A Warriner to Protect Her

by Virginia Heath

  Without thinking, she touched the gold band he had placed on her finger. Soon that would be the only thing she had left of him. It would always be her most treasured possession. His token of thanks which she had desperately hoped would be more. But, of course, the anticipated declaration of his affection had turned out to be nothing but a forlorn hope. Jack had not changed his mind about her unsuitability and Letty’s heart had shattered.

  Despite her mood, she wanted to mark the occasion, and to do it she was making chicken à la Braise again. The only twist, she hoped, was this time it would be edible. She had learned a great deal about the art of cooking in the last few weeks and was determined to do it properly. It was almost a badge of honour. A statement about how far she had come. The two sacrificial chickens were already roasting away nicely in the oven, completely devoid of feathers, and nesting in a rich, aromatic sauce made from reduced wine and herbs. Now she actually knew what reduce meant in a recipe, the final dish was definitely showing some promise. She plopped the last peeled carrot into the waiting pan of water to cook later, as vegetables, it turned out, did not need to be boiled to death for two hours. Then, with all the preparation done, she headed out into the hallway to freshen up and put on her homemade dress for the last time, too. Inside, Letty might be broken, but only Violet would be visible on the outside. She did not want their last memories of her to be of the real girl who didn’t quite pass muster.

  When the tears came, and they would, only Letty would ever see them. If this whole experience had taught her anything, it was that she was not prepared to settle for someone who did not adore her with the same depth and ferocity as she adored him. She was worth more than that. If Jack couldn’t see it, when she had bravely let her guard down for the very first time, then perhaps, some day, someone else would. And perhaps, if her heart ever healed, if the big gaping hole shaped like Jack Warriner ever closed, Letty would move on with her life as well. Because she, Letty Dunston, thwarter of kidnappers, housekeeper, maid, cook, sheep rescuer and soon to be benefactor of London’s most sympathetic foundling home, was worth it. So she would do her hair and dress prettily, and allow the Tea Heiress to sit at dinner in her stead one last time. When she got to Mayfair, she was determined not to bring her alter ego with her ever again. This was definitely Violet’s last performance and Letty was glad to be rid of her, so something positive had come from this whole heartbreaking experience. She knew she had outgrown the confines of her old life and was more than capable of tackling the challenges of the new one. More than capable and now completely independent for the first time.

  Rather bizarrely, she felt the vibrations of the approaching hoofbeats first. They resonated through the old wooden floorboards, sending tingles of alarm through her feet and legs as she realised those foreboding hooves came from more than the one horse. An entire team of horses was pounding up the driveway at speed, almost in synchronisation, which suggested a carriage.

  Instinctively, she bolted up the staircase and camouflaged herself in a dark corner on the landing and listened as the carriage rattled to a stop outside the front door. Several pairs of boots jumped and crunched on the gravel before the threatening pummelling of a fist against the oak front door sent tentacles of fear whipping throughout her body.

  ‘Open up! We know she’s in there!’ The tentacles wrapped themselves around her organs and squeezed like a vice. The Earl of Bainbridge’s sinister tone did not brook any argument. He was coming in. Nothing was going to stop him. ‘Go around the back. Check there are no other escape routes!’

  Letty heard boots crunch away at speed from the front of the house. In moments they would reach the open kitchen door and swarm into her safe haven, defiling it. If they found her, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Panic glued her feet to the floor and caused her breath to saw in and out of her lungs painfully. Where was Jack and the others? Were they on their way to rescue her? Were they oblivious to the violation? Or worse, had they already been silenced?

  The pummelling on the door began again in earnest. ‘We know you are in there, Violet! Did you think you could escape me?’

  The menacing words galvanised her. Bainbridge couldn’t succeed now, not after everything she’d been through. She had to escape. She had to think. She had to focus on the practicalities.

  Going back downstairs was suicide—however, staying up here, where there was no escape route, was almost worse. For a second she contemplated barricading herself into her bedchamber. The heavy wooden wardrobe would offer her some protection, if she could move it. But if she, a lone woman with a woman’s physical strength could move it, so too could a group of angry men. Then what?

  Blindly, she ran along the landing as the first voices appeared inside the kitchen, unsure of which way to turn. Then she saw the eyes. The bright blue eyes, identical to Jack’s, staring out at her from the portrait. Sir Hugo’s priest hole! Weeks ago, Jack had told her to hide there if the worst happened.

  Her clumsy fingers struggled to release the hidden panel, yet the men were now noisily marching their way down the hallway, kicking open doors as they passed them. Searching for her.

  Letty almost whimpered as the secret door finally swung open, but bit down hard on her tongue to stop herself. Stealth and silence were imperative. She slipped inside the tiny room beyond and forced herself to close the door slowly, even though she could already hear a pair of heavy boots on the stairs. With the door closed, she was plunged into blackness. Not so much as a crease of light bled through the ancient panelling, so she had to locate the sturdy bolt blind, with trembling fingers, and carefully, quietly, slide it until it locked.

  The footsteps reached the landing.

  ‘Pull apart every room. She could be hiding anywhere. Cupboards, under the beds, behind the curtains. You two check the attic! Leave no stone unturned.’ Layton’s cold, calculating voice issued orders rapidly. Letty could barely hear him. Her pulse was so noisy the sound of its drumming dominated the inside of her head, yet she knew her rapid breathing might betray her. Any sound she made might betray her. Carefully, she stepped cautiously backwards until she felt the hard press of brick against her ribs.

  ‘Someone was here when we arrived. There’s food cooking in the kitchen.’

  Letty did not recognise that voice, but it was coming from only a scant few feet away from where she was. On the landing. She held her breath and stared into the darkness, praying she would hear the man’s footsteps as he walked away. In the distance, the unmistakable sounds of the downstairs being ransacked, with no thought or care for the family’s possessions, piled misery on to her terror. All the Warriners had done was help her, and now, everything they owned would likely be ruined by these monsters. If she survived this, she vowed to replace every stick of furniture damaged.

  If she survived.

  ‘Violet is definitely here.’ The unmistakable sound of her uncle’s voice. So he was here, too. She supposed he would be. Too much was at stake to risk not finishing the job properly. And this time, they would finish the job. She knew that with absolute certainty. They would kill her for sure now. ‘Look.’

  ‘It’s just a handkerchief,’ Bainbridge said dismissively.

  ‘It’s an embroidered handkerchief. My niece’s work. I’d recognise it anywhere.’

  The voices became more muffled as they walked away from her, the noise of the destruction of upstairs replacing it as wardrobes were ruthlessly, mindlessly emptied. Powerless to do anything other than listen and hope, Letty carefully lowered herself to the floor of the little priest hole, wrapped her arms tightly about her knees and silently pleaded for a miracle.

  * * *

  ‘Let’s call it a day. It’s almost dark.’ Joe stood stiffly below him, stretching out his back.

  It had taken all four of them to replace the roof on the dilapidated cottage, but after two days of intensive work, largely because Jack
had needed a proper challenge to stop his mind constantly wandering to Letty, it was almost done. One more tenant cottage finished would mean another tenant and another meagre rent. ‘All right. You three head back. I will finish these last slates.’

  ‘No. It’s Letty’s last night with us and whatever nonsense is going on in that stubborn head of yours, you owe it to her to be there for dinner.’ Jamie glared up at him, his arms folded. ‘We are all going back together. Now.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Jack feigned disinterest, although his gut was already clenching. Pathetically, he wanted to hide away from the grim reality of her going in the hope it would actually stop hurting. Fat chance of that. There was a pain in his heart so acute it kept making him physically flinch. But it was for the best because he had to think of her welfare before his overwhelming feelings. Reluctantly, he climbed down from the roof and helped the others pack away the tools. Their pace back was leisurely, in deference to Jamie’s sedate speed, and he was grateful for that at least. In a few hours, he would watch her climb his stairs for the last time. This time tomorrow, they would set off to London. Less than two days after that, they would say goodbye.

  The silhouette of Markham Manor loomed darkly in the twilight. It was odd that he should be thinking negative words like loomed again already, when for the last few weeks, the sight of his home had warmed him. It had warmed him, Jack recognised, because Letty had made it into a home rather than a responsibility. With her inside waiting for him, it no longer felt like a millstone around his neck, but more a place of light and hope. His feelings for the house would soon become as dark as the windows once more...

  Something was not right.

  Since Letty had taken charge of the house, those windows always glowed a golden welcome and tonight they were black. He began to run.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘There are no candles burning. We left the gates unguarded.’ Jack had left Letty unguarded.

  The closer he got to the house, the more the cold despair of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. They had been gone for hours. Letty could have been gone for hours.

  Jack smashed through the back door and saw the carnage. The kitchen table was lying on its side, chairs scattered this way and that. All his worst fears were confirmed. They had come for her and he had not been here to stop them.

  Behind him, he heard someone strike a match and the dim light highlighted that the wanton destruction went way beyond this room. Jacob thrust a lantern into his hand.

  ‘Letty’s a smart girl, Jack.’

  She was. No matter what life threw at her, she always proved herself to be resourceful. She could have escaped. Or she could have hidden. ‘Search everywhere.’ Jack plunged into the chaos of the hallway and took the stairs two at time, heading to the one place he had told her to go.

  ‘Letty!’

  The he stopped in front of the secret panel. ‘Letty, sweetheart, it’s me. Jack.’ The deafening silence caused his throat to constrict, strangling his words. His fingers fumbled at the concealed latch and his heart only began to beat again when he realised it was locked. From the inside. Thank God!

  ‘Letty, sweetheart.’ He lowered his voice, trying to sound calm even though he had never felt so far from it. ‘Unlock the door, darling. They’ve gone.’ At least he hoped they had. In his haste to find her he hadn’t checked.

  Joe poked his head round the banister. ‘There’s no sign of them—not in the house at any rate. I’ve come to get Jamie’s guns. We’re going to check outside.’

  He nodded, too petrified for Letty’s safety to do any more. ‘Did you hear that, sweetheart? There’s no sign of them. Please. Talk to me.’ Please be in there. Unharmed.

  ‘J-Jack?’ Her voice was so small, barely a whisper, but his heart soared at the sound.

  ‘Yes, sweetheart. It’s me. Unlock the door.’ He needed to see for himself all was well. Touch her. Hold her.

  ‘Are they really gone?’

  ‘There is nobody here except me and you.’

  He pressed his ear to the wood and heard movement. After an age, and a great deal of fumbling, she slid the bolt open. Jack yanked open the panel and watched her wince and cover her eyes against the weak light from the lantern as she knelt on the floor in front of him. She had been in the dark in there. All alone. Terrified. He could tell by the tiny quiver of her shoulders she was on the cusp of tears.

  Automatically he dropped to the floor, crawling into the tiny space and gathering her against his chest tightly, tucking her head under his chin, needing to comfort both of them with the embrace. She burrowed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he noticed her fingers were chilled, too. Jack pulled the edges of his greatcoat around her, rocking her as he tried to warm her skin, grateful at the reassuring, rapid beat of her heart against his.

  ‘I thought they had taken you!’ He ignored the crack of emotion in his voice; for once his manly pride could go to hell. She was safe. That was all that mattered. ‘Are you injured? Did they touch you?’ Because if they had, then they would have to die. It was as simple as that.

  She shook her head against his shoulder. ‘Th-they never f-found me. I came here as soon as I heard them. Oh, J-Jack, I could hear them pulling apart all the rooms. I thought they would never stop. Your poor house.’

  ‘It’s just a house, Letty. Things. None of them are important.’ He kissed the top of her blonde curls reverently. The only thing of any importance was safe in his arms.

  ‘I was so frightened. I thought they had hurt you.’ An anguished sob escaped her lips. ‘Are all your brothers safe, too?’

  ‘Shh, sweetheart...everyone is all right.’

  ‘I’ve put you all in such danger—I never should have stayed here. I’m so s-sorry, Jack.’

  ‘This is my fault, Letty. If anybody should be sorry it is me. I left the gates open. I became complacent, so sure they were gone, I left you unguarded. If something had happened to you...’ Emotion clogged his throat, preventing him from finishing the sentence, but Jack would have not been able to live with himself.

  ‘You’re here now. That’s all I care about. You’re here and safe.’ Her slim body shook as the tears she had been bravely holding back came unabated. Jack didn’t try to make her stop. After the ordeal she had just been through, she deserved the release and he needed the closeness. All he could do was hold her tight, smooth his hands over her hair and thank God she had had the wherewithal to seek the shelter of this ancient refuge, grateful it had finally hidden someone worthy.

  How long they sat there like that, curled together on the floor, he had no idea, but it was long enough for his brothers search the estate and return to find them still there. Jamie wore a grim expression.

  ‘We can’t find them in the grounds. That doesn’t mean they are not in them. It’s just too damn dark to search properly. But the gates are secured and so is the house. Joe’s guarding the front door and Jacob the back. If anyone tries to come in, both boys know to shoot first, ask questions later.’

  ‘They know I’ve been here. My uncle found my embroidery and recognised it. They’ll come back.’

  A sobering thought. Jack exchanged a meaningful glance with his brother to silently gauge his opinion; the gloomy certainty he saw in Jamie’s eyes terrified him. ‘They won’t be far away. Someone will be watching the house. More men will be guarding the lane. They will have seen us searching for them—but they are waiting now. To see what happens next.’

  Jack felt Letty stiffen in his arms and pulled her closer. ‘We won’t let them near you, Letty.’ This place was a fortress, perhaps they could hold Bainbridge and his men at bay. But even if they could, it was only a short-term solution. ‘We need to get her out of here.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Jamie nodded, his jaw firm and his shoulders set for battle. ‘I have a plan.’

&
nbsp; Chapter Nineteen

  Four tense days and twenty-three hours to go...

  Just after midnight, Joe and Jacob set off to check the grounds. The light of their lanterns and the movement near the gates were designed to draw attention away from the three cloaked figures heading towards the barn. Jamie pushed bales of hay in front of the doors in case thin slivers of light from their single candle bled out into the darkness. Silently, Jack saddled two horses while Letty pushed their hastily procured provisions into saddle bags. Just before they extinguished the candle, Jamie pressed a pistol into her hand. The feel of something so deadly in her palm should have been frightening, but its cold weight was reassuring.

  ‘Remember what I told you. Pull back the hammer, aim it at the head and squeeze the trigger.’ She nodded her affirmation and put it into the belt tied around her waist. Jamie turned gravely back to his brother. ‘Wait here till you see the light of my lantern. Once we are sure they’ve gone, we’ll follow. Take care, Big Brother.’

  With that he blew out the weak candle, pushed away the hay bales and limped back towards the courtyard. She and Jack waited in tense silence, holding their respective horses by the reins. Not more than two minutes later they saw the glow of Jamie’s lantern at the back door of the house. It moved slowly away from both his other brothers and from where they stood. Another decoy to fool whoever happened to be watching that the Warriners were either searching for Letty or for potential intruders.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Jack whispered and led the way behind the barn, towards the dark, forbidding woods. Letty had to trust he would be able to find his way out of them and take them safely, directly to the Great North Road almost four miles away.

  They walked the horses until the blanket of trees surrounded them. She let him boost her on to her mount, then waited while he hoisted himself into the saddle. ‘Once we get to the river, we have to veer south, keeping the water to our right. That way we will bypass Retford altogether. The stretch of the London-bound road we should meet is fairly isolated. It should be easy to spot from the cover of trees if anyone is there waiting for us. If they are, we will simply remain hidden.’