‘How was this information against me received?’
‘Your servant was waylaid by a gentleman who recognised him. The gentleman was accompanied by a party of government officials who were in the area to search out information about others who may have been involved in the conspiracy. Your servant was on his way to Dunedin Hall to visit Sir Henry Carberry on your behalf—a gentleman who is a well-known recusant in Warwickshire. His eldest son is a Jesuit priest, and it is not known whether he is abroad or in hiding somewhere. Sir Henry is also known to have sold horses to Catesby to aid the cause.’
Sir Arthur’s mention of Sir Henry took on a new edge. ‘That is correct. Has Sir Henry been arrested?’
‘No. He escaped—fled the country, I believe.’
‘And his daughter?’
‘She is residing at Carberry Hall with Lord Carberry and her cousin.’
Sir Arthur had no idea of the relief that flooded Kit’s whole being. Not a muscle in his darkly handsome face gave any indication of this. He looked so cold, dispassionate and in complete control that Sir Arthur could not fail to admire him.
‘Why do you ask about Sir Henry?’
‘Personal concern for a friend. Nothing more. You may not be aware of the fact, Sir Arthur, but his niece and I are betrothed. Whether or not she becomes my wife, or I suffer the fate of traitors, remains to be seen,’ Kit said drily. ‘Do you mind telling me the name of the gentleman who recognised my servant?’
‘It was Sir Thomas Blackwell of Ashcombe Manor.’
Sharp talons of dread raked Kit’s heart, and the muscles of his jaw were taut with a barely controlled rage on hearing this name. ‘Blackwell,’ he growled. “That explains your presence here in my home.’
‘You know the gentleman?’
Kit nodded. ‘The man is a blackguard and of unrestrained, ruthless ambition.’
‘I’m not acquainted with Sir Thomas, but I have heard disparaging remarks about him. Wasn’t it you who complained about his disgraceful conduct in the Low Countries, which resulted in his regiment being recalled?’
‘It was. Our paths have crossed frequently in the past in extremely unpleasant circumstances. It would seem I have just become a victim of his malice. No doubt it will amuse him to see me cast into the Tower and charged with treason.’
‘Are you saying that Sir Thomas is lying—that you did not associate with Catesby and his associates?’
‘No. In part the information is false—certainly intended to be misleading.’
‘In part? Then you don’t deny it entirely?’
‘Why should I deny it? I have nothing to hide. I confess to having dined on occasion with Catesby and his friends, but that does not make me guilty of collusion. Others were also present who had no part in the conspiracy. Certain branches of my family are Catholic—and there are liberal helpings of Catholic blood in your own, Sir Arthur,’ he said pointedly, for the Throckmorton family was one of the most prominent Catholic families in England, ‘but that does not make me a Catholic.’
‘If what you say is true, I sincerely hope you establish your innocence.’
Kit grinned wryly. ‘So do I, Sir Arthur.’
Still reeling from her separation from her father, news of Lord Brodie’s arrest hit Serena hard. The accusations of conspiracy against him were based on Thomas Blackwell’s testimony, reinforced by a good deal of evidence. But unbeknown to Serena his captivity was short-lived.
Aware of the gruesome fate awaiting him at the Tower, from the moment Kit left Thurlow he was determined to escape rather than enter the gates of that formidable fortress. His opportunity came late one night—he loosened the bonds that held him when his guards thought he was asleep. With all the stealth of a shadow he slipped away. Fleet of foot, he travelled south-west, hoping to find Ludovick at his home at Chelsea.
It came as no surprise to Serena that Lord Brodie’s betrothal to Dorothea was blighted by the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot and his assumed involvement. Not long after his arrest and with undue haste, Lord Carberry, believing he had just cause to cancel his daughter’s betrothal to a traitor, joined her in what he considered to be a more successful union to Sir Thomas Blackwell.
Serena was appalled that Dorothea had no objections to the match and would listen to no wrong said about him. The possibility that her cousin might fancy herself in love with the beast that almost ravished her had never occurred to Serena. She had known Dorothea all her life, yet she was beginning to realise that she did not know the inner workings of her mind at all. Nothing she could say would make her cousin change her mind or her opinion of Thomas Blackwell; as for herself, she would never be reconciled to such an unsuitable match, and she hoped he would not give her cousin cause to rue the day she married him.
And so, unable to come to terms with Dorothea’s determination to wed Sir Thomas, and feeling that she could not bear to come face to face with the aforesaid gentleman ever again—which she would have to do if she remained at Carberry Hall—Serena decided to leave England and seek out her father in Flanders.
She slipped out of the house when everyone had retired for the night, leaving her uncle and Dorothea a note telling them of her intentions, convinced that by the time they woke and read the letter she would be well on her way to the south coast. Her uncle’s fury would be fearsome when he discovered what she had done.
Quickly she saddled her beloved Polly. It would sadden her when she had to part with her, but she would sell her for a good price and find her a suitable stable before embarking on her journey across the Channel. Driven by a compelling need to see her home one more time, she headed in the direction of Dunedin Hall. She would also obtain possession of a few things to take with her and make use of some of James’s clothes. Dressed in the guise of a man, she would be less conspicuous; it would make her journey less difficult being unencumbered by skirts,
Eventually the ghostly shape of Dunedin Hall came into view. Stealthily Serena let herself into the deserted house. An eerie quiet hung over the place, but she had a keen sense that something was wrong. Lighting two candles that she found on a large chest, she looked around her, appalled and pained by the sight that met her eyes. In her absence the house had been ransacked and looted, although there had been few articles of any great value left. Dunedin Hall had held many treasures, and it was fortunate that her father had hastily arranged to have them removed to Carberry Hall with his brother’s grudging approval before he left.
Despite their differences, Lord Carberry believed in the old adage that blood is thicker than water and had no desire to see his brother meet a traitor’s death. With his love of wealth and the finer things in life, and knowing that all Henry’s property and possessions would become forfeit to the Crown, he had agreed to take anything of great value and would store it until such a time—God willing and the king’s pardon—as when Henry could return to England.
The searchers had shown no respect. Floors had been ripped up and panels removed from the walls in an attempt to uncover any concealed priest holes, of which there were several at Dunedin Hall. As she looked around her at the utter devastation, Serena’s only feeling was anger that strangers had entered, violated and defiled this house that was sacred to her, sacred because it had been her home where her family had lived and loved.
Concentrating her mind on her task, she knew speed was essential. Slipping out of her dress, she put on instead hose and breeches she found among a heap of clothes on the floor that belonged to James. He was younger than she, but a tall youth for all that. Putting on a shirt and dark blue doublet and a stout pair of her brother’s boots, she then twisted her hair into a knot at the back of her head and placed a wide-brimmed hat on top.
Pushing the dress she had taken off into a bag with one other, some undergarments, shoes and other small items that she would need for the long journey ahead of her, she then collected a few jewels of small value which would be of use to her from her own chamber. They were hidden in a secret drawer in a large chest, which had be
en overlooked when her father had been arranging his escape.
Clutching the bag, she went quickly down the stairscase, a slight shadow moving stealthily against the wall illuminated by the lone candle she held. Dunedin Hall had become a house of memories. A house of ghosts. Serena was struck by the almost brooding silence, an ominous silence that was like a large crouching beast holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Before she reached the bottom step she paused, certain she had heard a sound. On hearing the ponderous approach of footsteps ringing sharply on the stone flags, her heart began to pound. Her eyes were large as she peered and tried to penetrate the gloom, becoming fixed when she saw a dim arc of light down a passageway growing larger and brighter. She had to stifle a cry when a large black figure emerged carrying a lantern, menacing and unreal, almost stripping away her façade of courage as it advanced towards her like a terrifying beast.
Serena fell back, her eyes dilated, all the colour draining from her face as the figure stepped into the light and she realised that misfortune had placed her once more into the hands of Thomas Blackwell. As he set the lantern down on a large chest, its yellow light threw his gigantic shadow against the wall. Clutching a trembling hand to her throat, Serena recalled his violence on their last confrontation. Shaken by the memory, she feared that it was about to be repeated. But this time she was alone and completely at his mercy. There would be no marquess of Thurlow to save her from Thomas Blackwell’s brutal hands this time.
Moving down the remaining stairs, she mastered her fear sufficiently to say coldly, ‘I might have expected to find you here. Are you responsible for what has happened to my home?’
‘I saw a light and came to investigate. The Sheriff had the authority to question the servants and search the house for your father and any other undesirables who may be in hiding here. It’s well known that these spacious Catholic houses are honeycombed with passages and riddled with secret holes for priests and fugitives to hide in. Having found such places, it is clear that Dunedin Hall is no different.’
‘Then the Sheriff has done his job well,’ Serena said scathingly, ‘considering the disorder of things and my family’s belongings which have been transported away. No doubt the Sheriff will make a considerable profit out of it all.’
‘Your father has been declared a traitor. In such cases all properties of the accused become forfeit.’
‘Ha!’ Serena scoffed. ‘Accused! The charge against him has not yet been proven.’
‘It will be. Where is he?’
‘Somewhere in Flanders. You will not find him here.’
Thomas moved closer, his gaze becoming salacious when they rested on her lips and heaving angry bosom. ‘Then perhaps you can explain your own reason for being here. I know you are presently living at Carberry Hall.’
Sir Thomas’s leering gaze stripped Serena’s blood to ice, and she saw what she had not seen when she had believed herself smitten—the lines of dissipation around his mouth and a chilling arrogance in his eyes.
‘This is my home and I can come and go as I please.’
‘It is almost midnight and I find your behaviour suspicious.’ Thomas’s narrowed eyes travelled the length of her. ‘Very fetching,’ he murmured, taking in every detail of her attire, his hooded eyes heavy with desire. ‘Are you going somewhere? Did you think to escape me? Did you think I had forgotten how you thwarted me the last time we met?’
In unwavering response Serena met his gaze directly, her glare conveying her absolute contempt. ‘If you touch me I shall scream.’
‘Such spirit, such defiance—I like that,’ he drawled. ‘Go ahead and scream. No one will hear you. You went too far when you tried to make a fool of me, Serena. You touched my honour and now I think I have a duty to punish you—to take what you so fiercely denied me the last time.’
The full horror of what was about to happen to her crushed down on Serena with appalling gravity and brought all her paralysed senses to life. ‘You blackguard,’ she spat. ‘Have you no concept of honour? Lay one finger on me and I swear I shall make you pay for any offence you commit against me.’
An abrasive laugh came from her assailant. ‘So, you think you can tease and entice and then dance away to delight yourself with Kit Brodie, do you? Nay…’ he laughed ‘…I’ll not have it. I have you now and there is no escape. You will get what you deserve and not forget me in a hurry.’
‘And after you have defiled my person—when my uncle hears of this—do you think he will still consider you suitable to marry Dorothea? He’ll give you the whipping you deserve more like.’
Thomas’s eyes skimmed over Serena with a mixture of angry insolence and hungry fervour. ‘He won’t, because if you know what’s good for you you’ll silence your tongue. I’ll deny everything and accuse you of leading me on, convincing everyone that what you accuse me of is merely a malicious invention on your part, because of your jealousy that I am to wed Dorothea instead of you.’ He moved closer, his breathing becoming laboured as his excitement mounted. ‘I intend to make you suffer—to hear you scream—to make you go down on your knees and listen to you beg for mercy—you treacherous, papist bitch.’
And then his iron-thewed arms were around her. He held her fast, his assault conjuring up memories, and Serena remembered the force, the power of this man. Her hat came off and her hair tumbled loose about her shoulders, hampering her as she struggled frantically. Thomas’s hands mauled her body mercilessly, and when he lowered his head to clamp his mouth on hers she almost retched, flinging her head from side to side in an attempt to avoid his violation, humiliated and angry that she was having to suffer this torment yet again.
‘Stop fighting, damn you—you witch,’ Thomas growled as she managed to drag herself away from him, desperate to put an end to the nightmare.
‘You beast—you lecherous oaf,’ she spat, outraged, lashing out at him in fury, but he caught her wrist cruelly and twisted her arm, forcing her to her knees.
‘That—’ a voice rang out from across the hall ‘—is quite enough, Blackwell. Release Mistress Carberry.’
Thomas turned and found himself looking into the muzzle of the marquess of Thurlow’s pistol. At first he stared at him in disbelief, but then his expression became one of fury. ‘You!’ he hissed.
‘I am no apparition, Blackwell. If you touch her again I’ll kill you,’ Kit said, making his presence felt, his voice cold and lethal and his eyes as penetrating as dagger thrusts. ‘Do you understand me?’
Glancing uncertainly towards the vision that had suddenly appeared, Serena beheld a face that made her tremble and a gasp rise in her throat. For a split second she thought she was imagining things, that her vision was distorted, that the marquess of Thurlow could not possibly have stepped in to rescue her from Thomas Blackwell’s brutal hands a second time. She blinked, but her vision did not clear, and she saw it was indeed Lord Brodie, just as tall, just as handsome as she remembered, his face as hard as a granite sculpture as he glared at his adversary.
His presence stirred memories of a cosy room at Carberry Hall late one night, and Serena’s heart pounded with an overwhelming intensity. Ever since their first meeting he had kept intruding into her thoughts when her desire was to keep him out, and now she was unable to suppress the surge of jubilation that raced through her. But how did he come to be here when he should be languishing in the Tower?
As he was consumed with rage, a red haze formed in front of Thomas’s eyes. He reached out and tried to deliver Kit a punch, but to his astonishment he found his arm seized by Kit’s free hand with a strength that exceeded his own. The pistol in Kit’s other hand struck him hard in the belly, then his free hand slammed against Thomas’s jaw and bowled him over on to the floor where he lay bellowing like a gored animal. Gasping for air, he struggled to his feet, leaning against the balustrade for support. His hand went to his hip where he wore his sword, but Kit saw the gesture and prevented him from drawing it by raising his pistol.
‘I’ll get you for this, Brodie,’ Thomas rasped with difficulty, his eyes freezing with a piercing darkness promising repercussions. ‘I’ll see you both in hell before I’m finished with you.’
Kit’s eyes took on a steely hardness as he moved closer, still brandishing his pistol. ‘What’s the matter?’ he taunted with an infuriating grin, placing the cold muzzle beneath Blackwell’s chin and watching with heightened interest as perspiration broke out on his brow. A soft chuckle of derision went rippling around the hall. ‘Did you think I was a prisoner in the Tower, where I would be made to suffer every indignity and every conceivable torture known to man? Did you hope that I would soon be dangling on the end of a rope with my insides ripped out?’
Kit’s mood changed suddenly. There was a tensing of the muscles in his lean jaw and a feral gleam in his eyes. ‘You have much to answer for, Blackwell. I know you were responsible for the arrest of my servant, and I realise how disappointed you must be to discover I have escaped the not-so-watchful eye of my gaolers after all your efforts to discredit me.’
‘Aye, I admit it. I thought I had gotten rid of you, but I never thought you’d have the audacity to show up here.’
Kit smiled wryly. ‘I have come to serve vengeance of my own on someone who was not content to settle his account with me in person. Unlike you, Blackwell, I would rather face my enemy than have him at my back. Is there no end to your wickedness? You still ply your skills with ruthless ease against women, I see. Are you so smitten with Mistress Carberry that you must take her by force?’
Thomas sneered. ‘To hell with you, Brodie. Why didn’t you seek the hospitality at Carberry Hall?’
‘I knew what kind of reception I would receive. Through your doing I have been accused of treason against the Crown, so I could hardly expect Lord Carberry to welcome me now, could I? I’ve been watching you all day, Blackwell. I followed you here—and it’s as well I did,’ he said, switching his attention to Serena.
Seeing the strain of her ordeal showing on her face, Kit moved towards her. Reaching down, he took her hand, feeling it tremble as he drew her to her feet. He watched as the flickering light from the nearby candles illuminated her features, which were etched with pure clarity on his consciousness. She looked pale and stricken and heartbreakingly beautiful. His heart wrenched. ‘Are you all right?’
Conspiracy of Hearts Page 10
