by Lucy Adams
The cheerful voice of her maid shattered the cold fears that had gripped Olivia so tightly, and she turned around to see Betty hurrying towards her.
“Did you need something, Lady Olivia?” Betty asked, clearly entirely unaware of what Olivia had heard. “Or are you in the ballroom for another reason?”
Olivia held up one hand to silence her maid, her eyes moving steadily across the room, wishing that she had some sort of light with which to seek out the dark corners.
“What is it?” Betty whispered, the smile dropping from her face almost at once. “Is there something the matter?”
Making to answer, Olivia was halted by the same, strange sound that seemed to carry across to her for only a moment before being chased away. Looking at her maid, she saw Betty’s eyes flare wide, one hand going to her mouth as she stared at Olivia.
Evidently, Betty had heard it too.
“What is it?” Betty asked again, although this time for an entirely different reason. “What can be making that unearthly sound?”
“And where is it coming from?” Olivia murmured, looping her arm through Betty’s and turning to face the dark ballroom once more. She would find out what was making that sound, no matter how quickly her heart beat nor how fearful her mind became. And whether she wished it or not, Betty would have to come with her—for this was not something Olivia felt able to face alone.
“Come,” she whispered, as Betty gave a silent nod, her eyes holding a good deal of fear. “Mayhap it is an injured animal requiring our aid.”
“Or mayhap it is a spirit sent to haunt those who have lived lives of wrongdoing,” Betty whispered, sending a tremor down Olivia’s spine as she took a few steps forward into the darkening ballroom.
Chapter Eleven
Something was making a terrible sound. Phillip could not tell what it was, but it was already beginning to grate, making his head pound all the more as he struggled to work out what it could be. It was a low moaning that seemed to come and go, flaring with a sudden intensity before dying away.
It was not until he opened his eyes that he realized the sound was coming from him.
Fear clutched at his heart as he looked all about him, seeing nothing but darkness. He had no idea where he was or how he had come here. He was sitting on the floor, he realized, his legs pushed up together, stiff and painful. With a groan, he tried to push himself upwards, only to fall back down hard as his legs refused to do as he asked them. The pain in his head grew, the agony at the back of his skull burning furiously. Phillip put his head in his hands, trying to regulate his breathing as a sense of panic set in.
He battled against it, knowing that it came from a place of fear. Fear that he did not know where he was, what had happened, or how he was to get out. The darkness seemed to swallow him up, so that even when he opened his eyes, he saw nothing at all. His chest grew tight as he battled to keep his composure, taking in long breaths and then letting them out slowly.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he tried to stand, finding nothing to grip on, nothing to hold on to as his legs wobbled. Forced to push himself back against the wall, he managed to stand, his hands flat against the wall as he tried to stop himself from swaying back and forth. With no light, it was impossible to hold onto his sense of balance, to the point that he turned around and leaned his head against the wall, finally feeling himself growing just a little calmer.
Where was he? He had no idea as to how he had come to be in this dark place, recalling that his only intention had been to meet with Lord Watt and the other men of the League so as to inform them about Lord Dayton and Lord Cammish’s intentions.
Screwing up his eyes, Phillip tried his best to remember what had happened. He had stepped out of his house and, having decided to hail a hackney to Lord Watt’s townhouse, he had begun to walk down the street. Had he ever managed to do so? Had he climbed into a hackney and instructed the man to take them there? He could not recall anything about what had happened to him, making him fear that something – or someone – had waylaid him as he attempted to travel to Lord Watt’s home.
Another groan escaped him, but this time it was not of pain but rather of frustration. He had not been as careful as he ought to have been, it seemed. It appeared he had not managed to infiltrate Lord Dayton and Lord Cammish’s meetings as he had thought. They must have thought him to be less than decisive and so had removed him from their path until the deed was done. Was he to linger here in darkness, only to emerge into a world where the Prince was now dead and buried? Or would he no longer have any life left within him, and thus be entirely removed from this world? The thought made his chest tighten with fear, worrying that he would be left alone in this crypt until he took his final breath.
“Is…is someone there?”
His head shot up, only for it to crack hard against something solid. A cry left his lips as he fell back, collapsing against the opposite wall. Nothing was said, no voice came to him again as he rubbed at his aching head, fearing that he might lose consciousness from the pain.
“Is…is someone there?” It was the same quavering voice, the same words spoke again, muffled through whatever it was that held him apart from them.
“I am here,” he said, his throat rough and his voice rasping. “Please, let me go. Do not leave me to die here.”
A loud whispering met his words, combined with another sudden scraping at what must be the door.
“Go and fetch a candle,” he heard someone say and, putting his hands out, Phillip tried to move towards the voice, even though he had no idea of where he was going. He tripped over something on the floor, something lying in his path, only to cough hard as a mouthful of dust filled his lungs.
“Who are you?” said the voice, as he tried to step forward, his hands still outstretched. He had moved barely any distance, but it felt as though it had been miles. His body was weak, his head in agony, and yet he clung to the voice as though it was the only light he could see.
“Why am I in here?” he asked, aware of just how thready his voice sounded. “Why keep me in darkness?” His hands found something hard, and he ran his fingers down it, suddenly finding the cool metal of the door handle.
His heart jerked in his chest. Trying to turn it, he found – much to his exasperation – that the door was locked tight. The sound of footsteps made him pause, listening hard at what was being said.
“Here,” said the second voice, now a little clearer than before. “Do be careful, Lady Olivia. We have no knowledge of who that is. They might very well be a thief come to steal Lord Dayton’s things at night!”
“Olivia?”
Phillip rested his head against the door, suddenly realizing precisely where he was. “Olivia, is that you?”
There was a moment of silence before her answer came. “Yes,” she said, slowly. “It is I.”
The sense of relief that came over him practically crushed Phillip as he gasped, his breathing ragged. “Lady Olivia,” he said, her name almost a gift to him as he spoke it. “It is Lord Monteforte. Please, might you help me from this place of darkness?”
Phillip waited, his hand pressed against the door where he believed her face might be, holding his breath as he waited for her to speak. When she did so, her voice was tight with emotion, her upset clear in her words.
“Lord Monteforte,” she answered, as the other voice began to murmur something indistinct. “I have been wondering where you were. Lord Watt also has been searching for you. I…” There was a momentary pause. “I do not know how to open this door for it has no key.”
“Then can you find it?” he asked, his voice filled with hope as his courage and strength began to return to him. “I do not think I can abide being in this place for much longer, Lady Olivia. And there is a good deal more serious at stake, more that I must do once I am freed.”
He could hear Lady Olivia sigh as she tried the door handle futilely. “I—I could go to my uncle’s study,” he heard her say, her voice a little quieter as i
f she were speaking to the maid. “There must be a key there.”
“You can’t think that your uncle…!”
“I do,” Lady Olivia said firmly. “Now, stay here and I will be back shortly.”
“No.” The maid’s voice was stern, as if she were a governess ready to give her charge a strict talking to. “No, Lady Olivia. I will go. You cannot be seen by any of the staff to be going into Lord Dayton’s study! I cannot imagine what would be said if they saw you do so. No.” She cleared her throat, perhaps trying to regain some strength. “I will go. Remain here, Lady Olivia. Pray that I am successful.”
Lady Olivia, much to Phillip’s relief, did not argue. Instead, she sighed heavily and Phillip could only hear footsteps hurrying away from where he stood, making him believe that the maid had gone without hesitation.
“I am sorry for what has happened to you.” Lady Olivia’s voice was soft, filled with sadness and just a hint of confusion. “Do you know how you came to be here?”
Shaking his head, Phillip let out a long breath. “No, I do not. I awoke only a short time ago to find myself encased in darkness. The last thing I remember is leaving my townhouse to visit Lord Watt.”
Another sigh. “Then why would my uncle do such a thing?”
He swallowed hard, wishing he could be by her side as he told her the truth rather than separated by a door. “If I tell you the truth, Lady Olivia, I fear you will be grievously upset.”
“I would rather know it regardless,” came the swift response. “My uncle has never held any sort of affection for me, and whilst I will not pretend that I have cared greatly for him, I have never thought he would do something such as this.” Her voice dropped to the point that he had to strain to hear it. “I cannot imagine how he could have done such a thing to you.”
Phillip closed his eyes, wanting to speak carefully and with wisdom so that he would not injure her more than was necessary. “My dear Lady Olivia, your uncle has been caught in a scheme to remove the Prince from his position here in England.”
The sharp intake of breath told him all he needed to know.
“Not that I have agreed to become involved,” he added hastily, for fear that she would think him equally guilty. “I work for the King, Lady Olivia. Lord Watt and I, as well as many others, all work together as one in order to bring peace and stability to our country. There are many spies within London, as well as gentlemen of the ton who will give information to the French in exchange for money or the like.”
“And you think my uncle is involved.”
“I believe Lord Cammish has involvement with the French, yes,” Phillip told her. “But I cannot say for your uncle. He has been caught up in Lord Cammish’s schemes and fully intends to remove the Prince from his position by any means he can, but whether or not it is for profitable gain or because he truly believes the monarchy would be better without Prinny, I cannot say.” He leaned his head against the door, wishing desperately that he could take her hand. “They believed me as equally eager for such a thing, but once I discovered the truth of their intentions, I sought to tell the others who work alongside me.”
“Including Lord Watt?” Lady Olivia’s voice was thin, and he was sure that, should he be able to see her, she would be pale with shock. “He seemed greatly disturbed that you had not appeared to call on me either.”
Phillip closed his eyes tightly. “Yes, Lord Watt was expecting me yesterday afternoon,” he said quietly. “He would have thought that something had caught me unexpectedly and that I was no longer able to call on him, for fear that I would give myself away.”
“Except it was, in fact, that my uncle sought to take you captive,” Lady Olivia muttered, clearly upset. “I do not know what is to become of us now.”
“Nothing shall befall you,” he said, suddenly filled with a new energy. “You know how I feel when it comes to you, Lady Olivia. No harm shall come to you, no ruining of your reputation or the like. I promise you that, should you be willing to trust me, I will give you all that I have as your own.”
There was a long silence. Phillip could barely breathe such was the tension in his stomach. How he longed to see Lady Olivia, to see the expression on her face so that he might know what she was thinking. As it stood, he could see nothing and was forced to wait, wondering desperately what was in her mind, what was in her heart. Would she choose her family or would she be willing to turn to him?
“I…I thought that such an interest might be nothing more than a ruse,” came Lady Olivia’s voice, quiet and frail in comparison to her usual vigor. “You did not only pretend an interest in me in order to grow closer to my family?”
He shook his head, as though she could see him. “No,” he promised, trying to fill his words with as much fervor as he could. “No, I did not. Everything I have said to you, everything I have asked you, has been nothing but the truth, Lady Olivia. I have longed to draw near to you, yearned to have your hand on my arm and your company by my side. I have never even considered matrimony, and now I find myself almost lost in the desire to do just that!” A small, wry laugh escaped him. “I am foolish even in my own eyes, but I can give you my word, Lady Olivia, that everything I have ever said to you is nothing but the truth.”
Again came the silence. Phillip waited to hear what she would say, wanted her to confirm that, yes, she would turn to him in the difficulties that would follow, but the silence was broken only by the sound of hurried footsteps. The air began to fill with tension as he heard the sound of a key being placed in the lock and, just as he stepped back, the door opened, and he was faced with the maid and Lady Olivia, both staring at him with wide eyes and pale faces. A single candle was held in the maid’s hand as she watched him, clearly astonished by his presence and certainly not at all clear as to what she ought to do.
“Where is your uncle this evening?” Phillip asked, taking a step forward and holding onto the door frame in an attempt to build his strength a little more. “Is he gone from the house?”
Lady Olivia nodded, putting one hand out slowly towards him. Phillip caught it as best he could, holding onto her fingers tightly and looking down into her face, knowing just what he was asking of her.
“Do you know where he is gone?” he asked quietly, as Lady Olivia blinked rapidly, tears pooling in her eyes. “I must know, Lady Olivia. If I am to stop this, then I must know it.”
“Of course,” Lady Olivia whispered, clearly deeply distressed. “He is gone to Lord Waterston’s home. They are to play cards there, I believe.”
He took a step forward, holding her hand tightly. “Then I must go there at once.” Trying to move forward, he took another staggering step, not quite managing to keep his footing. His vision became a little blurred as the pain in his head grew all the more steadily, forcing him to take an even tighter hold of Lady Olivia’s hands. “Or just as soon as I can manage.”
Lady Olivia swallowed hard but did not pull her hands from his, looking up into his face with concern. “I think we must inform Lord Watt that you are present here first,” she said carefully, as he swayed, his head still aching. “You cannot go and face my uncle alone, surely, not in this state?”
The maid, who had closed the door and locked it tightly, turned back to her mistress, a steely look in her eyes. “My lady is right,” she said firmly. “We must get you to a room where you will have a chance to lie down and recover. I will go to Lord Watt’s home at once and bring him here.”
Phillip opened his mouth to protest, about to state that he could not possibly be alone with Lady Olivia for fear of the scandal that might be caused should someone stumble in upon them, only to see Lady Olivia nodding. Clearly, she knew what the risks were, but she also was aware that he could not simply march out after her uncle, even though he might wish it. Everything in him wanted to run out to the street, to hail a hackney and to make his way to Lord Waterston’s, but given that he could barely walk without staggering and that his head ached so terribly he feared his skull was broken, Phillip kne
w there was very little sense in disagreeing.
“Do you think you will be able to climb the staircase?” Lady Olivia asked anxiously, wrapping one arm about his as the maid took the other. “I am not certain how we shall get you above stairs without someone noticing otherwise. I shall put you in the guest bedchamber, Lord Monteforte, and stay with you there.”
The maid hesitated, looking at Lady Olivia. “I will create a distraction below stairs,” she said slowly, as Lady Olivia nodded. “Lord Monteforte, do you think you can climb the staircase if Lady Olivia helps you?”
Phillip felt like saying that, at the present moment, he felt as though he might cast up his accounts, given how badly his stomach was now roiling, but all he could do was nod.
“Good,” the maid said firmly. “I will put the key back in the master’s study and then go below stairs. You will still have the maids in Lady Margaret’s rooms to contend with, but I will pray that they will stay where they belong and not trouble you.”
“We will have to go as quickly as we can,” Lady Olivia whispered, almost apologetically. “I am sorry if it adds to your pain.”
He shook his head then immediately regretted it. “I will manage,” he said through gritted teeth. “And then you must send word to Lord Watt. I know he will come here at once.”
Lady Olivia nodded but did not smile, her face set with a stern determination he had never seen before. With a look to her maid, she stepped forward and helped him walk across the ballroom, a strong anchor by his side. Giving into her strength and acknowledging his own weakness, Phillip forced himself to concentrate solely on putting one foot in front of the other, biting his lip against the pain in his head and praying that he would manage the staircase. The thought of putting his head down on a soft pillow seemed to be heaven to him, although he prayed that he would recover enough to aid Lord Watt when he arrived.
“I shall send for tea and refreshments to my own room and then will bring them to you,” Lady Olivia whispered, as the maid scurried away and as the staircase loomed before him. “You will be yourself again very soon, Lord Monteforte, I am sure of it.”
