‘I think we’re at Drayforth’s country estate,’ she whispered. ‘I came to my senses before I was carried into the cottage, and managed to see something of our surroundings,’ she explained.
He nodded. ‘I think you’re right. His estate is not far from Bath, and he would find it the most convenient place to bring us, particularly at such short notice. This is probably one of the labourers’ cottages.’
‘He’s not much of a landlord,’ said Eleanor, looking round the cottage. The walls were uneven, and the floor was made of mud, over which were scattered dirty rushes.
‘I agree, ‘ said Lucien with a wry smile. ‘But we have more important things to think about. Such as getting out of here before Drayforth returns. Until then we’re safe. His henchmen won’t do anything without him.’
‘I’m surprised he’s not here already,’ said Eleanor.
‘He would not want to attract attention by leaving the celebrations early. He would want to behave like any other guest. I only hope he didn’t get to the general.’
‘The man you set on his trail?’ asked Eleanor.
Lucien nodded. ‘Still, we can’t worry about that now.’
‘No. We have other things to worry about.’
Eleanor strained at the ropes which bound her wrists, but it was no good, they were too firmly tied for her to be able to get free. And Lucien was in an even worse predicament. By the dim light of the moon drifting in through the high, narrow window she could see that he was tied to a rickety chair. His legs were tied to the chair legs and his hands were tied behind him before being tied to the chair back.
‘I can stand, but I certainly can’t overpower our guard,’ said Eleanor, ‘and even if I could, you couldn’t possibly walk like that.’
‘I shouldn’t need to,’ he surprised her by saying. ‘I have a knife in my pocket.’
Her eyebrows lifted.
‘This kind of situation is not unknown to me,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘It’s as well to be prepared.’
‘Even when attending a wedding?’
‘Traitors don’t allow themselves to be sidetracked by considerations such as that.’
‘No, I don’t suppose they do,’ she agreed. ‘Which pocket is your knife in?’
‘The right one.’
She looked doubtful. With her hands tied behind her back, getting the knife out of his pocket would not be easy. She said nothing of her doubts to Lucien, however. Something must be done to save them, and this was the only chance they had.
She turned round slowly, so that her back was towards him. Then, edging backwards on her knees, she came to rest with her hands against his coat. She felt her way across his body until she found the hard ridge made by his knife. She managed to hook her fingers round the opening of his pocket and then sent them questing downwards, feeling for the hilt. She touched it, and wrapped her fingers round it, but she could not grip it sufficiently well to pull it out.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘The ropes are so tight they’ve cut off most of the circulation in my hands.’
‘Yes, you can,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Rub your hands together to restore your circulation and try again.’
She did as he suggested, rubbing her hands awkwardly together, and managed to improve her circulation. Then, readjusting her position and rising a little higher on her knees, she tried again.
This time she managed to grasp the hilt firmly. But just as she was about to pull it out she hesitated.
‘If I pull it out awkwardly, it will cut you,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry. It’s sheathed.’
Reassured, she wrapped her fingers firmly around the knife and pulled hard. It moved.
‘You’re doing it,’ he said.
She tugged on it again, and succeeding in drawing it out above the top of his pocket. But her hands were aching, and she stopped to rest them. She was just flexing her fingers when she heard the sound of horses approaching the cottage. Drayforth!
Spurred on, she seized the knife and managed to pull it free. But there was no time to cut Lucien’s bonds.
‘Get away,’ he hissed, as voices approached the other side of the door.
She threw herself onto the pallet, mimicking her earlier position by throwing herself down with her face against the wall. She dropped the knife in front of her and concealed it in the folds of her skirt. She closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness, and waited.
The door opened, and the light of a lantern spilled into the room.
From where she was lying she could not see what was happening, but she heard the sound of footsteps entering the room, and then Drayforth’s voice said, ‘Ah, Silverton. You’ve come round.’
‘As you see.’ Lucien’s reply was bravely uttered, and anyone hearing him without seeing him would never have guessed that he was bound hand and foot.
‘Good.’
‘I see you’ve brought another couple of ruffians with you,’ said Lucien scathingly.
Eleanor’s heart sank. How was she possibly to get away, and Lucien too, if Drayforth now had three accomplices?
Lucien’s voice continued mockingly. ‘I might have known you’d be unwilling to tackle a man who’s bound hand and foot on your own.’
‘Very amusing,’ replied Drayforth.
His words were bland but his tone showed that Lucien’s words had made him angry.
Eleanor heard two sets of footsteps taking a few paces, and realized that two of the men had taken up their places, one on either side of the door.
Her heart sank still further. But she must not give way. There was still a chance that she would be able to escape. She could not at present try to pull Lucien’s knife out of its scabbard and cut her ropes, as any movement on her part would be seen. But perhaps, if they were left alone, she would be able to get free.
‘Now, Lucien, it’s time you and I had a little talk.’
‘Yes, let’s,’ said Lucien.
Eleanor was amazed at how calm he sounded. Although she knew he was used to dangerous situations, he surely couldn’t ever have been in a worse predicament than this.
‘I’d be interested to know just when you decided to turn traitor,’ Lucien continued.
‘Traitor?’ Drayforth sounded amused. ‘I’m not a traitor. I’m as loyal as I’ve ever been - to myself. My arrangement with Kendrick was very lucrative.’ His voice became musing. ‘It’s a pity it had to end.’
Something in his tone alerted Eleanor, and a flash of understanding hit her. It was Drayforth who had killed Mr Kendrick.
The same flash of understanding had evidently hit Lucien at the same moment. ‘It was you who killed him.’
‘It was indeed. Once his identity was discovered he was of no further use to me. He was just a liability.’
‘I should have guessed.’
‘You would have done in time, which is why I tried to kill you, too. You were already beginning to suspect that Kendrick had a contact on the inside, and it wouldn’t have been long before you’d started to suspect me. An accident with the gas - so unreliable, this new form of lighting - and you were no further threat. But it didn’t quite work. Miss Grantham interrupted me and I had to flee. A pity. I was hoping to steal the documents back again as I had a buyer for them. But I hadn’t time to find the documents so I had to abandon them. But I didn’t abandon my attempt to kill you. Sooner or later, you would have met with another accident. It’s just that, when I overheard Miss Grantham in the conservatory and knew that she had recognised me, I realized it would have to be sooner.’
‘So what is it going to be? A carriage accident? A pistol that blows up in my face? Whatever it is, questions will be asked.’
‘I don’t think so. You see, I have started a rumour that you have run away with Miss Grantham. So if you are never seen again no one will wonder at it. They will assume you are hiding out in Wales, or Scotland, or some other such remote place.’
‘You did what?’
Drayforth smirked. �
�You don’t like the idea? I thought it was rather good. An accident is always a messy thing - as you say, there’s always the possibility that someone will become suspicious and questions will be asked. But this way, no one will know you are dead. They will simply think you have chosen to disappear. No fuss, no mess, no problem.’
‘You don’t really think the general will let it rest at that?’ demanded Lucien.
‘The general has been taken care of,’ remarked Drayforth dryly.
There was a deathly silence.
Then Lucien, recovering himself, said, ‘And what about Miss Grantham? She has powerful relatives. They won’t believe a word of it.’
‘You think not? I’m not so sure. Oh, they put a good face on it, of course. They declared it was nonsense, and said that Miss Grantham had simply retreated with a bad head. But when she isn’t seen, and you are also missing, the rumour will be believed, and no one will come looking for you.’
Eleanor felt her spirits sink. She had been hoping that Charles would have sent out footmen to look for her, but under the circumstances he wouldn’t be doing any such thing.
Their only hope now lay in Cooper.
Knowing that she and Lucien had been involved in a dangerous enterprise, Eleanor hoped he would not believe Drayforth’s lies and would see fit to investigate. But he was a man of action, not planning, and he would need help to set a rescue in motion. All of which would take time. So that if they wanted to escape, they would have to do it themselves.
‘You —’ began Lucien angrily.
‘Careful, now. There’s a lady present,’ Drayforth taunted him. ‘Although, unfortunately, not a conscious one. Never mind. Give her time. Now, I’ve answered your questions, so you can answer mine. I’ve a mind to know how many troops —’
‘I’m not answering any of your questions,’ growled Lucien.
‘Do you know? I believe you. And even if I told my friends here to hit you, I don’t think they’d be able to make you oblige. But if I get them to hit Miss Grantham once she’s come round, I think you’ll co-operate: it’s one thing for you to remain silent when a fist is finding its way into your face, it’s quite another when it’s finding its way into Miss Grantham’s.’
‘You cur,’ roared Lucien. There was a scraping sound, and Eleanor realized that, despite being tied to a chair, Lucien was trying to throw himself at Drayforth.
‘Not at all,’ remarked Drayforth. ‘Just a believer in free enterprise.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to think about what I’ve said. Of course, if you co-operate, Miss Grantham needn’t be hurt at all. It’s your choice. I hope for her sake you make the right one.’
Eleanor heard the sound of footsteps, and knew that Drayforth was leaving the room. There was the sound of a bar being dropped on the other side of the door.
But what about the guards? Not for the first time, she wished she could see what was happening. Had Drayforth left the guards in the room? Or, it being so small, had he taken them through to the next room?
There was a silence.
Then Lucien whispered, ‘Eleanor.’
‘Yes?’
‘They’ve gone.’
She gave a sigh of relief.
Outside the cottage, she could hear the sound of a horse snuffling, and then a minute later came the sound of hooves. They gradually picked up speed and she guessed that Drayforth was riding away. A light from the next room, however, showed that he had not taken his henchmen with him. They had stayed behind, on guard.
There was no time to delay. The guards could decide to come into the room at any time. Turning her attention to the business of cutting her ropes, she turned herself with difficulty on the dirty pallet until she could grasp the knife, then pulled it out of its sheath. She tried to rub the ropes over the blade, but to her frustration they just kept pushing the knife away. Without some way of wedging, or holding, the knife still she could not cut the ropes.
‘Bring it over here,’ said Lucien in a low voice.
Grasping the knife, she crawled over to Lucien on her knees.
‘Hold it still,’ he said.
‘Ah!’
She saw what he intended. If she held the knife, then he could rub the ropes that bound his wrists over the blade.
She arranged herself with her back to him, so that she was kneeling behind him. The knife was at the right level to cut his ropes. Keeping it steady, she put just enough pressure on it to force it against his bonds. He moved his hands up and down, and the rope began to fray. At last it was cut through. He pulled his hands apart, and the rope fell away. Then she cut the rope that bound him to the chair back.
He turned and took the knife out of her hands, cutting the ropes around his ankles as well as those that bound him to the chair legs, and then gave his attention to Eleanor. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck as he knelt behind her, cutting her bonds. At last they were done. Freeing her hands of the last vestiges of rope, she rubbed them together to restore her circulation.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly.
She nodded.
‘Here. Let me see.’
He took her hands. With a frown he examined the red marks around her wrists. The rope had been tied tightly, and it had cut into her soft flesh. Kneeling beside her, with one knee raised, he exuded masculinity. His hair was as dark as a raven’s wing and it was falling forward across his face. She could not see his expression. The moonlight filtering through the window was slight, and his face was shadowed.
But when he lifted her hands her heart missed a beat. There could be no doubting his intention. He was going to place soft kisses on the red marks. His mouth hovered an inch from her wrist, and she tingled as she felt his breath. It was warm and caressing. And then he kissed her wrists. His touch set her skin on fire. She should not respond to him but she could not help it.
His fingers closed round her own.
‘I’m sorry I got you into this,’ he said.
‘If I remember rightly, I got myself into it,’ she said. Seeking to dispel the tension that hung in the air she added with a flash of humour, ‘if I recall, it was my pig headedness that was to blame!’
He smiled. ‘Did I really call you pig headed?’
‘You did. And with good reason,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘You warned me about Mr Kendrick, but I refused to listen.’
‘How could you, when you were protecting your sister?’
‘Poor Arabella.’ Eleanor’s voice dropped. ‘She will be dreadfully unhappy. I hope she does not believe what Mr Drayforth said. I would hate to think I have rescued her from one predicament, only to drag her into another.’
‘Don’t worry. She isn’t alone. She is married now. Charles will help her.’
Eleanor was comforted.
A noise from the next room recalled them to the present.
Lucien dropped her hands and stood up. Striding over to the door, he put his eye to the rotten timbers. They were punctuated by holes. Some of the holes were small, made by woodworm. Others were large enough to look through.
A minute later he turned to her and said, ‘There’s only one ruffian in the next room.’
There came a rumbling sound from outside, accompanied by the clip clop of horses’ hooves.
‘So that’s it,’ he said. ‘Drayforth must have told the other two to move the carriage. He knows it will seem odd if it’s seen outside one of the labourers’ cottages. They must be taking it up to the main house.’
‘And Drayforth?’
‘My guess is that he has ridden back to his house. He probably wants to sleep and eat before returning to interrogate me. Once he starts, he won’t be intending to stop until he’s extracted everything he wants to know.’
Eleanor shuddered. The thought of Drayforth interrogating Lucien did not bear thinking about.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said comfortingly. ‘By the time he gets back we will no longer be here.’
His eyes warmed, and she felt herself smile. No matter how
foolish it was, she could not help having feelings for him.
‘If there is only one man guarding us, then now is the time for us to make our escape,’ she said.
‘It is. I’ll go first. Wait here until I call you.’
She nodded.
He applied his eye to the hole in the door once. Then, having ascertained exactly where their captor was, he took a step back from the door and with a flex of his powerful muscles he kicked it open, breaking the bar. The door flew back. Eleanor had a brief vision of the startled ruffian rising from his stool, and then Lucien wrestled him to the ground, knocking him out with one well-placed blow.
Rising, he turned to Eleanor and motioned her to stay still.
‘It’s possible only one of the others took the carriage back to the manor house,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We must be cautious. There might still be someone about.’
There was a window looking northwards. Flattening himself against the wall, Lucien approached it carefully and looked out.
Eleanor held her breath. Would the other ruffian be there? And, if so, would he be dealt with as easily?
‘I don’t see anyone,’ said Lucien.
He went over to the door. Opening it a crack, he looked out.
He turned to Eleanor. ‘No one. Wait here, whilst I check it’s safe outside.’
He was gone for a few minutes. Then he returned.
‘It seems to be clear. There’s a small wood not far from the cottage. We’ll make for that. You will go first, and I will be right behind you. If by any chance the ruffians return, run straight for the trees and don’t look back. Do you understand?’
Eleanor nodded. Although if Lucien needed help then nothing on earth would prevent her from turning back to give it to him.
‘Good. Once under cover of the trees we can think about how to get back to Bath.’
They must do it as quickly as possible, Eleanor realized, and be seen going about their normal employments, before the rumour of their running away together had time to spread.
Lucien slipped out of the door. Eleanor followed. Together they looked round, checking again that there was no one there. Eleanor looked towards the small wood. It was no more than two hundred yards away, and should be easy to reach. The ground in between was level, and whilst she would have to take care not to step on any of the abandoned gardening tools - a bent rake, a spade, and a broken hoe - and swerve a little to avoid a small tumbledown shed, the run should not prove too difficult.
The Silverton Scandal Page 16
