by Janet Woods
‘Yes, sir. I hope the young lady is safely found.’
Benedict allowed his fear to surface for a moment. ‘So do I, George. If Miss Hartford is not found safe and well I’ll follow the perpetrators of this crime into hell to take my revenge. They’ll die slowly, believe me.’
An hour later the three men rode out. It was a pretty morning, a mist drifted waist high above the dewy grass and hung like pearl drops from the spiders' webs. It wasn’t dense enough to hide them, or the oak tree with its twisted, trunk, which had been distorted by a lightning strike several summers ago.
‘Stay here,’ he told his companions. ‘I don’t want Amber’s safety compromised. We can look for her abductors afterwards. I think we know who they are.’ He rode off towards the oak.
As instructed, Benedict dropped the four leather satchels to the far side of the oak trunk.
‘If you hurt her I’ll see you rot in hell,’ he said out loud, then turned and rode away without looking back.
* * * *
It wasn’t until the men had gone from sight that Maisie dared creep out of her hiding place. Her heart had never pounded quite so loudly before. Lord Costain had appeared so stern and unforgiving that she’d been scared he might strangle her if he decided to search the copse and found her.
Picking the satchels up one by one she placed them in the sack tied to the donkey’s back, distributing the weight evenly. She hadn’t expected it to be quite so heavy. ‘How the devil am I going to carry four of them by myself?’ she whispered.
No one will suspect a girl, Stephen had said, but he’d forgotten that girls weren’t as muscular or as strong as men. It would be obvious to anyone that she was carrying something heavy, if she could carry it at all.
She had no intention of leaving the gold behind though, and remembered her father’s handcart. She would have to steal it. And she must hurry, because she had to get over to the harbor at Lymington. The fishing boat Stephen had arranged, wouldn’t wait.
She smiled happily when she remembered the red dress he’d promised to buy her when they were married.
* * * *
Amber had shouted out and banged on the cellar door intermittently, but to no avail. After a while it became obvious she was alone in the house. The darkness in the cellar was dense and only the chime of the clock helped her to keep count of the passing hours.
The temperature plummeted. Her only warmth was the blanket. Using the handle of the iron ladle, she managed to make a hole in it big enough for her head to slip though. She pulled it over her nightgown despite the horsey smell it gave off, tying it around her waist with one of the cords. At least it didn’t keep slipping off now, and it left her arms free
She began to feel hungry. About this time Annie usually brought her tea on a tray, then water to wash in. Then she’d go downstairs and be served breakfast of her choice from the many dishes set out. At least she had wine to drink, but it made her head spin if she drank too much at once, and it created a sour taste in her mouth and caused the pit of her stomach to ache.
She heard a series of creaks as though there were footsteps overhead, and she rushed to the door, yelling, ‘Help me!’
Nobody answered.
Perhaps it was her grandfather, letting her know he was watching over her. The thought gave her comfort. ‘Why is Patrick doing this to me, Grandfather?’ she said. ‘I would have helped him. He only had to ask.’
Are you sure it’s Patrick?
Was she? She doubted if it was Jonas Carlton after their confrontation at his uncle’s house. He would be the first they’d suspect if she disappeared. But Patrick? He wouldn’t have been able to resist goading her, and he wasn’t past bullying her, especially when he had too much drink inside him. But the thought of him abducting her and demanding a ransom was somehow alien.
She didn’t have to think very hard to find an alternative. She shuddered at the thought of Stephen Gould’s sadistic eyes. He wouldn’t care if he hurt her. He’d enjoy it.
What if Gould came back? What if he violated her, then killed her?
The color ebbed from her face. Now she was aware of what took place she knew the strength of a man when he was aroused, and the control needed. She doubted if she’d enjoy the attention of one ruthless enough to use the intimate act in anger to punish and humiliate.
She had no weapon to fight him off with. Her fingers touched the cord around her waist and her eyes widened as her mind began to consider the possibilities. She knew the layout of the cellar and where certain objects were usually kept. And yes ... she did have weapons.
Over the next hour she began to prepare to defend herself, because she wasn’t going to succumb without a fight. Gradually, she dragged a small, but heavy table across to the right of the stairs. On it she placed the iron ladle. Now it was close at hand if she needed it.
As a line of first defence she laid bottles of wine on the steps. They would roll under foot and make it hard for anyone to keep their balance.
Her fingers closed around a broom and were hastily withdrawn when she encountered a thick sticky material and remembered the spiders. She left it propped against a wall, where it would act as a last resort.
Gathering together the cords that had bound her, she tightly knotted them together. One end she tied to a wine rack, the other was stretched across the stairs and secured to the leg of the table.
Satisfied she’d done all she could, she sank on to her mattress and scowled into the darkness until boredom overtook her and she fell asleep.
* * * *
Patrick had been looking for the wounded man for half the night and had slept fitfully. When he woke it was later than he’d expected. He was still alone. Jonas’s horse had found his, and the pair nuzzled each other like the old friends they were.
Instantly, he was aware that Stephen had run out on him. He was relieved, for it left him with a clear conscience. But conscience couldn’t be cleared that easily, he thought, when he remembered the man in the forest.
He set out again, going back to the spot where the man had been shot. After a while he came across some spots of blood and began to follow them. It was an hour before he found him. The man had gone round in a circle, and was seated against a tree trunk, grey-faced and with his eyes closed.
He opened them when he heard the horse and said tiredly, ‘I hoped you look for me. I might as well tell you. I was on my way to the Earl of Laconbridge’s estate with a message from your friend Jonas Carlton. I was to tell him of the plot afoot to abduct a young woman who was about to marry into his family.’
Patrick nodded. ‘The girl is my cousin, but Stephen has gone, so it’s no longer urgent.’
‘You were part of the plot?’
‘Much to my shame. I owed Stephen money but the plan to abduct Amber was not to my liking. Can you ride?’
‘As long as we go slowly. I’m in a great deal of pain now.’
Patrick administered brandy from his flask and helped the man on to the horse. ‘Tell me if you feel faint.’
‘Is Gould capable of carrying out an abduction single-handed?’ Matt suddenly said.
Fear leaped into Patrick’s breast. ‘It’s possible ... yes.’
‘Then let’s make all haste. If the girl has gone and if she dies at Gould’s hands you’ll be equally guilty, since you conspired with him.’
‘I didn’t conspire to kill her,’ Patrick said. ‘We were going to hold her in the charcoal burner’s cottage and claim a ransom for her return.’
‘For your sake, I hope nothing has happened to her.’
* * * *
Two miles away, in the luxurious comfort of his drawing room, the earl was saying to his agent, ‘There will be no wedding today. Go to the church with a notice to that effect. The reverend can place it on the door.’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
When he’d gone the earl turned to his family, who were now gathered together in the one spot. Their faces were glum. The company was subdued, since the time had
long passed when a messenger should have informed them of Amber’s whereabouts.
The earl stated the obvious. ‘The delay has bought her abductors time. They already have the ransom money and could be anywhere by now. We must hope that Miss Hartford is still alive, and must find her as soon as possible.’ He was interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘I told you not to disturb us unless there was sufficient reason?’ he growled when the butler entered.
‘Begging your pardon, My Lord, I believe there is sufficient reason. There are two strangers at the gate requesting admittance. One states that he’s Lord Hartford. He’s leading a wounded man on another horse, who said he’s acquainted with Viscount Costain. His name is Matt Striker.’
‘Matt Striker?’ Benedict’s brow cleared. ‘Yes, I know Matt. He helped me rescue Amber Rose from her cousin and is in the revenue service. ‘Lord Hartford is with him, you say? Does this mean he had nothing to do with the abduction?’
‘There’s only one way to find out, the earl said and turned to the butler. ‘Tell the gatekeeper to relieve them of any weapons they may be carrying, Bring them to my study. We’ll interrogate them there.’
‘Yes. My Lord.’
The countess smiled at her husband. ‘Not too rigorously, I hope, James. One of the men is wounded, after all. And didn’t Ben say he knew him.’
‘I do, and will vouch for his integrity. I can’t say the same for Patrick Hartford though. The man’s a disgrace.’
Do you know what’s wrong with this wounded man?’ his father said to the butler.
‘I believe he’s been shot, Sir.’
‘It would be better to lay the wounded man out on the table in the laundry room if he’s bleeding. Has anyone got the stomach to remove a ball?’
‘I’ll have a look at it,’ Archie offered. ‘If it’s too deep he’ll need a surgeon.’
Kitt offered to help, in case the patient needed holding down.
‘We’ll prepare something to cleanse the wound with in case it becomes infected, and a herbal pack and bandages to aid healing,’ the countess said, and she motioned to her daughters who followed her out with a show of reluctance.’
Emma was disappointed at not being part of the interrogation. ‘Why do men always get to do the exciting stuff,’ she cried out as soon as the drawing room door closed behind them.
‘If you think digging a bullet out of a man is exciting I’ll ask your father to allow you to assist your husband,’ her mother told her.
‘You know very well that Emma meant the interrogation, Mamma,’ Caroline said in her sister’s defence.
‘And you know very well that men have to be allowed to take the lead in such matters. We can only advise them of the way to go about it in a more gentle fashion. Don’t worry, my dears. No doubt we’ll be allowed to apply our healing lotions and bandages once the poor man has been butchered by your husbands.’
When her daughters pulled a wry face, Imogene’s smile faded. ‘I cannot imagine what that poor girl has been going through, and feel that Ben will be quite ruthless in his pursuit of her abductors.’
‘Ben might kill them out of hand,’ Emma said with a touch of relish as they reached the still room.
Imogene looked worried. ‘I do hope my son has more restraint than that. I must ask your father to advise him.’
‘Oh, Mama. You know very well that papa has so much passion in him that he’d throttle anyone who laid a finger on you, or us, and without asking them questions first. So how can he advise Ben? Papa wouldn’t stop to think, and since Ben is cut in his mould, neither will he.’
‘I imagine Ben will challenge that awful cousin of Amber’s to a duel,’ then Caroline added, clearly aghast, ‘What if Amber is ... ruined?’
The three women stared at each other for a few seconds, then Imogene murmured, ‘For her sake we will not consider that a catastrophe of that nature will occur. If it does then Ben will search his soul and follow his heart, and we will accept the decision he makes as the right one. After that it will be never mentioned again.’
Emma giggled. ‘I pray Ben doesn’t go all holy on us again.’
‘So do I?’ Imogene’s eyes began to sparkle when she laughed. ‘Knowing his father, I’m not such a fool to imagine his son is less than manly when he’s with Amber, any more than I imagined you to be reticent with your prospective husbands. In fact, I’m certain none of you were in the least bit shy since God designed men and women to enjoy each other, and the attraction is hard to resist when the affections are involved.’
‘Mamma!’ they both exclaimed going rather pink in the face.
Imogene grinned as she set a mortar and pestle on the marble table. ‘Being regarded as a saint by one’s children is annoying. Kindly remember you were created in exactly the same manner as you created my grandchildren.’
Emma said, ‘When I was a child I asked the reverend why Caroline and I were exactly the same. The reverend said you were doubly blessed.’
After the three stopped laughing, Imogene said, ‘Pass that St John’s Wort, would you dear. We’ll mix it with some aloe so it doesn’t burn the skin. Caroline, you can collect the aloe from the garden while Emma prepares the bandages.’
Pink-faced, but grinning at each other, Imogene’s two daughters began to scurry to her bidding.
From a high shelf she took down a wooden box containing scissors, knives, and odds and ends, such as needles and strong thread. She handed it to one of the kitchen servants who stood by. It hadn’t been used very often.
‘Make sure these implements are washed and dried, and the razor honed. Place them on a clean tray and take them through to the laundry maid. Tell her to spread a clean and folded sheet on the laundry table. Set out some clean cloths, towels and a bowl with soap warm water. And tell cook to keep a kettle boiling on the hob in case it’s needed. We’re expecting a wounded man.’
* * * *
While Matt was stoically being doctored, Benedict and his father were questioning Patrick Hartford in the study. His father’s agent was also in attendance.
‘So, with Stephen Gould you were a party to the plot to abduct your cousin.’
Unhappily, Patrick nodded.
‘You’re a coward, sir,’ the earl told him. ‘Would you have gone ahead with the plan if Stephen Gould hadn’t double-crossed you?’
Patrick shrugged. ‘At the time I hadn’t heard that he’d tried to kill Jonas. Then Matt Striker appeared riding Jonas’s horse. Stephen shot him, and then insisted that I administer a coup-de-gras.’
‘You attempted to kill a wounded man?’
‘No, My Lord. I saw he was alive and pretended to shoot him, then I went back to the charcoal burner’s cottage to wait. Stephen was supposed to bring my cousin to the cottage.’
‘You’re a disgrace, Sir.’
‘I’m aware of that, My Lord, but you telling me so doesn’t make me any more of a disgrace, and neither does it help to find my cousin.’
The acerbic answer Patrick Hartford had aimed at the earl surprised and impressed Benedict. When his back was against the wall Hartford had guts of a sort, after all.
‘I did try and find the wounded man, but it was too dark. I discovered him this morning and learned he was on his way here with a message. That’s when I discovered that Stephen cracked Jonas over the head and pushed him in the harbour. He must have suspected he would warn someone. He was near death when Matt Striker pulled him out, and is suffering from broken bones.’
Benedict shuffled from one foot to the other. The man may have acted like a rogue, but he was trying to put things right. Patrick could have left Matt to fend for himself and taken off like a cowardly cur. All the same, he was responsible for the plight Amber now found herself in, he reminded himself.
Patrick said, ‘I’m worried Stephen may have killed Amber, as was his original plan. He’d have nothing to gain except the ransom and the thrill of doing it.’
Straightening up, Benedict said quietly, ‘You’d have had something to ga
in. Her fortune.’
‘I rather thought that you were after it, Costain.’
The earl managed to prevent his son from hitting Hartford. ‘You should have stopped Gould.’
‘He watched my every move. He knew I’d never killed a man, which is why he wanted me to shoot Matt in cold blood - so I’d be involved in the crime. I’ve got no stomach for killing. I think he may have changed his plan at the last minute, when he realised I wasn’t going to go along with it.’
Benedict wondered how far this changed attitude would last if Hartford was pushed to the limit. ‘Take notice. Whatever the outcome of this affair for Amber, I intend to call you out when it’s all over - and I will kill you.’
Patrick paled, but said nothing.
‘Was it you who collected the ransom?’
‘No. It would have been Maisie from the inn, I imagine. She’s young and impressionable.’
‘Try and find her.’ The earl nodded to his agent who swiftly left the room and headed for the stable.
‘Think, man. Do you have any idea where he may have taken your cousin.’
‘He’d planned to use the cottage, but I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He may have taken her to Hartford House. He knows where the key is, and it’s empty and isolated. It’s been sold, but the new owner doesn’t take up residence until next week.’
‘Is there anywhere she can hide if she escapes him?’
‘I’ve only visited the house a few times. There are cellars and attics, and there was talk of a secret passage by the servants. There often is in old houses, though.’
Jake came into Benedict’s mind. Amber was close enough to him to have told him her secrets. Leaving his father to handle the rest of the interrogation he went upstairs, taking them two at a time. Apart from Jake, the children were unaware of what had taken place.
The boy gazed anxiously at him when he took him aside. ‘Is there any news, sir?’
‘Not yet, Jake. You might be able to help though. Can you remember Miss Amber talking about a secret passage.’
