Biting her lip, she stared down at Carstairs’s inanimate form, which was solidly blocking her path, and gave a little shake of her head, knowing that it would be completely impossible for her to try to move his bulky weight away from the doorway. Her impetuous action had saved her from one parlous situation, only to cut off her only means of escape from the building!
Dispiritedly, she looked about for a solution to this new difficulty. The only other means of exit were, as far as she could recall from her childhood adventures, by way of the doors of the upper gallery, which, apart from being two storeys higher, were also some twenty feet or more above the ground. Daredevil Harry and some of his equally intrepid friends, she remembered wistfully, had frequently hauled themselves up to the gallery by way of the mill’s winching-chain, intent upon rescuing Rapunzel or bearding the giant in his den, whichever had been the current favourite. Of course, none of them would ever have dreamed of allowing his sisters to attempt such a dangerous activity and, after the twelve-year-old Simon Quentin had fallen and broken his arm, the mill had been placed forever out of bounds to them all.
Fear gnawed at the pit of Georgina’s stomach as she moved towards what remained of the steep ramshackle stairway at the side of the room and studied it nervously. Although the main side supports were still in place, she could see that several of the steps were, in fact, missing, and those that remained were practically falling to pieces, as indeed was quite a large section of the upper floor itself.
As if to spur her into action, a low gurgling moan emanated from the opposite side of the room and sheer fright caused her to hesitate no further. Taking a deep breath, she started to haul herself up what remained of the narrow incline and, although she lost her footing and slid backwards more than once, finally reached the floor above. Her enormous satisfaction at having overcome this first hurdle gave her the extra courage needed to crawl across the rafters of the first floor to reach the second flight of stairs, from the top of which she hoped that she would be able to gain access to the gallery. These stairs were in an even more dilapidated state than the previous set; it was only through the combination of a fiercely determined effort and a dogged refusal to be beaten did she finally manage to achieve her aim.
Retching and panting, she lay on the floor at the top of the second stairway. Her head still ached from her original injury, her fingers were covered in lacerations from the rough woodwork and, since both her petticoat and stockings were now ripped to shreds, her knees were grazed and sore and riddled with splinters. Wearily she rose once more to her feet and, being very careful to test her weight on each of the few remaining floorboards between herself and the exit, she inched her way past the central gear spindle and eventually reached the double doors that opened out on to the gallery.
Although these were shackled with a heavy iron bar across their centre, the weather-beaten timber was, possibly, in worse condition than the mill’s internal woodwork and the doors were barely hanging by their hinges. One good push would probably send them crashing on to the gallery, she was sure, but then paused to ask herself what would be the good of that, since Carstairs’s accomplice, the ferret-faced driver of the carriage, must be waiting in one of the barns and would certainly hear the noise and come out to investigate. So, once more gritting her teeth and bracing herself for the extra effort involved, she managed, with considerable difficulty, to raise the rusty bar from its brackets whereupon, utterly exhausted, she grasped one of the doors and gingerly pushed it outwards, freezing as she did so at every squeak and grate that cut across the silence, any one of which might easily serve to raise the alarm. Every so often, she stopped in her exertions and peered down anxiously through the many gaps in the floorboards, listening intently for any sign that Carstairs might have regained consciousness.
Eventually, the gap between the two doors became wide enough for her to slip through and she crept out on to the wrought-iron gallery where, totally overcome, she found herself suddenly incapable of movement. For some time she remained motionless, her eyes tightly closed and her back pressed firmly against the mill’s crumbling brickwork. Her heart was pounding in her eardrums as, dry-mouthed, she willed herself to venture towards the railing. She had never been very good with heights and knew that this final challenge could well be her undoing.
At last she summoned up the courage to creep forward and, tightly gripping the railings with both hands, knelt at the rim of the gallery, looking down fearfully at the ground which, from this height, seemed so very far away. Over to her left, she was relieved to see that the two lengths of the sail’s winching-chain were still hanging from the bar on the remains of the fantail’s framework high above her and looked, as far as she could tell, much as they had those many years ago. However, from her present viewpoint, she was unable to determine whether or not the ancient linkage was still intact. Trying not to dwell on the awful possibility that the chain might well snap as soon as she swung her weight on to it, but realising that she had no alternative, she told herself grimly that this was clearly something that she would soon very quickly find out.
Trembling at the enormity of the task that she had set herself, but conscious of the fact that she had very little choice in the matter, she clenched her jaw and stood up, moved around the gallery to where the pair of chains was hanging and reached out over the railing to grasp hold of the nearest one. Reminding herself that, at all costs, she must not look down, she hauled herself over the top of the railings and, clinging to both chain and toprail, sat motionless for several moments, balanced precariously above the ground, her eyes closed in a final desperate prayer for salvation. Then, without another thought, she launched herself over the edge.
Chapter Seventeen
Latimer, pistol at the ready, strode hurriedly across the compound, cleared the stone steps up to the mill’s entrance in a single leap and cautiously pushed against the door but, even when he attacked it with a more vigorous force, it refused to budge an inch. He pressed his ear against a crack in the splintered woodwork in the hope of hearing something from within but, apart from the eerie creaking of the decrepit sail-frames above his head and the raucous calling of the rooks in the surrounding woods, he could detect nothing until he suddenly became aware of a faint scraping and scuffling sound which seemed to be coming from the far side of the room. Conjuring up all manner of dreadful scenes that might be going on inside, he grew hot with rage and, laying down his pistol, leaned the full weight of his body against the door and heaved furiously at it until every sinew in his neck stood out in protest, but still it refused to respond. Again and again he hurled himself against its unresisting surface but, apart from adding to the number of splits and cracks in its ancient woodwork, his efforts were all in vain. Even his attempts at trying to peer through the cracks availed him nothing.
Clenching his fists in bitter frustration, he retrieved his weapon and, intent upon finding some other way to gain access to the building, vaulted smartly down the steps and, keeping close to the brickwork, began to work his way around the outside of the mill, only to find that both of the ground-floor windows had been heavily boarded from the inside and appeared totally impregnable.
On his arrival at the site, he had taken immediate stock of the pair of double doors on the gallery floor at the second level of the mill and had observed that the winching-chain that used to be part of the sails’ mechanism was still in place. He now wondered whether it would be possible to enter the building by this means and to surreptitiously make his way down to the ground floor and take the kidnappers by surprise. He had shinned up many a tall ship’s rigging in his time, so the thought of such an ascent held no fears for him.
He had just rounded the front of the building, located the bottom loop of the chain and, after casting a quick glance up to the gallery floor to gauge the distance, was preparing to hoist himself up on to the chain when, from somewhere above him, an almost imperceptible sound reached his ears. He stepped back sharply and, looking up again, saw, to his
utter dismay, a white-stockinged leg emerging over the gallery railings, followed almost immediately by the rest of Georgina’s slender form.
Transfixed with stupefaction, Latimer watched as she swayed dangerously on the narrow toprail and, as the realisation hit him that Georgina was about to use the chain to launch herself off the edge, his face turned ashen, for he knew that the moment she swung herself on to the chain the pulleys in the gearing system would strive to equalise the sudden change in weight, causing the length of chain from which she was hanging to plummet abruptly some three or four feet downwards. A horrified groan threatened to leave his throat and he swiftly clapped his hand over his mouth to stop himself howling out her name, conscious that any added distraction could easily cause her to lose her grip and tumble headlong to the ground.
The chain’s unexpected plunge left Georgina paralysed with fright, added to which the sickening jolt that occurred when it halted its descent almost wrenched her hands from their tenuous hold. The minutes ticked by with agonising slowness as, too terrified to move in case the ancient contraption slipped even further, she hung motionless from the chain, clinging tightly to its rusted links with both hands. When, at last, she managed to gather sufficient courage to proceed, she slid one hand tentatively down the chain to test the effect; not until she was as certain as she could be that it had ceased its precipitous fall did she continue her achingly slow descent.
Hand under hand and barely a link at a time, she continued to lower herself to the ground, all the time keeping her eyes firmly fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance, fearful that the sight of the ground so far below her might cause another wave of giddiness to wash over her and so distract her from her task.
Latimer, his heart almost at a complete standstill, watched Georgina’s downward progress every breath of the way, keeping well out of her line of vision and not daring to utter the slightest sound for fear that it might disturb her concentration. The fact that he could do nothing to help her was tearing him apart, although he realised that every inch that she managed to climb down would bring her closer to him and to safety. In addition, he was hopeful that Georgina would have the sense to see that, as the vertical chain came ever closer to the outwardly sloping face of the mill wall, it would be possible to make use of its rough brickwork to brace her feet against for the final few feet of the descent.
When she was approximately ten feet from the ground, Latimer allowed his rigid shoulders to relax a little and he began to breathe more easily but then, suddenly, to his utter horror, there came an ominous crack from one of the links in the chain high above. Georgina, who had no idea of the distance she had travelled and was still far too nervous to cast her eyes down, simply froze and hung motionless in mid-air, her arms now aching so dreadfully that she felt they were about to be wrenched from their sockets. Another sharp crack occurred, followed immediately by the gut-wrenching sound of metal fragmenting up in the windmill’s gear-wheel system and the broken end of the chain whipped out of its mooring, snaked crazily through the air and fell swiftly towards to the ground, carrying Georgina with it.
Instantly, Latimer, arms outstretched, leapt forward out of the shadows, hoping at the very least to break her fall before she hit the rough brickwork of the mill’s face but, as the full force of her weight struck him, he could not prevent himself rocking backwards and, for one terrible moment, it seemed as if they would both go crashing to the ground. Straining to remain on his feet, it was only with considerable effort that he eventually managed to right himself and, trembling with shock, he clutched her tightly to his chest, his ragged breathing clearly audible.
Her rapid descent suddenly halted, Georgina’s frightened gasp turned into a sob of distress when she suddenly felt herself being clutched at the waist by a strong pair of hands and then tightly encircled by an equally strong pair of arms, which proceeded to draw her down the entire length of a very solid masculine form. She was filled with horror at the thought that Carstairs must have recovered from his wound and, having worked out her plan of escape, had simply been lying in wait for her arrival but, as the familiar scent of Latimer’s sandalwood shaving lotion gradually permeated her senses, her heart almost exploded with the combined emotions of joy and relief.
Still shuddering violently, she raised her eyes to his and was deeply moved to see that his own were bright with unshed tears. ‘Oh, Edward,’ she gasped. ‘I was so frightened! I felt sure I would be killed!’
‘You little idiot!’ He seemed not to have noticed her use of his given name as he buried his face into her hair and pulled her more closely towards him, his arms tightening around her as he tried to still her convulsive trembling. ‘You brave but utterly foolhardy little idiot! What on earth possessed you to do such a thing? Dear God! I thought I had lost you!’
As the full impact of his words penetrated her still confused brain, Georgina’s shivers gradually subsided, but she made no attempt to remove herself from the strength and safety of his encircling arms. She could feel the unruly beating of his heart against her throat and would have been perfectly content to remain exactly as she was indefinitely, now that she was absolutely secure in the knowledge that Edward did, indeed, love her as much as she loved him, that all the nonsense about his not being able to support a wife no longer mattered one single iota! She closed her eyes and snuggled contentedly up to his lean, athletic body, confident that, now that they had at last found each other, all the ridiculous inconsistencies in their respective circumstances would be cast aside and nothing would be able to mar their future happiness together.
Latimer continued to hold her tightly, murmuring soft endearments into her ears while patting her soothingly on the back, as one would a frightened child but, as his senses grew more and more conscious of the warmth of her slender body so close to his own, his pulses quickened and, almost before he was aware of what he was doing, he had lowered his head and was fervently pressing his lips against her hair, then her brow and her cheeks, willing her to lift her face to him.
Georgina, immediately alerted to the subtle change in his manner, raised her head and, although her dark blue eyes smiled up at him almost shyly, the underlying expression that Latimer was able to read in them told him everything he needed to know. With a soft groan he bent her to him, his lips found hers and in one magic heartbeat they were lost in the wonder of their first kiss.
Tingles of warm delight ran through Georgina’s body as their lips finally met. Involuntarily her hands rose and caressed the back of Latimer’s neck, as she eagerly pressed herself against him, returning his embrace with a fervency that astounded and exhilarated him. Oblivious to the whole world they stood entwined, rapt in the giddiness of their newly discovered love until, with a reluctant sigh, Latimer forced himself to relinquish Georgina’s lips and, regretfully, pulled himself away from her.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for so long, my darling,’ he said huskily, his voice trembling with emotion. ‘However, much as I would like to continue with such a delightful pastime, there is something very important that I have to tell you—’
‘No, no!’ Eagerly she interrupted his words, hoping to save him from the embarrassment of having to confess his lack of substance. ‘You don’t have to say anything—I know all about it and none of it matters now!’
‘You know?’ Totally taken aback, Latimer stared down at her, his forehead creased in a frown. ‘But how can you possibly know?’
‘Mr Mansell told me,’ she stammered awkwardly, rushing to get her words out. ‘But your problem has been solved! There is no longer any need for you to worry about it—my uncle has provided me with a huge settlement—we will have more than enough for our needs, so you see—’
‘Mansell told you!’ he cut in angrily. ‘But he assured me—’ He stopped, momentarily confused as some of the gist of her words sank in. ‘What in heaven’s name are you talking about?’ he asked in astonishment. ‘Precisely what was it that Mansell said to you?’
‘He inti
mated that your lack of fortune was holding you back,’ came her reluctant reply. ‘But now that I am to have money of my own…’
She heard a sharp intake of breath and her heart fell as she registered the stony expression on Latimer’s face.
‘You surely cannot have assumed that, now that you are about to be an heiress, I would not scruple to sue for your hand?’ he said bitterly, turning away from her. ‘You clearly have a very poor opinion of me.’
Although she had known from the start that it would be no easy matter to persuade Latimer to accept her terms, she had certainly not envisaged that it would prove to be quite as difficult as it was turning out to be. Wearily, she studied his uncompromisingly rigid attitude until, suddenly irritated at such downright obduracy in the light of all that had recently occurred between them, she became equally determined to stick to her guns.
‘Why do you have to be so pig-headed, Edward? You must know that I was perfectly well aware that you would put up a fight!’ she flashed back at him. ‘And, I know that, from your point of view, it is by no means an ideal solution, but surely it is one that will serve! If the situations were reversed, I assure you that I should have no such compunctions.’
His face slowly cleared and a gleam of amusement crept into his eyes. ‘You are quite certain about that?’ he challenged, turning back to her.
‘I know that I would be quite prepared to forget all of my stupid principles if it meant that we could be together,’ she returned unsteadily, trying to hold back the tears that threatened. ‘And now I realise that you must think me the world’s biggest idiot—for one minute you had me believing that was what you wanted, too.’
Dorothy Elbury Page 22
