Madness

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  The stranger put his hand over his brow as a visor, then froze.

  “Miranda!” he shouted. Then he began running around the house and up toward the main bridle path, armed with only a bow and quiver full of arrows.

  He had evidently seen Oxnard fleeing with the screaming child and knew the woman.

  Simon ran on himself, and heard the man let out a bellow which shook the trees.

  The man he guessed to be George dropped his weapons and began to charge like a bull. “Oxnard, you bastard! Let her go!!”

  Simon felt his heart lift slightly. He now had an unexpected ally, and plunged onwards after the kidnapper of his beloved nephew.

  Oxnard had been heading for the road, but the second man in hot pursuit caused him to veer off. The woman struggling furiously, slowing him down, finally caused him to cut his losses. He let her go, and ran on with only the babe.

  Simon felt his heart lurch in his chest at the sight. Lord in Heaven, it was up to him now. He simply couldn’t fail his wife and Lucinda.

  “Miranda!” the man gasped, running up to kiss and comfort the woman, who fell into his embrace.

  Simon heard their voices in the distance, the word baby, and ran on. He could see the man grab the pistol out of her hand, though she begged him not to kill Oxnard, and charged off after the fleeing earl.

  Oxnard ran on blindly, trying to find a place to conceal himself. Simon kept a close eye on him as he stormed through the forest. The tree branches were all too high, the road now a good distance away. There were few ferns or bracken to offer much cover.

  Simon could hear another set of running feet nearby, and saw Lawrence Howard had tried to skirt around the house in order to cut off the insane earl.

  Oxnard was forced to swerve and head back into the forest, almost directly in the path of the other outraged man, George, who was continuing the pursuit despite his lady being safe, and who looked fit to kill him.

  Well, Simon himself would undoubtedly have been if he had grabbed his woman, he thought as he hurried on. And would be fit to kill him if his sister-in-law Lucinda didn’t recover from the gunshot wound Oxnard had inflicted upon his own wife.

  Simon charged on, and saw with relief two more men now appeared at the top of the bridle path.

  Simon squinted into the sun, but recognised a thatch of sandy hair. “Jonathan!” Simon shouted. “Stop that man! He’s got Christopher, my nephew!”

  Jonathan, lowering himself in his saddle to duck under the branches, immediately went in pursuit straight down the bridle path.

  Oxnard switched direction again and began to crash through the trees. He could feeling his breath burning in his lungs as he ran like a fox, knowing any moment that one or the other of the two men was going to snap his neck like a pullet if he didn’t find a safe haven soon.

  He certainly hadn't expected so much resistance. Trust those little whores to already have male protectors…

  Simon prayed that the other man George would refrain from shooting the fleeing Oxnard. He would die if anything happened to little Christopher.

  He would have shouted at him not to fire, but his breath was coming so hard and fast he could scarcely make a sound.

  If anything happened to that baby, Simon swore in his heart, he would take great delight in squeezing the life from Oxnard. Assuming the other man haring through the trees didn’t beat him to it first.

  But no, Simon decided, he would do it. He had killed before. He would gladly kill again to protect his family. There was no sense in the other man damaging his soul, when Simon was sure he was already damned for all the people he had killed, or sent to their deaths.

  He offered up thanks to the gods for the heaven on earth he had found with Gabrielle. There would be a price to pay, he knew. There always was.

  But her love was all that mattered. And he would do anything to keep it, keep her. Oxnard was a fiend. He had shot his own wife. God only knew what he would do to the baby.

  Simon had no doubt that the mad earl was now desperate enough that it had come to the stage of kill or be killed. After all, he had pretended to be dead in order to trick them all.

  Simon slipped on some leaf marl at this thought, and prayed again that Oxnard would finally get what he deserved.

  Simon looked up ahead and could see the three men in pursuit, and this spurred him on. They were all determined to save the child. Four were stronger together than one man on his own, and two of them had mounts.

  He had no idea who the other chap was with Jonathan, but he knew the worldly vicar had served admirably in the war for a number of years. He hoped he was someone with a similar resourceful background. They would catch him. They just had to. He needed this to be over at last.

  “Put the baby down now, Oxnard!” the other man who he guessed to be George shouted as he wove in and out of the trees.

  “Put him down and just keep on running. I’ll give you one chance to let him go, and then I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

  “This is nothing to do with you, Davenant!” Oxnard shouted back. “What I do with my own son is my concern! Stay out of this, or I’ll be sure that whore you consort with never knows a day’s peace. Or a night’s once I snatch her out of your grasp again.”

  Simon was about to repeat the demand to let the baby go when George growled low in his throat, a primal sound that sent shivers up and down the spines of everyone who heard it.

  The thudding of approaching hooves suddenly echoed throughout the forest. The huge dark man on the fine black horse snatched the infant right out of Oxnard’s arms, grabbing him by the collar of his little shirt and settling him into the saddle in front of him, cradling him tenderly.

  “I’ve got him, he’s all right!” he called.

  Simon offered up a prayer of thanksgiving, but neither man slowed in their pursuit.

  Oxnard looked left and right and saw them bearing down upon him now. Sheer terror spurred him on.

  Up ahead he saw the walls of an old ruined monastery, and ran on as if his life depended on it. Which it did, for he was sure he could not count on an ounce of mercy from either man.

  He had no idea who the other chaps were, but he was sure if Davenant caught him, he was a dead man for what he had done to Miranda…

  He veered left across the path of the second man, wondering who the hell all these blokes were and why they were willing to help his wife of all people. The little whore....

  He broke cover at last, and frantically tried to find a place to hide. Suddenly the ground underneath him was no longer solid, and he felt himself hurtling downwards like a stone into the black abyss.

  His limbs flailed, and with one last terrified scream Oxnard tumbled into the dark cavern head first. He landed with a sickening thud fifty feet below.

  The trees at the edge of the clearing all shimmered, their leaves dancing with joy in the glorious sunshine. The wind whispered through them, and then was still.

  Simon and the other man had by now both reached the edge of the clearing, and stared into the gaping maw a foot away. Both shook their head incredulously. Had Oxnard not seen the great canyon?

  They hung onto each other’s shoulders and upper arms as the ground shook. They tumbled backwards as the edges of the cavern began to slide downwards, burying Oxnard under a mountain of rubble.

  Even if by some miracle he was still alive after the terrible fall, he had now been buried alive, interred in the bowels of the earth forever.

  Simon and the other man waited until the shaking had subsided, and once they were sure it was safe, offered a hand blindly, and helped each other to their feet. They began to brush themselves down, muttering their somewhat bashful thanks for helping bring the foul Oxnard to justice at last.

  “He certainly won’t be missed. Bloody canard.” The huge man spat into the hole to clear his mouth of dirt, and release the last of his pent-up fury.

  Simon was surprised at the insult uttered in French. “Thank you. I don’t know what I wou
ld have done without you.”

  “Don’t mention it. It was a pleasure to see that bastard dead at last. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. That sure was close, though,” Simon said, hacking up the plumes of soil and debris he had inhaled.

  The dark man tried to cuff the dust out his own eyes with one mired sleeve.

  Simon reached into his pocket and offered him a handkerchief. "Here, take this. It's clean. My wife would tell you never to rub an eye with soot in it. She worked at the clinic for women at Bethnal Green as a nurse, so she knows what she’s talking about.”

  George paused mid-rub. “The Bethnal Green clinic?” Something sparked off in his head. Dr. Herriot. His assistant. The tarts at Bedlam. “She isn’t called Clarissa by any chance, is she?”

  Simon looked at him in surprise. “No, Gabrielle. She does have a friend called Clarissa though. And her sister is Lucinda. That’s her baby you all helped save.”

  The man stood still as a stone, blinking his watery eyes, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing.

  Simon wondered at the reaction slightly, but he was already looking up the path in relief as Jonathan and the dark rider now came galloping near to make sure their friends had not been swallowed by the cataclysmic quake.

  “You two chaps all right? George? Simon?” Jonathan asked worriedly.

  Alexander had already swung down off his mount and now offered the child to Simon. He stared into glinting gold eyes. Eyes which mirrored his own.

  “Your nephew, did you say?” the man asked, his voice trailing off as he watched the chap cradle the baby against his chest in a tender way which was truly moving.

  “I did. My nephew Christopher.”

  “Fine lad. Very fine.” But Simon sensed that it was he himself Alexander was now staring at.

  “My God,” Jonathan breathed, staring now himself. “It’s not possible. And yet I see miracles happen every day.”

  Simon felt a prickle up his spine, but told himself to not be silly. There was nothing to be nervous about. These men were not going to harm him, not with Jonathan so near.

  Simon cuddled the infant and looking him over for any sign of injury. “I’ll have to get Blake or Eswara to examine him. Her home is closest. If you wouldn’t mind letting me borrow your mount, sir,” he said to the dark rider, “I should be most grateful.

  "Or I can swing up behind if you will continue to be so kind as to take him up with you and hold him a bit longer. And I must find my wife and sister-in-law, who was shot by that madman.”

  The silence was so profound he could have sworn he heard his own heart beat. No. Three hearts beating in time.

  At last he looked up to meet a pair of brown eyes so pale as to be nearly gold, and another pair so dark as to be almost black.

  “My God,” Jonathan said again. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Alexander said. “I’ll be glad to ride along with you, Simon. My brother.”

  Simon frowned slightly. Then he looked harder. And looked again. “Jason?” he gasped.

  “Alexander now. Alexander Deveril. Formerly Jason Alexander Davenport.”

  The other man called George, overwhelmed utterly, began to weep, and all eyes now turned to him.

  “Oh God, you have no idea. Jason, Simon. I’ve been looking for you for years, Jason. And you, Simon. When they told me you had been captured I prayed like I’d never prayed before that one day I would see you again. Six years of doing nothing but waiting, hoping, chasing shadows, and here you are. Here.”

  “George? Georges?” Simon and Alexander both said simultaneously.

  “Aye, it’s me. I’m alive too. Alive, and no longer bitter and alone.”

  The time for male stoicism was now at an end. They all began to weep in earnest, and hugged each other as though they would never let each other go.

  Jonathan certainly couldn’t manage to keep his eyes dry, but he was the only one not completely overcome with emotion.

  At length he said, “I think we need to get back to see what’s happened to Lucinda, and to reassure everyone that Christopher is fine and Oxnard can’t harm anyone any more.

  "Come, Simon, hand the baby up here to me, and swing up behind. George and Alexander can share. We’ll be back in a trice. Then I think we need to adjourn to Lawrence’s house for some much-needed explanations.”

  Simon held the baby up for the vicar once he had mounted. Simon was numb with shock and relief, and a host of other emotions, but eager to get back to Gabrielle and Lucinda to see how they fared, and to tell his beloved his miraculous news.

  Jonathan grasped the infant firmly, before offering him an arm up. With one last embrace George hugged Simon. Next George and Alexander also embraced, then mounted and returned to the clearing following on close behind.

  Lucinda was sitting up, her shoulder bandaged thanks to Blake, still alive but completely in hysterics.

  "My son. My boy. Simon, bring him back. My son!"

  She leapt to her feet and ran amid a flurry of petticoats as soon as she saw the kind vicar with her child, and began to smother the infant in kisses.

  The dark-haired woman hurried forward and gasped, “Darling, are you all right?”

  “I couldn’t be better,” George replied. “Oxnard is dead and will never harm his wife and child again. Or you, my love. And I now have everything I’ve ever wanted in my life. And I have you to thank for it, my treasure.”

  “Me? I don’t understand. What’s happened?” she gasped.

  Gabrielle had moved forward to meet her lover as well, but it was too late.

  Simon could feel the darkness encroaching already. “I’m not mad. I’ve never been mad. They know I know things. They’ve left me here to rot. Couldn’t kill me in case they needed me. Please, I have to-” He began to twitch and looked at Gabrielle beseechingly. “Please, help me.”

  Gabrielle realised at last that every time he heard the phrase “I don’t understand,” he uttered the same formulaic phrase. “It’s all right, you’re safe. It’s not a real seizure. You’re safe here with friends. Darling, tell me what happened.”

  She helped him down off the horse and pulled him into her arms.

  He fell to his knees with her, and began to make sure she was all right after the dreadful ordeal with Oxnard. He ran his hands over her worshipfully and smothered her face in kisses. His eyes were full of tears as he accepted Lucinda’s hug as well.

  "Thank you. You kept your promise. You protected him, saved him."

  "I love you all. You're my family now. And while nothing can ever make up for all I lost, the three of you have brought me here, to this place, where everything has been found again."

  "I don't—" Gabrielle caught herself in time, and said instead, "What are you trying to tell us, my love?"

  "That I've found them."

  "Found who?"

  Gabrielle stared in shock as the tall dark man with nearly black eyes declared to the woman by his side, “My dearest Miranda, I would like you to meet my two brothers. Jason Alexander and Simon Andre D’Ambois.”

  Gabrielle gasped. “Ess, a, dee. SAD. Your tattoos.”

  "Yes, and this is my brother Georges. George. George Davenant, I think?"

  "Aye," he said, nodding.

  The other women in the clearing both stared at him, wondering if all of the upset with Oxnard had taken a toll on his sanity.

  But as Gabrielle looked around at the four men all looking moist-eyed and overjoyed, she realised with a lurch that he was actually telling the truth. He had found his family at last.

  The dark-haired woman held out her hand. “So very delighted. Oh, you have no idea.” Scattering all caution to the winds, the lovely young woman threw her arms around Alexander first, and Simon second. She even hugged the vicar for good measure as he beamed in delight.

  “And my wife Gabrielle, and her sister Lucinda, now officially a widow, for which we shall all thank the gods daily,” Simon said at last, in a
voice choked by emotion.

  “And I am therefore related to you all by marriage,” Jonathan explained, “for Alexander here is married to my sister Sarah," he said, pointing at the other dark haired, intelligent looking woman in a plain gown who had come over to stand nearby.

  "Come, let’s go find Lawrence and tell him the remarkable news. Then I’m going to tell the other Rakehells what’s happened. Don’t worry, we wouldn’t wish to intrude—”

  “Intrude?” the woman Miranda said with a laugh. “Lawrence is my brother-in-law, and Matthew my brother. Tell him to come.”