A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  When they entered the house, Stephan Cornwall and his wife greeted the new arrivals effusively. “Albert, Francine, how delightful that you reconsidered my suggestion”

  “Lord Cornwall, Lady Angela, my associate, Sir Malcom Crane.”

  Sean bowed to Cornwall, then took Angela’s proffered hand and raised it to his lips.

  “A pleasure. I hope we’re not inconveniencing you, but when I arrived at the inn, they had failed to hold a room for me, and Lord Albert told me of your most generous offer.”

  “We’re thrilled to have you,” cooed Angela Cornwall, evidently taken with the attractive young man and his excellent manners. “We’re just sitting down for dinner. Please, join us,” she said to the three. Then, leaving the men to themselves, she took Francine to her room so that she could supervise her unpacking and refresh herself.

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  “It’s so unfair! Why is this necessary?” asked Kira as William escorted her to her rooms. “I feel so humiliated! Why don’t they trust me? Where could I go? Would I shame them in front of their guests?”

  “Kira, I’m truly sorry.” His eyes and face showed sincerity. “Stephan will relent soon, I know he will. But you must be patient. Soon he will trust you.”

  “What is he afraid of? Does he think I’ll tell the world that I’m being held against my will? Even Uncle James permitted me to be with guests!”

  “Kira, I cannot help what he does. It hurts me as much as it does you.” Saying this, William took her hand in both of his. He squeezed it gently, trying to comfort her. “Kira, I…”

  “No, don’t say it. William, please be my friend, be my brother. Nothing else, I pray.” She was suddenly embarrassed for him. She liked the boy and felt warm toward him, and it was painful for both of them when she was forced to reject his advances.

  “I can’t help what I feel,” he said, his voice rising before Kira cut him off.

  “You must. For both of us, you must.” She pulled her hand from his.

  “Kira, no,” he cried harshly. His hands flew to his temples and his face twisted in an agony of pain.

  “William, are you all right?” He turned from her and ran down the hallway. She stood there, dismayed. The boy was so fragile and she hated to hurt him—but sometimes he seemed to behave violently just to cause a reaction.

  No more, she vowed. I will not be manipulated by anyone anymore!

  Kira knew the reason for her latest banishment from the table. It was the same couple as had visited the previous evening—and, in addition, they had brought a guest. She walked to the window and looked out. Their carriage was being brought to the stables and the horse was being led away to a stall. Suddenly, a new idea took shape in her mind. There was an extra horse now, one that might not be missed for a long period. She might be able to use it…

  Sean sat in the salon, still smiling the smile that had been ever-present on his face since they sat for dinner. Occasionally, his eyes stole to the large clock on the opposite wall. He wished these people would go to sleep. He yawned pointedly, but no one seemed to notice.

  Angela Cornwall sat at the piano, her fingers working the keyboard in an accomplished, if labored, manner. She had been entertaining her guests for almost an hour now, and everyone except Sean seemed oblivious to all else.

  Francine had been playing the doting mistress: ever solicitous of Lord Albert, rarely leaving his side.

  The dinner conversation had centered, as expected, on Sean. The Cornwalls questioned him concerning his business affairs in Burma and India; he had been able to field the questions well and make a good impression. He continued to keep his end of the conversation flowing so rapidly that his business and past history were lost to general talk. Lord Albert helped by telling the Cornwalls, in strict confidence, that Sean was one of the people responsible for England’s large gains over the East India Company. Stephan even inquired about the possibilities of his own company’s potential to do business with Sean. All in all, the evening had been a success.

  Just as Sean was beginning to despair of getting away, Charles, the butler, entered the salon.

  “Sir Malcolm, Lord Ramsbotham’s driver wishes to know if you’ll be wanting him to bring the horse into town in the morning?” he asked. This was Ian’s signal, and Sean responded with the prearranged message.

  “Why no, Charles, tell him I’ll be going on to London with Lord Albert and shan’t need the horse seen to,” he said. “It can wait until London.”

  “Problem with your mount?” asked Stephan Cornwall, as he pulled his attention away from his wife’s music.

  “Not really. I think I just overtaxed the poor beast trying to keep my appointment with Albert. He’s been favoring his right hindquarter.”

  “I’ll have my blacksmith look him over in the morning,” offered Cornwall. Sean accepted with a nod. The message that Ian had given Sean was that he’d talked with the other servants and that he had information about the woman upstairs.

  After another drink, Francine pleaded weariness and the gathering dispersed. She went to the room she would share with Albert, and Angela went to her room and Sean to his. Albert and Stephan decided to share another drink after bidding everyone else a good sleep.

  When Sean reached his room, he waited for Francine, who crept down the silent corridor to join him. Ian was already there, and his first words confirmed Sean’s fears.

  “Aye, sir. The lady’s here, but things in this house ain’t right,” he stated, as his eyes flicked about nervously.

  Kira cursed her luck as she sneaked past the still occupied kitchen. On any other night the servants would have already been sleeping, but tonight, with the guests, the staff was still about. She’d already been forced to steal inside a nearby closet when Markham and Charles had passed near her; they were deep in a rather crude conversation about Lord Ramsbotham’s newest mistress. Now, as Kira reached the servants’ door that led outside, she heard the piano stop and she drew in her breath sharply. The evening’s entertainment was over.

  She had to move quickly, before the company left the salon, or she would have to wait for another day.

  Moving silently from the door to the stables, she barely breathed. She had not been able to find any head-covering and this worried her, since her hair was such a brilliant hue and so abundant. Her feet made little noise as she steadied the pack on her back and moved stealthily.

  She wore her riding breeches and her calf-high boots. Under her new jacket was her chamois shirt for warmth. The knife, in its harness, was secure beneath it, but not as accessible as she wanted.

  Her rapier was attached to the pack, just within reach so she could whip it out quickly.

  She opened the stable’s side door and slipped in, passing her practice area. The disheveled straw dummy had almost been cut in half from her earlier angered practicing.

  Kira slipped past it to the first stall, which held the extra guest’s horse. As she came closer, the horse reared back slightly and let out a low whinny.

  “Shhhh,” she whispered, “no one will hurt you. Shhhh.” She stroke his silky brown mane. The horse settled down, and then Kira unbolted the door and pulled the bridle from its hook. She quickly put the bridle on him, debating for a split second about the saddle. She decided against it, not wanting to make any more noise than was necessary, and led the horse out of the stall.

  Looking around to make sure she was still alone, she led the horse out of the stable and around the back. She continued to walk for several hundred feet before mounting the gelding and riding on, keeping the horse on the soft dirt until she reached the place where she had hidden provisions earlier in the day. When the food was secured in her pack, she put her arms around the horse’s neck and lifted herself onto its back and urged him to a slow walk. No alarm had been raised, she was sure of that.

  Kira tasted the sweet air of the first freedom she had known in several months and almost shed tears of relief. But she kept her emotions under control—she needed all her wit
s about her. When she reached the main road, she halted the horse.

  Kira closed her eyes, willing herself to remember the direction the carriage had turned from the day she arrived. Kira turned the horse left, which pointed south, toward the coast, and gave him his head. As she galloped down the road keeping a constant vigil both in front and behind her, Kira knew her freedom was becoming a reality.

  CHAPTER 26

  The moon had set an hour ago and the strain of the long ride was affecting Kira. The horse’s bare back was wearing on her muscles. She had sacrificed comfort for stealth and was obliged to slow her mount to a walk.

  Only now, several hours away from Stephan Cornwall’s huge estate, did the possible ramifications of her escape become apparent. Her impatience to leave, her unwillingness to wait another few days for Sean, her anger at this evening’s dismissal—all of these things ate at her. That she was free was of course paramount, but now that she had succeeded in obtaining freedom, what lay ahead?

  She had met no one on her ride and hoped that it would remain that way. She was moving smoothly at an easy pace she knew would be the least tiring for her. Although exhausted, her feeling of excitement gave her strength. Her eyes were ever vigilant, constantly darting about in front of and behind her.

  An hour earlier, she’d heard a muffled sound in the distance. At first, she was sure it was thunder, but later she heard the rumble of carriage wheels and the heavy pounding of horses’ hooves.

  She pulled the horse into a small thicket of trees on one side of the road and waited. Within a minute, several horses and riders passed, followed by a dark carriage and then by two more horses.

  Where would they be going in such a rush at this hour, taking no heed of the dark road? She’d wondered while waiting another five minutes.

  Leaning against the bole of a tree, she closed her eyes and listened to the fading sound of the horses.

  When she was certain no one else followed, she continued on horseback, letting the horse pick his own slow pace through the darkness.

  As Kira followed a slight bend in the road, she saw something dark lying in her path. She halted her horse and strained to see what it was. She urged her horse closer, and suddenly reined him to a halt at the sight of an unmoving shape. A second later she realized it was a man.

  Kira jumped from her horse and bent over the still form. She could detect no life in the body. With a hard pull on one of his arms, she turned him face up. Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw the dark hole in his forehead above his staring eyes. Blood still flowed from the bullet wound. Next to him lay a pistol, its hammer cocked. Kira stepped back, in fright, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she looked around her, trying to penetrate the darkness. Was the man’s murderer near? Her horse, smelling death, began to snort and stamp its forelegs nervously. She went to him and quickly jumped on his back, digging the heels of her boots into his flanks and making him run.

  She’d gone less than fifty feet when a strange apparition jumped from the bushes, startling her horse and making him rear.

  Kira grasped at the animal’s mane but lost hold and fell to the ground in a whirling blaze of stars and dark foliage. The sharp, painful meeting of her head with the earth took her senses away. She did not see or hear the figure who loomed above her.

  “Ho—what have we here? Luck is with me tonight. Twice I be getting me due!” said the dark man, as he bent to retrieve Kira’s bundle, which had fallen to one side. He flipped what he thought to be a young boy onto his stomach and cut the straps that held the hastily constructed pack with his knife.

  After first removing the rapier, he took the bundle apart and shook out a woman’s dress. “What the…?” Again he turned the body over to examine it more closely. His hands pressed down on the chest and he felt the soft flesh that was imprisoned under the shirt and jacket. Then he reached up to touch the skin on her face and smiled evilly.

  The highwayman put two fingers in his mouth and let out three sharp, short whistles. Seconds later, five men stood above the unconscious Kira.

  “Get the ’orse,” he yelled to the man closest to him. “Take ’er,” he commanded two others. As they lifted her between them, the leader spied the purse that dangled at her waist. He went to it, quickly slitting the strings that held it and pouring its contents into his hands.

  “A good ’aul,” he said loudly. “Bring ’er along now, boys.”

  The ragged band of six men picked out the familiar path into the forest; one of them coaxing Kira’s horse behind him. When they came to a more thickly wooded area, the leader told the two carrying Kira to put her over the horse.

  Twenty minutes later, they reached a small clearing where several ramshackle huts were placed close together. Kira was put in one. After she had been secured with rope, the men gathered in another. Their leader lit a lantern so they could look over the night’s substantial haul.

  Rarely did they get as much as they had tonight. First the foolish traveler, with his mounted escort. As soon as the lead rider had fallen, the rest turned to stone and the band had robbed them without any struggle. They had gotten a fair amount of gold coins.

  Dick Spanial was the most feared highwayman in the region, and of those he robbed, few lived to tell of the event. The only reason that Kira had not been shot was that the men were finished for the night. Now, sitting around and counting their loot, the men began to discuss their plans for the young girl.

  “Y’ do nothin’ till yer told,” commanded Spanial, as he finished reloading his pistol. “First one of yer that tries gonna get himself blown to pieces.” His formidable appearance, glowering eyes and wild, unkempt beard, gave him authority over his men. The group’s grumblings quieted as each found a pallet to sleep on.

  When all the men were asleep, Spanial went to his own hut where Kira was tied. She was still unconscious and, from the look of her would probably stay that way until daybreak. He checked her bonds, making sure that they were secure, and then lay down on the pallet that was near her. He dozed, but each time Kira moved he was instantly alert. He was looking forward to daybreak and to learning more about this strange find.

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  In Farnham, hours before dawn, a figure emerged from Kira’s closet and slipped into her boudoir. Very quietly, the bedroom door opened—just as it had nightly since Kira’s arrival. The intruder’s eyes searched the room but tonight the bed was empty.

  The bed had not been touched all night. The sitting room was searched. Empty! Using a flint, the person lit a candle, squinting at the sudden flare of orange-yellow light. Then, carefully, the intruder searched everywhere. Kira’s jewelry, two dresses and her boots were gone. The fencing rapier was missing as well.

  Suddenly, a light tapping came from the sitting room door and the knob turned, clicking loudly in the silence.

  Alarmed, the intruder turned to the closet and hurried through the hidden doorway that led to the maze of passages.

  Sean let himself into Kira’s room and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He spotted the doorway that must lead to the bedroom and, walking stealthily so as not to make any noise, he opened the door.

  Moonlight spilled into the bedroom, illuminating it enough for him to see that it was empty. He passed through quickly, checking all the adjoining rooms. Nothing. Then, on the corner of the dressing table, he saw two empty gold frames— the miniatures of Kira’s mother and father. He knew then what must have happened.

  Angry at himself—and at her—he hurried from the room and went directly to Francine’s.

  “She’s gone!” he hissed sharply, shaking his sister from a deep sleep. “Dammit, she’s gone!” Francine stared at Sean blankly at first, and then with dawning realization.

  “How could she? Where could she go?”

  “I told you last night. She’s stubborn, she’s strong. She took the first chance she got and ran. And I supplied that chance!” he said bitterly, as he recognized the irony of the situation. “Where could she go
…?” He repeated Francine’s question, and shrugged as he answered it himself: “Home!”

  Lord Albert heard their voices and came in from his adjoining room. When they had explained what happened, the older man sat in the bedside chair and rested his chin in his hand. “Difficult position, what?” he murmured. “Damned little we can do right now. Not supposed to know her.”

  Just then, the sounds of a horse and rider carried into the room. Sean stopped his angry pacing and ran to the window. In the distance, riding past the main house was the silhouette of a slim man in shirtsleeves. When he described the man, Albert nodded knowingly.

  “William,” he declared.

  This added another worry to Sean’s mind. Did William, too, know that Kira was gone? Why would he ride after her instead of telling his stepfather? And was William going after her, or was he on some other errand?

  “I have an idea,” ventured Albert Ramsbotham. He went to Sean and stood beside him at the window.

  “I can go for a walk. No matter that it’s well past midnight. Everyone knows the eccentricities of an old man. I’ll discover the stable door open or some such thing, and tell them I saw a girl ride away. It’s excuse enough to wake the house,” he said, with the beginning of a grin.

  “I can’t let you,” Sean protested, and his concern was quickly echoed by Francine.

  “Oh, bosh! I’m a pretty spry old man. Let me handle this,” he pleaded. Sean thought for a moment and, finally, he nodded.

  Lord Ramsbotham went to his room to change and returned a few moments later. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her!” he promised as he left the room.

  When the door closed, Francine went to Sean and took his hand in hers. She felt the tension in his body and squeezed his hand tightly. He turned to her, smiling.

  “Robert told me before I left, that this was a journey of desire. I agreed with him then—but now I don’t.” He looked out the window at the waning moon. “It’s a journey of love.” He needed to kiss Kira, to feel her body against his. Most of all, he needed to know she was alive and unharmed.