop to the ground.
Clearly, she was a prisoner. She had no way of escape and was at the mercy of whoever had kidnapped her. Frowning, Hester returned to the bed. She could see that the room was adequately furnished with a chest of drawers, a table and a stool, though not in any way luxurious. It might be a part of the servants’ wing perhaps.
She was thoughtful as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Why had she been abducted—and by whom? Hester could think of no reason why she should have been taken. She was not a great heiress like Geraldine. But perhaps she had been taken by mistake? She recalled the attack on her friend the day they had visited the ruined abbey and suspected that the rogues who had captured her must have thought that she was the heiress.
What would they do when they discovered their mistake? Hester shivered, feeling frightened all at once. She had been too angry with her captors to be frightened but now she realized that she could be in real danger. She was of no use to whoever had seized her. If her captors meant to ask for a ransom, she should wait and see what happened in the meantime. Perhaps her guards would grow careless and she might have a chance to escape.
She suspected that a ransom would be demanded. Geraldine would have told everyone what had occurred—but had she been hurt in the struggle? Hester vaguely remembered Geraldine shouting and struggling, but she had not been able to see what had happened to her friend. She prayed that Geraldine was safe at her home and that Paul would be told she had been kidnapped.
Hearing a key in the lock, Hester rose to her feet. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, but she raised her head, her face proud as she waited for the door to open.
Two men entered. One was carrying a tray of food and the other held a branch of candles. Light flooded the room, banishing the gathering gloom. He stopped to light more candles that stood on a table near the door before turning to look at her.
“You are awake,” he said in a gruff but not harsh voice. “I beg your pardon for the blow that rendered you unconscious, miss. You should not have struggled so violently. I told you that you would come to no harm.”
“Did you expect me to believe that? How dare you bring me to this place against my will?”
“You are here because he ordered it. I obey my master.”
“And who is your master?”
“That I am not at liberty to say, Miss Holbeach.”
It was as she had suspected! They thought she was Geraldine.
“You will not answer me—but will you tell me your own name?”
“I will answer to John, Miss.”
“Then will you let me go, John? I will pay you as much and more than your master has promised you.” Hester spoke as a true heiress might for surely someone would pay him for her return?”
“It is more than my life is worth,” John replied. “I shall treat you fairly, miss. I am not a violent man, and I’m sorry my fellow hit you like that—but if I let you go, my master would kill me.”
“But what does he want of me? Is it money?”
“That’s his business, miss. I can’t say no more.” He hesitated and then signalled to the other man to deposit the tray on the table. “There’s bread, cheese and pickles, and a glass of wine. I could make you some coffee if you wish for it?” Hester shook her head, looking doubtfully at the food. “I promise you the food isn’t drugged. You can eat and drink safely. I give you my word.”
“Thank you.” Hester’s stomach felt
very empty. It had been some hours since she had eaten after all. “But I would prefer to be taken back to my home.”
“I am sorry. I have my orders to keep you here until he comes.”
The men went out, leaving Hester with the food and the candles he had lit, which would last for some hours. At least she had light, and it appeared that she was not to be starved for the moment. She went over to the table and broke a small piece of cheese. It was fresh and wholesome as was the bread and butter. Sipping the wine cautiously, she decided that there was nothing peculiar about the taste and drank half of it. Carrying the tray back to set it on the chest beside the bed, she ate and drank in comfort.
She ate her supper very slowly and sipped the wine, making it last for as long as possible. She then looked round for somewhere to relieve herself. There was no privy, but she discovered a pot cupboard behind a painted screen. There was also a basin and a jug filled with water that might once have been warm but was now cold. Towels and soap had been provided for her use.
Hester made herself more comfortable and then returned to the bed, for there was nowhere else to sit in comfort. She was feeling restless and began to look about her in case there was something she might use to force open the lock on the door.
Her search was futile, but she found a small volume of poetry in the top drawer of the chest beside the bed. It would help to while away the time she was imprisoned here, she thought, knowing that she must not allow herself to become frustrated or desperate. She was a prisoner and all she could do was to pray that someone would come looking for her.
* * * *
Unknown to Hester, help was closer than she could have imagined, though not from the person she hoped would rescue her. Richard Mortimer had caught up with the coach before it had gone more than a few miles. Had he been armed, he might have attempted to stop it and rescue Hester. Unarmed, he knew that he had no chance of forcing her abductors to give her up. He had therefore followed at a discreet distance and, after watching the house for some hours, was fairly certain that he knew which room Hester was being kept in.
