Benedict's Bride

by Janet Woods

  ‘Yes, Sir. She took me through it. It starts in the hallway. There’s a cupboard under the stairs, for boots and capes and stuff. At the high end is a wooden door that can be slid to one side. It looks like a panel and has a hole in so you can put your finger through to lift the latch. There’s some stairs going down, then a longer passage, and some stairs going up.’

  ‘Where does the tunnel come out?’

  ‘In the tack room in the stable. There’s a big iron trap door in the floor that lifts up, except we couldn’t go up through it because Miss Amber wasn’t strong enough to lift it by herself, and it wouldn’t budge. She said that one of her ancestors was a smuggler, and he used the tunnel to hide goods in. She said her grandfather was going to have it filled in because rats use it to gain access to the house now and again. But he died before he could.’

  The tunnel seemed to have made a great impression on the boy. ‘Thank you, Jake. I’ll go and look for her at Hartford House. I’ll let you know that she’s safe as soon as I can.’

  ‘Miss Amber will be all right, Sir, won’t she?’

  He took the boy’s hands in his. ‘I won’t be less than honest with you, Jake. She’s in grave danger, but I’ll do my best to rescue her.’

  ‘Be careful in the tunnel, sir,’ Jake said in a trembling voice. ‘You’re tall and the roof in the tunnel is low. We had to use a lantern to find our way. And even though it’s built of brick, here and there one or two had fallen into the tunnel and water had leaked through.’ He shuddered. ‘It smelled.’

  ‘You’ve remembered the directions accurately, I hope, Jake, since I won’t have a lantern.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I didn’t like the place because it pressed in. I was scared that the roof might cave in and we’d be buried, or the candle might go out and I’d be lost. Miss Amber said we couldn’t get lost because there was only one beginning and one end to the tunnel. And she promised me that it wouldn’t cave in since it had been there for a hundred years or more.’

  Benedict didn’t feel reassured by the boy’s words. A hundred years of the earth pressing down on the bricks would only weaken the structure. ‘I’ll be careful.’

  The smiling faces of his nieces and nephews had reminded him that he’d involved his brothers-in-law enough. Downstairs, he said to his father. ‘I’m going to leave straight away, before Kitt and Archie get wind of it. Delay them as long as you can, this isn’t their fight.’

  When father and son exchanged an embrace there was no need for words.

  ‘Allow me accompany you,’ Patrick said when Benedict turned away. ‘I could be of some help, or at least prove a distraction.’

  A laugh grated from him. ‘I want the man to know why he’s dying.’

  ‘And I want to redeem myself in my cousin’s eyes before I die,’ Patrick said in a low voice. ‘Don’t deny me that. Besides, you cannot challenge him. He has no rank.’

  ‘I can,’ Kitt said strolling into the room with Archie behind him. ‘You weren’t considering leaving us behind, were you, Ben.’

  ‘I don’t want my sisters to be widowed, gentlemen.’

  Archie laughed. ‘Neither do we, so we’ll be careful. Now, let’s not waste time arguing but get on our way before the women get wind of it.’

  ‘What about me?’ Patrick said.

  Benedict was inclined to trust Patrick at this time. The man had no stomach for killing in cold blood, so at the very least he wouldn’t have to watch his own back. Even so, Benedict took him by his lapels and engaged his eyes. ‘As long as you’re aware it will make no difference to the outcome for you. If any harm has befallen Amber I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth to avenge her. Do you understand?’

  Patrick gave a small sigh of resignation and nodded.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stephen smiled with relief when Maisie stepped ashore on the quay at Poole.

  She was wind-blown, pale-faced, out of temper and clutching her stomach. ‘I felt sick all the way, and thought I’d never reach dry land,’ she grumbled.

  The fisherman dropped her bags on to the quayside. ‘Here she is, sir, safe and sound. God knows what she’s got in those two bags, but they be so heavy she can hardly lift them.’

  ‘It aint none of your business what a lady keeps in her bags,’ Maisie said peevishly.

  Stephen managed a laugh as he threw a guinea to the man, though he felt like slapping her. She’d worn a garish green gown that matched the oversized bow on bonnet. It drew attention. ‘You know what women are like, they can’t leave anything behind.’

  ‘What’s wrong with it,’ she snapped, when he mentioned the colour of her dress. ‘Those satchels were so heavy I had to leave everything I had behind, so I wore my best one. And look at it, all wet from salt water and smelling of fish. It will be covered in stains when it dries. You’ll have to buy me something new ... that nice red one you promised me.’

  Stephen could barely hide his shudder. She was strident, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be with him for much longer. He took her to a room at a boarding house, took advantage of her body which helped improve her mood, and his, then left her with a ten guineas to spend on herself. Her eyes lit up at the sight of it. ‘That be a fortune.’

  ‘Buy your red gown. I’ll be back for you tomorrow afternoon and we can go on board then,’ he lied.

  ‘Aye, but you said we were getting married.’

  ‘We are, its arranged. The captain will marry us as soon as the ship puts out to sea.’

  She moved to the window and gazed out over the harbor. ‘Which ship are we going on, Stephen?’

  He waved a hand towards a tangle of masts swaying back and forth with the motion of the water. ‘It’s over there, you can’t see it from here.’ He kissed the back of her neck. ‘I’d better go before the landlady comes up to see what we’re up to.’

  ‘That sour old cat would only be jealous.’

  Although she didn’t know it, Maisie was referring to Sally Bowers, who ran the local whorehouse as well as the boarding house. Usually the place was occupied by passengers waiting to board their ships. She’d soon provide Maisie with a job when she ran out of money.

  ‘The High Street is in that direction if you need the shops. He gave her an extra guinea. Buy yourself something sensible to wear on board, as well. I don’t want the seamen leering at you.’

  A coquettish look came his way. ‘You do love me, don’t you?’

  ‘Would I be going to all this trouble if I didn’t?’ Shrugging into his coat he gave her a quick hug, picked up the money satchels and left her, feeling pleased with the way things were working out. Maisie had been worth every penny of the money he’d given her, but she was already fading from his mind as he headed out of town.

  * * * *

  Sally Bowers watched him go. Then she saw the girl come out of the boarding house to strut confidently towards the shops in her bright dress, smiling boldly at the men who glanced at her.

  Sally assessed her. She was young and good-looking with a fine pair of breasts, a strong back and well-muscled flanks that would hold her in good stead. Her flirtatious and knowing manner told Sally her virginity was long dispensed with.

  A smile sped across her face. She must make the girl’s acquaintance for she’d need some help and advice in a day or so, especially when her man didn’t come back to pay the rent.

  * * * *

  Jonas Carlton was on the cart being taken to the infirmary when he saw Maisie. Telling the driver to stop he called out her name.

  She came to the cart and laughed as she looked down on him. ‘You look as though you’ve been in the wars, Jonas. Stephen is in town.’

  ‘Then for God’s sake don’t tell him you’ve seen me. He thinks I’m dead.’

  Maisie’s smiled faltered. ‘Why would he think that?’

  ‘Because he hit me over the head and pushed me into the harbor.’

  She tossed her head. ‘It must have been someone else. If I tell Stephen what you’ve said about hi
m, he will kill you then.’

  ‘And you, most likely, for knowing too much. Beware of him, Maisie. I’m advising you for your own good. Has he involved you in that scheme with Lord Hartford to kidnap his cousin?’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lord Hartford isn’t with him. Stephen’s going to marry me as soon as we get on board –’ She clapped a hand over her mouth, then giggled. ‘I’m supposed to keep it a secret.’

  He felt sorry for her. ‘For pity’s sake, Maisie, Stephen’s using you. He’s ruthless. He won’t marry you, and by now the Costain family will be after him because I sent someone to warn them yesterday.’

  ‘Then why didn’t they come after me when I collected the ransom?’

  ‘Why indeed? Matt Springer had given himself plenty of time. Jonas hoped that the revenue man hadn’t come to any harm. And if Patrick wasn’t with Stephen, it was quite possible he’d killed them both ... Amber Hartford as well.

  ‘Leave town,’ he warned. ‘Go back to where you belong before it’s too late.’

  ‘I’m never going back, and you’re a liar. Stephen loves me and we’re going to be wed.’

  ‘Don’t say you haven’t been warned, Maisie.’

  She gazed at him for a moment, uncertain. Then money jingled as she put her hand in her pocket. She brought out a gold coin and smiled as she tossed it. The coin glinted in the sun as it spun. Deftly she caught in and slipped it back into her pocket.

  ‘Silly girl,’ he murmured as she stuck her nose in the air and walked off. ‘You’re going to have to learn from experience, the same as I did.’

  * * * *

  Amber’s moods alternated between anger, boredom and despair.

  At the moment she was feeling sorry for herself. She was ravenously hungry. Her stomach rattled and gurgled in protest. The ache in her head had grown with each gulp of wine, her mouth was dry and stale ... and tears trickled down her cheeks.

  The bout of self-pity made her hate herself. ‘Go on, cry,’ she flung into the darkness. ‘A lot of good that will do you.’

  Anger filled her body and she screamed out with the energy of her hate, ‘Let me out, you coward, while I’ve got strength left to kill you.’

  She smiled at the thought, imagining Stephen losing his footing on the bottles, tumbling head-over-heels down the stair then tripping over the cord. If that didn’t kill him she’d hit him over the head with the iron ladle.

  She began to tremble as her anger evaporated leaving her weak. She huddled into the mattress, the dirty blanket clutched against her body, her knees drawn up against her stomach to try and warm her feet. Chills ran through her body, and the air she breathed smelled of mould.

  What if she’d been left here to die ... what if nobody thought to look for her here before it was too late? Her heart began to thump erratically, until the noise filled her chest and rose into her ears. She pinched her wrist hard to quell her rising panic and took long deep breaths to calm herself. Into the calm came the sound of the clock, modulated and stately. Bong ... Bong ... Bong. But was it three in the morning or the afternoon?

  In sudden confusion she tried to count backwards. Being brought here seemed such a long time ago. She was trapped like a rat in a hole. Her small surge of energy fled. She lay there, apathetic and disorientated, gazing into the darkness before sleep provided her with an escape from her fears.

  She jerked suddenly awake. There had been a noise - not a squeak, a chime or a creak, but a proper noise. The sound another person might make. There was a scuff of footsteps that stopped outside the cellar door. She could almost smell someone.

  ‘Who is it?’ she whispered, then came upright and said louder. ‘Who is it? I’m down here in the cellar.’

  ‘I know you are, my dear. I put you there.’

  Hairs prickled along her neck as she recognised the voice and she said in despair. ‘Is my cousin with you, Stephen? I want to talk to him.’

  He chuckled. ‘Patrick lost his nerve for the game. I never realised he was so weak in the stomach until it was nearly too late.’

  ‘He’s twice the man you are. Let me out. I’ll pay you.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve already been paid. Lord Costain handed over one thousand guineas for your safe return.’

  ‘So you’re going to let me out.’

  ‘Of course I am.’ Her mood lightened then was crashed down again when he said. ‘But only to keep me entertained this evening. Costain won’t want you after that, anyway.’

  Benedict wouldn’t want her? Her face paled as the meaning became clear. ‘You have the ransom. Why don’t you allow me to go?’

  ‘Because you know who I am.’

  ‘I’ll double the ransom if you release me unharmed.’

  He chuckled. ‘You’re not such a fool, and neither am I.’

  ‘Do you think Lord Costain won’t guess where I’m being kept and come looking for me.’

  ‘He might, but guessing it and proving it is two different things. It’s my guess that they’ll have Patrick in custody for murder by now.’

  Wide-eyed, she stared into the darkness. ‘Patrick has killed someone?’

  ‘Your cousin is too cowardly to kill a mouse.’

  Her flare of relief was short-lived.

  ‘The evidence will point to him, though. I imagine he’ll be questioned rigorously. They’ll want to know what happened to his friend, Jonas, as well as to you.’

  ‘Jonas Carlton? But he’s in London. I saw him barely a week ago at the home of his uncle.’

  ‘Ah yes ... Jonas told me that you took him to task. You’ll be pleased to hear that you had a profound effect on him. He flatly refused to take part in this affair. He decided to go home to his uncle, present himself as a reformed character and then beg his forgiveness. I stopped him.’

  She didn’t bother to ask him how, she didn’t want the details. She was just sorry she hadn’t allowed Jonas to apologise. If she had he’d still be alive. ‘Patrick will tell them I’m here.’

  Stephen laughed. ‘But he doesn’t know you’re here. He might think of it, of course, but by the time they arrive I’ll be long gone and you’ll be dead.’

  ‘You’re going to kill me?’ Terror raced through her. ‘How?’

  ‘Oh, I won’t do anything nasty to you, unless you provoke me beyond endurance. I’ll just leave you in the cellar so you can starve to death. I daresay the new owner will get a bit of a fright when he finds your body. They might think it was a tragic accident, that you accidentally locked yourself in. Most likely they’ll blame it on Patrick. After all, he is your beneficiary and you’ve inherited a sizeable fortune to leave him. In the years to come your ghost can have some fun haunting this place.’

  Amber bit down on her tongue. He’d gloat if he knew that she’d purchased Hartford House. ‘May I have a candle for light and some water to drink,’ she said in a low voice.

  There was a clunk of a key in the lock and the door was swung open. She shielded her eyes from the sudden glare of lantern light with her arm. When her eyes adjusted she gazed up at his tall figure, though his face was too shadowed to see it.

  Behind him was escape, the passage that led to the hall, to the front door or to the stairs to the upper regions of the house. There she could think of half a dozen places to hide.

  When he dipped a foot on to the first stair she tensed and held her breath. He drew his foot back, picked up a bottle, looked at the label and stood it upright, saying, ‘Your grandfather’s brandy is too good to waste.’ To her dismay he laughed as he began to kick the rest of the bottles from the step. ‘I’m not such a fool as you imagine, Amber. Dismantle your man traps then you can come up.’

  Doing as she was told she went up towards the light. Stephen tied her hands behind her back, hobbled her ankles so she couldn’t run, then slipped the leading rein around her neck again. He looked her up and down then laughed. ‘Oh dear, what a filthy, raggle-taggle creature you are. Still pretty though. I’m sure I’ll find
a use for you later. He stooped to pick up the bottle, then kissed her on the mouth.

  Amber determined to put up with the grinding wetness of it, but then she nearly gagged. She couldn’t kick or hit him, so she sank her teeth into his bottom lip.

  ‘You bitch!’ He backhanded her across the face so hard that she cried out with the pain of it. His eyes were like angry wasps as he gazed into hers. ‘No matter. I like a little resistance. There’s nothing quite so exciting as an unwilling woman.’

  Pressing a handkerchief against the welling blood he jerked on the rein, dragging her, almost choking, along the passage behind him to the dining room. The silver had gone from the table and sideboard, the solid silver candlesticks and trays were no longer in their usual places. The windows were still shuttered. The gaps in the boards showed it was early evening and the gloaming light was faintly purple.

  There was some bread, ham and cheese on the table ... a bowl of apples from the orchard. Stephen pushed her into a chair, opened the bottle and looked for some glasses, kicking the doors to the sideboard shut when he couldn’t see them. She could have told him where they were but was disinclined to be helpful.

  Eventually, he found them in the cupboard set into the wall, which had been fitted out with wine and glass racks so to act as a dispensary for the convenience of the servants. He threw her a dark look when she smiled.

  ‘You’ll have to untie my hands so I can eat and drink.’

  ‘Will I?’ He poured the brandy into a glass, almost filling it, then held it to her mouth. ‘Drink it.’

  She turned her head aside. ‘I don’t want brandy. I’d like some water.’

  Stephen didn’t argue. He held her nose until she opened her mouth then poured the brandy inside. Some spilled over her chin and down her front. Coughing and spluttering she gulped down the rest. Fire spread from her stomach into her limbs.

  When he ate a chunk of bread piled high with ham and cheese, her mouth watered. He followed it with an apple so juicy that when crunched between his teeth the juice spurted down his chin. His glance never left her as he savored each bite. Eventually there was nothing left but a few crumbs.