by June Francis
‘No. She has gone away for a few days to stay with her sister. I am Lady Appleby, the mother of Master Fustian. What is it you want?’
Immediately Alex adopted a grave look. ‘In any other circumstances I would have been delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Appleby. As I said, I am newly come from Richmond.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean in any other circumstances? What news do you have of my sons? Hasn’t the King granted Edward his wish? Is he not to be Lord Mayor of London?’
‘It is doubtful. Perhaps I may be permitted to come inside to give you my news. You might wish to sit down.’
Lady Appleby looked thoroughly alarmed and seized his sleeve. ‘No. Say what you have to say now! Has someone else gained the King’s favour?’
Alex brushed her hand from his sleeve. ‘Your son is dead.’
The colour drained from Monica Appleby’s face and a keening cry left her lips. Then she grabbed his arm and demanded, ‘Which son?’
‘Your younger son, William.’
Her relief was apparent. ‘Why did you not say so first, upsetting me the way you did? What of my son Edward? Is he safe? Why has he not brought me news concerning William’s death?’
‘Did I hear someone say that William is dead?’ asked a voice that held a Scottish lilt.
Alex looked beyond Lady Appleby to the young woman a few feet behind her. ‘Aye, mistress. Master William Fustian is dead.’
‘You are certain of this?’ she demanded.
‘Aye.’ He estimated her to be sixteen or seventeen summers. She wore a plain brown gown and wisps of auburn hair had escaped her headdress and curled about her heart-shaped face. ‘I saw him die, myself. There can be no mistake.’
‘This obviously means that the wedding will not take place,’ she said, beaming at him.
‘Be quiet, Bridget! Have you no sense of what is fitting?’ said Lady Appleby in a cold voice. ‘Return to your bedchamber immediately.’
Bridget made no move to do as she was told, but instead said, ‘Who are you, sir, so that I know whom to thank for this news?’
‘I am Baron Dalsland,’ he replied, amazed by her self-possession.
Lady Appleby started back. ‘Get in, girl! Go fetch your uncle.’
‘I would rather not,’ said Bridget.
Lady Appleby brought up her hand and smacked the girl’s face. Alex moved swiftly and seized her wrist. ‘Do not do that again,’ he warned.
‘What’s going on?’ demanded a man’s voice in a thick Scottish accent.
Immediately, Bridget ducked beneath Alex’s arm and made her escape.
‘Now see what you have done,’ cried Lady Appleby. ‘Unhand me at once, you swine!’
‘You heard the lady,’ growled the Scotsman, advancing on Alex.
Alex shoved Lady Appleby towards the man, whom he presumed to be her McDonald lover, and turned swiftly on his heel and went after the girl.
He caught a brief glimpse of Walther’s surprised face and then it vanished in the mist. He ran on and became aware of the sound of thudding feet to his rear and presumed that McDonald was giving chase. Alex put on a spurt and soon the sounds of pursuit receded into the distance, but in that short time he had lost sight of Bridget McDonald. He came to a sudden halt in front of St Paul’s Cathedral.
Could she have gone inside? He did not hesitate, but plunged into its interior, only to find that a mass was taking place and he had no choice but to adopt an attitude of worship whilst out of the corner of his eye, he tried to search the congregation for Bridget. But with so many heads bent in prayer he had an almost impossible task. He could only wait until the service ended and then he hurried to the entrance in the hope of finding the girl on her way out.
Alex stood there, watching all those that left the cathedral, but he could not see her. His expression was grim as he accepted that his reunion with Rosamund would be blighted by the news that he had been within an arm’s length of Bridget McDonald, only to lose her.
Chapter Sixteen
‘If all had gone well, then surely he should have been here by now,’ said Rosamund, trying to remain calm as she planted another stitch in a tear in the hem of her blue gown. She could not bear to lose Alex now when there was a real chance of happiness ahead for them.
Lady Elizabeth said, ‘The Baron is no fool. He is not going to walk into a trap. You heard what Joshua said about them arriving in London later than hoped. No doubt the Baron will walk through that door any moment now.’
The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the door opened and Alex entered the parlour. Rosamund’s heart leapt in her breast and her relief was so intense that she felt dizzy.
He said without preamble, ‘I have bad news. In my haste I lost her and now have no notion of her whereabouts.’ He removed his hat and ran a hand through his tawny mane of hair and then went over to the fire and stood gazing into its flames.
‘We are talking about Bridget McDonald?’ asked Rosamund.
He lifted his head and stared at Rosamund. ‘Who else would I mean?’
‘No one else,’ she said hastily, banishing the unworthy and foolish thought about Ingrid.
He sensed she was not being completely honest with him. ‘If you were thinking about your stepmother, then she is still at Fustian’s house with McDonald.’
‘What happened?’ asked Lady Elizabeth.
He told them and both looked relieved. ‘At least Bridget McDonald is alive and no longer their prisoner,’ said Rosamund, touching Alex’s arm. ‘You must not blame yourself for what happened. You could not have foreseen her escaping the way she did—also, the weather was against you.’
He smiled wryly. ‘That is true, but it might not be easy to find her again.’
‘She definitely seems a resourceful girl,’ said Rosamund.
‘We can organise a search,’ said Lady Elizabeth, her eyes brightening. ‘Sooner or later the mist will lift and, with the help of my men and your friend Walther and your other accomplices, we will find her.’
Alex warned, ‘We are not going to be the only ones searching for her, so we must act swiftly.’
‘Do you not think it possible that my stepmother and McDonald will decide to cut their losses and leave the city?’ asked Rosamund, presuming he referred to them. ‘The news of William’s death must have given them some indication that Edward’s plans have gone awry.’
‘Aye, but it’s possible they may linger, hoping for word from him,’ said Alex.
‘You will never guess what happened after you left,’ said Lady Elizabeth, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Alex contained his impatience. ‘Tell me,’ he said politely.
‘Sir Andrew Kennedy and that impudent madam you questioned both vanished from the palace.’
Alex’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What do you mean—vanished?’
Rosamund bent her head and toyed with the amber-and-silver ring on her finger. ‘Someone released Ingrid and, although a search was made, just like Edward, she was not found.’
He stared down at her bent head and wondered if she had allowed herself to doubt him and, despite his words to the contrary, still believed that Ingrid had some power over him. Soon he was going to have to convince his wife without a measure of a doubt that she meant much more to him than Ingrid had ever done.
‘Of course! Rumours were flying around that she was a witch and they had flown over the walls on a broomstick,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘I, myself, firmly believe that Sir Andrew and this—this so-called witch will ride for the Scottish border.’
‘Whereas I was convinced she would come to London,’ said Rosamund, glancing up at him.
‘Why?’ asked Alex bluntly. ‘Do you not deem it possible that Edward could have freed her and set out north for Appleby Manor and from there head for the border?’
‘Aye, that could be a possibility,’ said Rosamund, ‘but I cannot accept it. I do not believe Edward would abandon his mother. There is a bond between them that I now conside
r quite unhealthy.’
‘Rosamund thinks that Lord Bude could have freed Ingrid,’ said Lady Elizabeth breathlessly.
Alex slanted a smile at Rosamund. ‘Now that is a more likely scenario for me. But let us not be distracted from our purpose—finding Harry, and Bridget McDonald is our key to doing so.’
‘You do not deem she might return to Fustian’s house?’ asked Lady Elizabeth.
‘I greatly doubt it, despite her having no cloak or gloves to keep her warm in this freezing fog,’ said Alex. ‘But if she were to attempt to sneak into the house by a back door, then she will be seen. A watch is being kept in case Lady Appleby and McDonald consider making a run for it.’ He looked at Rosamund. ‘I was repelled by the way she accepted the news of her younger son’s death. It was as if it only mattered to her that Edward lived, so no doubt you are right in your estimation that he will come to London.’
Lady Elizabeth leaned forward and hugged her knees. ‘You are presuming that he has not been captured. My kinsman, Derby, is bound to send word to me in the next day or two—that is, if he does not come himself. I will inform him of what you say.’
Alex nodded. ‘I must change my garments and I need some refreshments before I go out again.’ He left the parlour without a backward glance.
Rosamund wished he had asked her to go upstairs with him. They could have talked in private, but he obviously believed he had no time to waste and considered that she had no part to play in the search for Bridget McDonald. It was possible that he was correct in his presumption, but she resented being expected to just meekly stay in the background with her godmother.
Rosamund stood up. ‘Will I ask a servant to bring food and wine here for the Baron?’
‘Certainly, my dear. Then we must discuss what is to be done when this young woman is found. It is possible that she will be reluctant to divulge to us the whereabouts of your brother if her own father—who is a McDonald, don’t forget—and treasure are involved.’
As Rosamund arranged for refreshments for Alex, she considered her godmother’s words. She could see the sense in her reasoning, but deemed there was little point in discussing it before Bridget was found. She would rather be involved in the search.
‘I wonder what she was wearing when she escaped and whether she had any coin with her,’ said Rosamund, picking up her sewing again.
‘Ask the Baron,’ said her godmother.
‘I will,’ she murmured.
Alex did not waste much time in eating and drinking, and talked not at all but to answer Rosamund’s question concerning Bridget McDonald.
‘She wore only a brown homespun gown and a plain headdress. I doubt that she would have any coin with her. Can you see your stepmother and the uncle providing her with money?’
Rosamund could not, but if Bridget was as resourceful as she estimated, then it was possible she might have had the wits to obtain pennies from somewhere and sown them into the hem of a gown. Surely she would have given some thought to escaping during her captivity?
When Alex took his leave of Rosamund, he warned her against going beyond the perimeter walls of her godmother’s mansion. ‘If your stepbrother does reach London, then he will be determined to have his revenge on us. I hope to return before nightfall,’ he added, ‘but if it so happens that I deem it necessary to follow McDonald and Lady Appleby, then I will do so. If they can lead us to your stepbrother, all the better. This might mean my being absent for a day or more.’
‘You will take care,’ she said, unable to conceal her concern.
His face softened and he touched her cheek with a gentle hand. ‘Trust me, Rosamund. I do care about our future.’
She felt tears prick the back of her eyes and nodded wordlessly before pressing her lips against his palm. He kissed her and then, with a nod in Lady Elizabeth’s direction, hurried from the parlour.
Rosamund spent a few moments composing herself before facing her godmother again. ‘I have been thinking that instead of worrying about what to do once Bridget McDonald is your guest, perhaps we should play our part in trying to solve the puzzling question of where she could be hiding.’
‘Certainly,’ wheezed Lady Elizabeth. ‘We have a young woman of some sixteen summers with no cloak or gloves to keep her warm.’
‘She might have a little money.’ Rosamund divulged her thoughts about coin to Lady Elizabeth. ‘We do not know if she has any friends in the city. It is possible that Edward’s wife, Marion, would have befriended her as she was staying in her house, but we know from what the Baron told us that Marion has taken her daughters to stay with her sister.’
‘Are we to presume that the girl arrived in London on horseback or by ship?’ asked Lady Elizabeth.
‘Horseback, if she travelled here from Appleby Manor.’ Rosamund paused to consider her poor, misled but unpleasant younger stepbrother, who had been intended for Bridget’s husband and prayed God would have mercy on his soul. On a more cheerful note, she thought that at least when Harry did return to reclaim his inheritance he would not have William to contend with and he would certainly appreciate it if their stepmother and Edward were also out of contention. She felt an old familiar chill thinking of them, but then thought of Alex and determinedly did not give way to that paralysing fear of them.
‘Is her father not a pirate?’ asked Lady Elizabeth.
Rosamund nodded. ‘Although, perhaps it is best if we do not use that term when speaking to Mistress McDonald about him, but it does mean that he must have a ship.’
‘Would he risk sailing into London?’
‘That we cannot know, but it is possible that father and daughter would have means of getting in touch with each other if it was needful.’
‘I am convinced, Rosamund, that would be difficult. Ships can be blown off course and end up God only knows where,’ said Lady Elizabeth.
‘Aye, that is true. But if I were Bridget McDonald, I might be tempted to haunt the quaysides and taverns were mariners abound and make enquiries concerning my father’s ship.’
Lady Elizabeth shook her head. ‘It would not be seemly for a young woman of her age to do so and it would also be dangerous. No, Rosamund, if she is a young woman of sense, then she will seek aid from those who have her well-being at heart.’
Immediately, Rosamund felt deflated. Who could Bridget McDonald turn to if she had no friends in London? Again she considered what she would do if she was in the Scottish girl’s shoes and came up with an answer—one that she decided to keep to herself.
To her relief, Alex did return to the house several hours later. Over supper he informed them that a man had arrived on horseback and entered Fustian’s house. He had remained inside and after a short while a wagon had drawn up at the front door and several items had been loaded onto it, including a large trunk. It had departed, taking with it the first man, whom Alex and Walther had presumed to be a messenger. A couple of men had been despatched to follow the wagon whilst Alex remained on watch so that Walther could slip home and have a meal and rest. He had returned to relieve Alex, so he could get some sleep after what had been an extremely long day.
Rosamund had planned to talk to her husband about some of her thoughts concerning Bridget McDonald once they had retired to their bedchamber. As it was, her hopes were not realised; no sooner had Alex’s head touched the pillow than he fell into a deep sleep. She spent a restless night, only to drop off just before dawn.
When eventually she awoke, it was to find that she was alone in the bed. She performed her toilette swiftly, dressed and hurried downstairs, only to discover that Alex had already left the house.
Frustrated by his lack of communication, she was tempted to follow him, but she remembered what happened last time she had gone out alone behind the perimeter walls and changed her mind. As it was, that proved to be the sensible course; no sooner had Rosamund and Lady Elizabeth finished breakfast than they had a visitor in the elderly person of the Earl of Derby.
Her ladyship welcomed him warmly a
nd Rosamund would have excused herself if he had not waved her to a chair. ‘Sit down, my dear. I hope you are both well and recovered from the attack on your persons?’
‘Indeed, we have, Thomas,’ answered Lady Elizabeth. ‘What news do you have from Richmond? Have you caught those villains yet?’
He grimaced. ‘I am not here to talk of them, Beth, I bring other tidings. But I will tell you, while I remember, that Kennedy’s reason for leaving so precipitously was due to news that his son is dangerously ill and his wife requested his presence at the bedside,’ he said drily. ‘As for the Fustian fellow, there has been no sighting of him, but his barge was seen being rowed away yesterday just after noon. It was out of sight before anyone thought to report the incident.’
‘Now that is interesting,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘Have you discovered yet if it has tied up here in London?’
‘The matter is being looked into, but I expect naught to come of it. The Fustian fellow is not going to hang around waiting to be arrested.’
‘Well, I can tell you, Thomas, that the Baron has not been slow in visiting Fustian’s home and is having a watch kept on the building,’ said Lady Elizabeth, ‘but so far he has not shown up.’
Derby nodded sagely. ‘I tell you, ladies, that the Baron is wasting his time. Fustian will be heading for the border. I must be on my way.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Oh, the other news I had for you. It is the Queen. She is at her apartments in the Tower for her confinement. We are all praying that she will be safely delivered of a son.’
‘I, too, will pray for her,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘I suppose this means that the celebrations have come to an end and your Scottish visitors are preparing to depart for their northern lands?’
‘Aye. But Margaret will not be accompanying them. She awaits news of her mother and the child.’
Lady Elizabeth looked relieved and went with him to the front door, leaving Rosamund sitting by the fire. She wondered what Alex would say when he heard the latest tidings from Richmond.
