Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  His eyes scanned the street beyond the boundaries of his mansion; it was a still evening, and men were departing to their homes. Traders were putting the day’s work to rest and returning to the love of their families, the Duke imagined. Humbly, they would sit down together for dinner, drawing happiness from the company of their beloved, he envisaged. The cold of the evening threatened to put out the flames of hope that he had so dearly held on to.

  The sudden clinking of glass and metal buckles from the heels of a boot startled him out of his reverie. Across the street, he could see a small, vague figure making his way towards his mansion at great speed. As it drew closer, he recognised the blond ruffled hair and tiny body with the sack of glass bottles hanging from his neck as belonging to Pip. The Duke’s heart raced faster than Pip’s agile body could reach the Duke. He sprang from the sofa that he had been placed on since sunrise and immediately made his way out of the heavy, carved gates of the mansion.

  “What is it, boy? What news have you brought?” the Duke bellowed no sooner than Pip was entirely in sight.

  “Sir, sir, it’s the ma’am. I saw her …” Pip replied, desperately trying to form words through his heavy panting.

  “Calm down, boy. Narrate to me what has happened. Deliver the tale adequately.”

  “You must hurry, Sir. I saw men take her away. They grabbed her and took her.”

  “Are you certain, boy? Took her from where and where to?”

  “My eyes do not lie, Sir. ’Tis certain as could be. I was making my way to the bakery after the day’s work. I do so every day. My loaf was due today, so I decided it better to approach her earlier. That’s when I saw it, Sir. Men, perhaps five in number, took her away in a carriage as she begged to be released. They went westward, perhaps to leave London.”

  “There is no doubt that this could be the work of any other but the Earl of Aldrich and his men. Those bastards! I must rush before they do wrong to her. They will not have my mercy this time. Good job, son; I will see to it that you are rewarded accordingly.”

  The Duke then turned towards his house and let out a startling cry, “James! Bring my horse at once!”

  “Pitiful coward! His title deserves greater refinement of manners! Stooping to villainy, his ancestors must spit on his blood,” he growled lowly to himself. He could feel his anger expand abominably.

  “Make haste, James! And send along four more men of strength and wit. My endeavour will require their aid. Come without delay, James, or I’ll have your head, too.”

  Without a moment’s delay, the Duke was riding towards the outskirts of London, his troupe following close behind. Just as he was reaching the parameter of London, he caught sight of a man, seemingly the stable master, and halted the party immediately.

  “You there!” the Duke bellowed.

  “Aye, Sir.”

  “Are you the stable master?”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  “Have you had any odd sightings about here lately?”

  “Aye, Sir. A party just left, not long before you. Men that seemed not too trustable by manner with a carriage and a man tied to a horse. The man seemed to be the one who had stopped by here earlier this morning. He had been in a hurry and left his horse in exchange for a fresh one. You can see it from here, Sir. It stands across, in the stable.”

  “Heaven’s Mercy! That horse belongs to Tobias. He keeps it dearly.” He then turned towards his party, “You two upon the same horse: one of you dismount and take Tobias’ horse along.” Looking back, he addressed the stable master, “Guide us, good fellow, to the direction that the wretched party sought.”

  The stable master vigilantly raised his hand, pointed to the direction that he had seen the ruffians depart.

  “Whatever doubt had remained in my mind is entirely removed. That is the way to Aldrich. Come along men; we must pick up pace. And this, for your service,” the Duke said as he emptied the coins from his pocket into the stable master’s hand who stood there stunned at events of the day as the Duke disappeared into the horizon.

  Chapter 17

  With a loud thud, Abigail felt herself plopped on a hay sack. She could make out very little of her whereabouts through her hazy vision. As she attempted to rub her eyes, she became aware of a rope that tied her hands to her back. Her voice held back by the rag still in her mouth, she coughed until she had spit it out.

  “Somebody, please help!” She let out an exasperated, hopeless cry.

  “It’s no use, lassy.”

  Startled, she became aware that she was not alone in her miserable situation. Next to her, tied up too, sat Tobias. His upright stature was deprived of his stony demeanour. His forehead was creased, and his eyes, brooding. She suddenly became aware of an open wound on his arm where blood clotted from having been left unattended too long.

  “Oh, my!” she yelped. “It must hurt tremendously.”

  “Surely. But time has its way of numbing us to pain.”

  “Where are we?” she asked, her voice filled with dread.

  “At the Earl’s estate. In the barn. His men have gone in to clear the way to his chambers for us to be taken there.”

  “Why did they not take us directly? Why delay our agony?”

  “The Earl is dining, and they fear the maids might see. You know how it is; if the maids talk, the town talks.”

  “Oh, pitiful fate. What have we done to deserve this, Tobias? Why must we find ourselves in this detestable situation.”

  “It is punishment, lassy. Mine for self-uprightness and yours for haste.”

  “I’m not certain I understand what you mean,” Abigail responded, flustered.

  “I had been blinded by my obedience to Sire’s blood and had committed the folly of leading him astray, away from you, away from what seemed to me a possible threat to his respect. And you, silly girl, had been hasty in believing what you heard, without assessing its credibility.”

  “What is it that you are referring to? Please speak to me very directly, Tobias.”

  “About your father, lassy. You abandoned the Duke out of delusion. The news that reached you was a falsity. A result of the enmity that the Earl dare not let die. Your father, the miner, died not of an accident from the Duke’s neglect but of an ailment that had gone unnoticed. I heard so from the physician, myself.”

  “Heaven’s curse upon me! How could I have exercised so little judgement? How could reason have so escaped me? I am the Duke’s culprit. I have wronged him beyond forgiveness is warranted.”

  “Wipe away those tears, missy. The moment calls for strength, and there is no wrong that cannot be undone. But to set things right, we must make our way out of here first.”

  “No one’s making their way, anywhere!” roared a loud voice from behind them. There stood Lance, torchlight gleaming menacingly on his face, his villainous smile shining vividly in the dark. “The Duke will meet you now.” He let out a slow, threatening laugh as his men grabbed them to take them away.

  Chapter 18

  “Where are they, Samuel,” asked the Earl as he sat beside the fireplace in his parlour slowly sipping his tea, watching some coals take their dying breath.

  “In the barn, My Lord,” came the reply, “Shall I call for them?”

  “Aye, Samuel. Call for them. It’s about time that I be reunited with my lovely dove,” said the Earl, “Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Certainly, My Lord, certainly. Just a moment, then.”

  With that, Samuel Cooper slid away, leaving the Earl alone to his thoughts. He looked at the dark sky outside the window, lit with a million stars. “The stars know their place and their course in the night sky. Then why, oh Abigail, my star, did you drift away from your place beside me?” he muttered to himself. The Earl failed to understand why Abigail had betrayed him. Why she had run off to the wretched city of London when he, himself, had offered to marry her and grant her the title of Countess so that she may share in the treasures of Aldrich and have servants at her command to do her bidding. “
I shall have my answers, Abigail,” he muttered again.

  Suddenly, Samuel reappeared in the doorway. “Lance and Matt are bringing them up right now, My Lord Earl,” he said.

  “Excellent,” said the Earl, looking at him. “Is there something bothering you, Samuel?” he asked, “What an odd expression on your face; you have the look of a man whose wife ran away with his stable boy,” he mused.

  “It’s nothing, My Lord Earl,” said Samuel, a bit hesitant. “It’s just that …” he stopped short.

  “Just what, Samuel?”

  “Just the weather, My Lord,” stammered the man, “just the weather.”

  “Ah yes, the weather.” The Earl smiled, “As fickle as a changeful dream.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door. “Enter,” said the Earl, and the door creaked open. Lance came in first, holding one end of a rope. The Earl gasped as Abigail trailed in afterwards, her hands out in front of her, tied to each other tightly. Her wrists were a dull red where the rope had cut into her skin, and she looked dishevelled, with a part of her dress torn off at the hem. Following her was Tobias Harding, looking even worse for wear. He was clutching his left arm to his chest, his sleeve torn, exposing a deep red bullet wound. There was a limp in his step as he cringed in pain. He looked ghastly, pale, and weak.

  “What is this?” raged the Earl, “who had the audacity to tie up my beloved like a common prisoner?” His hands tightened on his teacup. Samuel cowered, having had enough experience of the Earl and everyday objects that could be used as projectiles. “You,” exclaimed the Earl, pointing his finger accusingly at Lance, “did you do this?”

  “No, My Lord, no,” stammered Lance. “It must have been Asher. Asher did it, My Lord, believe me.”

  “I shall kill him myself,” declared the Earl, “untie her this very instant.”

  Immediately, Samuel rushed forward, unsheathing his dagger as he went. With one swipe of his knife, the ropes binding Abigail fell away. She immediately sighed in relief, massaging her wrists with her hands, and then looked up suspiciously at the Earl.

  “And him, My Lord?” inquired Samuel, pointing his dagger towards the hunched over figure that was Tobias.

  “Leave him be. Any servant of that Duke’s is an enemy to me,’ he said harshly, sneering at Tobias. He then turned to Abigail, “My dear Abigail, please have a seat. My humblest apologies to you for the way you were treated by this band of ill-mannered swine. Had I not been bound to this stick to help me to walk, I swear I would’ve come to fetch you myself.”

  Abigail looked at the Earl with resentment in her eyes, “Forgive me, My Lord,” she said in a dignified tone, “I do not feel comfortable in accepting the hospitality of a man who would resort to falsehood to manipulate me and my emotions. Am I not more than a plaything to you? That you think I can be toyed around with at will?”

  “You dare speak to the Earl like that you foul–” Samuel began in outrage, but the Earl held up a hand to silence him.

  “Back Samuel, let the girl speak.” He gave Abigail a weak smile. “My dear, whatever I did was for but one reason. I love you, Abigail. My love for you knows no bounds. I only want what’s best for you, my dear. And that rake of a Duke, Edmund? He will never cherish you as I do. Never.”

  Tobias grunted in protest as Abigail fell silent for a moment, looking down at the floor between her feet. She raised her head after a few seconds of silence, her eyes brimming with tears, “My Duke loves me enough never to fall as low as to manipulate my emotions with falsehood for his own personal gain. So if you truly love me, My Lord, you will set me and this good man,” she pointed to Tobias kneeling behind her, “free so we can return to where we belong. Northumberland.”

  The Earl shook with anger. “That is enough out of you! You do not know what you are saying. Your brain has been addled. You shall stay here until–”

  He was cut short by the door of the parlour bursting open. “What’s this?” the Earl asked of the adolescent herald that stood at the door. “Have you no manners, boy? How dare you burst in on my private chambers like this?”

  The boy turned paler than he already was. Panting, he said, “Forgive me, My Lord Earl. I carry grave news.”

  “What is it, boy?”

  “The Duke Edmund of Northumberland, My Lord,” panted the boy, “he is at the gates, demanding entry in the name of the Crown and the good Prince Regent.”

  The Earl screamed in rage. “How dare he come knocking at my doors? Samuel, hand me my stick.”

  The Earl shook with rage as Abigail smiled to herself. The Duke had come for her.

  Chapter 19

  Duke Edmund paced outside the gates of Aldrich, gauging the height of the walls. They were about twenty meters high, according to his observations; they could be scaled within minutes if the need presented itself. He raised a hand, and James immediately trotted over.

  “Yes, My Lord Duke,” he asked.

  “Give call to the gatekeeper, James. I haven’t all day,” he said.

  “Yes, My Lord,” said James. He urged his horse into a walk towards the gates and when close enough called out in a loud and clear voice, “Hail!”

  After a few minutes of silence, a gruff voice replied, “Who goes there?”

  “In the name of the good King Regent, Prince George, the third of his name, the Duke Edmund Egerton Arundell bids you to open your gates so we may deliver the King’s justice on the Earl of this estate, Horace Blakemore,” declared James in a dignified voice.

  “I be knowing no authority but that of the Lord Earl’s,” replied the voice. “Who be you, taking the name of the crown in vain?”

  “In vain, you say?” roared the Duke, “I am the Duke of Northumberland, you dim-witted fool. Your Earl’s titles will do you no good in the eyes of the Crown’s justice. They won’t protect you. Open the gates this instant.”

  “On whose authority?” inquired the man hesitantly.

  “On the King Regent’s,” said the Duke.

  After a long pause, the man replied, “Very well, My Lord. Forgive my insolence.”

  The Duke waited patiently as the large doors creaked open. When they were wide enough, he trotted into the courtyard, followed closely by his party of five. As he walked his horse towards the wooden doors leading into the castle, they were suddenly banged open by Lance who had a pistol ready in his hand. The Duke immediately jumped off his horse and ducked behind it as the metal pellet of the gun soared above him and lodged itself in a tree behind him. His horse whinnied and scrambled off, startled.

  “How dare ye open fire at the Duke,” roared James, “a servant of the Crown?”

  “He be no Duke in me eyes,” screamed Lance as he proceeded to reload his weapon. He had just pushed in the pellet when James’ bullet hit him, knocking him off his feet. The Duke’s men dismounted, pulling out their weapons.

  “My Lord, it would be wise to load your own gun,” muttered James to the Duke, “these men shoot to kill.”

  “Aye, James. I’ll do that,” replied the Duke, tugging the strings of his gunpowder pouch, “Move with care, gentlemen. And be vigilant as not to shoot unprecedented.”

  “Of course, My Lord,” said James and cautiously moved towards the doors, signalling for the other men to follow.

  He paused at Lance’s barely stirring body and kicked aside his weapon, away from reach. He then proceeded into the entrance hall with the Duke following close behind. Moving towards the staircase, the men ran into a chambermaid, cowering under a table.

  “Ho,” said James, “where be the Earl of the castle, girl?”

  The girl looked up at the men, shaking. “I be just a chambermaid, me Lord. Spare this insignificant soul,” she cried.

  “Ye has nothing to fear from us, lassy,” said the Duke, not unkindly, “we are men of the Crown’s law. Our quarrel is with the Earl. Where is he?”

  “Up-upstairs, good sir,” stammered the maid, “he be in his parlour.”

  The Duke nodded at the girl, an
d the party proceeded up the staircase. As they crossed the hall, a man jumped out from behind a posh curtain, brandishing a weapon. All six men pointed their guns at him. He hesitated and then dropped his gun hastily.

  “I surrender!” he exclaimed as he fell to his knees, “I surrender!”